#thinking about annie and finnick sitting together on the floor

[was70th]

good morning! in d4 wedding tradition, it’s the couple themselves who weaves the net used in their ceremony…. they’re literally tying the knot. while it is traditionally done with rope, in thirteen they wouldn’t spare that particular resource, and annie and finnick actually enjoyed the careful, delicate work that came with weaving grass.

[ovtsakaramel]

Rainstorm

Annie hates tea. She normally hates warm drinks because they make her get lost in the fog in her own mind even more. Except coffee, the bitterness making her focus on the taste instead of the temperature. But since she met Finnick Odair she made her first cup of tea by her choice. She took it in her hands, the the warmth of the mug burning the skin of her hands. Like everytime she touches his tan skin. Bringing it to her lips feels like the soft kisses they share everytime they see each other. She takes a sip. The hot liquid leaves fire in her mouth and burns her tongue. The exact feeling when Finnicks tongue goes through her lips and gets her dizzy from the warmth. His kisses leave her numb the way the tea leaves the burnt tongue. She doesn't care. As long as she has him in her, she would take all the numbness and pain in the world. She could take just a little more, she was already crying herself to sleep every night, no matter if she was in his arms or wrapped in the cold air. She goes on the porch, the rain falling down and freezing the air. The cup feels even hotter. She sits on a chair and doesn't care that her posture is the one of a shrimp. She could see the sea from here, bringing enough comfort that she can put the mug on the little table. She lights a cigarette and takes a smoke. Finnick would kill her if he saw her, she promised him she'd stop. But she couldn't when he was away. The only thing that was even close to his touch was the cup and the tea inside it. She took a sip, her arm trembling because it was too heavy to carry with one hand. She fears she'd drop it and that it will shatter in pieces, just like her after the games. The warm liquid of everything positive spilling and soaking into the wooden porch floor. The cold air hit her. She loved everytime it rained not only because the sky was prettier, also because the rain and could air on her skin reminded her of the water. How it saved her in the games, how it saves her now. She looks into the sea and it reminds her of his eyes, exactly the same color. They're green with light blue on top and navy ends, like the sun hitting the ocean and how it looks darker on the horizont. They also have a little yellow that makes them look even ggreener She has always compared him to an angel, so it wasn't a surprise that her favorite parts of his body had halos on them. And the white makes them look like they have waves in them, like seafoam. She doesn't even remember if she's getting lost in his eyes and he's next to her, warming her up, or if she's drowning in the sea and the only piece of warmth is the cup of tea. It's not like she cares. The feeling is too good. For once, she doesn't think.

Finnick Odair has never been a fan of coffee, he didn't like the taste, no matter how much cream and sugar he put in it. But today he couldn't take it anymore. Being without Annie. He missed her face, he missed her voice, he missed her touch, he missed her. He went to the kitchen at his brothers house and got a packet of coffee. He threw it on the countertop and started boiling water. All he could think about is how desperate he was to feel her, to be with her again. They were never close enough, if they could they would melt and mesh with each other into one liquid and still not be close enough. When the water was done he turned off the stove and got a turquoise mug. The same color as her eyes. He opened the coffee packet with his teeth and some of it sprayed out onto the countertop and his face and sweater. He poured the rest into the mug and then the boiling water. He started smelling the scent of coffee and his mind immediately went to Annie and her permanent coffee scent. Whenever he got close to her she smelled like coffee, when they slept together her sweaty skin smelled like coffee, when she had just gotten out of the shower somehow she still smelled like funking coffee. Maybe that's why he didn't need it normally, there was enough caffeine in her natural smell. He got a little spoon and started mixing to coffee with the water. The liquid got exactly the color of Annies light brown skin and he couldn't wait till it cools a little till he tried it. His tongue set on fire. It tasted sweeter than usual. The moment the tastr hit him harder he felt weakened and sat down on the porch. It was raining, Annie would love it. He knows that every morning at 5 am, after writing all night, Annie went to the porch to smoke and drink coffee. Normally she brought him with her because the sound of the waves alone was too quiet to handle. But when it rained she could spend hours with the cup between her hands, not wearing any jacket because she loved the feel of the cold air against her skin. He never knew why, but now he felt the comfort of the cold air on him and how it felt like the cool sea and her icy hands. The bittersweet taste of the coffee made him remember Annies, the only difference that her lips were always cold, unlike the mug. But that's what the rain was for. He never knew that he would drink coffee, and especially not a whole mug in seconds. He could still feel the taste of it on his tongue, just how he couldn't take away Annies after they kissed. But it burned, which was something that Annie didn't give but take away. She did leave something but it was never. She was never painful, not like the Capitol who left only burnt all over his skin that he wished he could just peel it off and jump into the salt water to feel pain different than the one he's used to get from them. He looks into that same sea and could only see Annie's eyes. The sea matched her eyes only when it was dark and gloomy, but it brought him a type of comfort no one would get from darkness. The sea matched her eyes only when it was tempestuous, because in her eyes it was never, ever calm. The strikes of light blue that she had inside them were like the seafoam from the waves crashing into everything they saw, even each other. He wishes he could drown in them, the way he can in Annie's eyes. But it wasn't deep enough for him to drown. Her eyes were the only thing with that depth, depth that he couldn't even find her mind that he knew he'd never fully understand. The taste from the coffee started dehydrating him. For the first time he didn't wish for water, even think his mouth was dry and hot. He has already been through so much pain, why won't he take some thirstyness for the essence of his lover?

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned for Better Chapter 19: Always Remember We're Burned for Better

Here we are. The TITULAR chapter. Only two more chapters follow this, one being the epilogue. We are at the end of the war. We have made it. We are just about at the end of this fic. It is absolutely wild we have made it this far together. I finally picked a title for the sequel, so thats cool. This is the longest chapter by far. It is the most important. They have been burned, and now it is time to find that it is for the better.

I have a LOT of emotions in writing this. I never imagined how it would feel to nearly finish the biggest fic i've ever done. And I'm feeling a LOT. Idk. I'm kind of sad about it?

title from The Great War. Also the titular chapter of the fic. Wild.

AO3

Masterpost.

As always, thank you to my friends. For your endless support and listening to me ramble. I literally cannot thank @ohhowwehavefallen enough. @kentwells who has essentially helped me restructure some things in the sequel already that i'm honestly weirdly excited for. @mollywog who was my first ever commenter who continues to read a story about a ship that she isn't even a stan for. @crookedlyniceperson my dear meme maker. @clarascrabarmy my nightshift angel who talked me off a ledge last week. And so so so many more. I am just.. yeah. Feeling a lot about this fic. It's been a crazy crazy ride.

And as we approach the end I just need to say thank you all.

Note: I do not own any of the Mockingjay content in italics, that all belongs to Suzanne Collins.

I'm like. On the verge of tears as I post this.

The banging at the door is incessant and alarming, more frantic than was usual in such a militant district. Compared to the festivities of the night before, with the wedding of Finnick and Annie, such a frantic rapping at the door pulls them from their comfortable position in each other's arms. 

Cato doesn’t really move, shifting his face to bury it in Clove’s neck, pulling her body flush against his even more so than it already was. “Mmm, think they’ll go away if we ignore it?” He murmurs, voice muffled in the mess of hair between his lips and her skin. “Think we’re in trouble for missing breakfast?”

“Seems a bit more urgent than missed scrambled eggs.” Clove mumbles in response, pulling the thin cotton sheet higher up over their shoulders, no intention to greet the stale morning air beyond the warmth of their minimally comfortable bed. The two twin beds pushed together was a FAR cry from the comfort of their home, but they both knew they likely would not be returning to such luxuries for quite some time. She’s about to continue ignoring the banging, content to rest in his arms until something of worth drags them out, when the knocking both deepens in intensity and increases in speed. “For fucks sake,”

The banging does not relent, and Clove is reluctant unbury her face and push herself out from under the weight of Cato’s arm, which falls on the bed behind her hips with a dramatic thump. Her feet hit the floor as she rocks to a sitting position, and the cool underground air prickles the hair of her skin. She ignores the dull ache the cold introduces to her skeleton, the way her shoulders throb just deep to the planes of her skin.  For a moment, she thinks about how this is going to feel in the winter in the mountains of District Two, before she remembers she will likely never step foot back in her District. 

The violent outbreak in District Two eventually did turn towards the side of the rebellion, but not before sides were further divided, largely because of Cato and Clove themselves. Many of the loyalists did hear them, saw them for the children who were born, raised, and sacrificed to the games in their childhood, and took their pleas of reality. There was still a small camp, though, who dove further into their cause, citing Cato and Clove both as traitors to not only their home but their country.  While it had ultimately turned out against the Capitol, the beliefs would remain. IF there was a District Two to return to, would they even be welcome?

 The banging continues to hasten, and Clove actually sighs out loud as she searches for something, namely, Cato’s shirt, from the floor before slipping it over her head and shuffling closer to the door. 

The exact second that she turns the door handle, the heavy metal door comes flying open as if it were made of cardboard and not steel, and Clove is pushed back into the room by the flurry of blonde that comes rushing in.

“They’re gone. Everyone is gone. Katniss, and Finnick, and their whole film crew and everyone is gone and It’s just us and Annie and Johanna and–” comes so fast that the words are nearly imperceivable by their intended audience. 

“Good Morning to you, too, Glimmer.” Cato rolls to his back, now understanding that no, he would not be going back to sleep anytime soon. “Can you breathe between your words so we can understand what you’re saying?”

“You’re pleasant in the morning,” Another unexpected voice follows, as Marvel follows in the room behind Glimmer, rubbing his eyes as his socks shuffle along the cement flooring of the rooms. “I don’t remember you being all grumpy in the games.”

“You look ridiculous.” Cato snaps, before stretching his arms above his head, holding his head in his hands as they rest on the pillow behind him. As result the sheets slip lower, leaving practically his whole torso bared to the room. “Shirtless isn’t for everyone.”

“I was asleep!” He defends mildly, before stifling another yawn. “It’s like..five in the morning, give me a break.”

“Why are you waking us all up at five a.m. Glimmer?” Clove redirects, practically grabbing Glimmer by the shoulders, stabilizing the blubbering, pacing girl. She looks frantic, nearly mad even. “Glimmer! Words!”

“Everyone is gone.” Glimmer grabs Clove’s arms, digging her nails in with a panic. “They’re gone, went to the Capitol gone.”

Clove’s face must fall first, as the realization hits her far faster than it does the men. Her fingers tighten on Glimmer’s arms ,and she shakes her just a little. “This is…it? This is the end and they just…left us? They didn’t even want us to help–”

“Sure did!” Yet another voice enters the room, this time the snarky tone of Johanna sliding into the room behind the other four. “Thanks for waking the whole district Blondie- oh GOOD Morning.” She laughs the second she sees Cato in his sheet on the bed, clapping her hands together once. “We’re the leftovers, but damn, I’ll take it. Speaking of leftovers, Clove if you get sick of-”

“Johanna i’ll still fucking kill you.” Clove warns, a sharp edge in her voice that relays that no, she is not in fact even slightly joking.

“Okay hold on, why would they leave without us, we’re useful.” Marvel argues, crossing his arms across his chest, before he sits himself on the foot edge of the bed,  far from Cato on the other side. 

“How useful are you, really, Marvel?” Johanna taunts, before shutting the heavy metal door behind her, protecting the secrecy of their conversation. “I’m sure they gave Katniss a bow and Finnick a fucking trident, nothing like sending people into an active warzone with symbolic weapons. Did you all fail your readiness tests? I almost made it then they flooded the fucking streets… tried to send me back to the hospital and everything?”

“You can swim, what's that matter?” Cato pulls himself to a sitting position to join the rest of the group more properly. “You’d never have survived the quell otherwise.”

Johanna bristles but goes quiet, suddenly shifting her focus towards a rather interesting spot in the floor, when Marvel speaks for her.

“Back in the Capitol they uh..” He waves his hand around, gesturing something Cato nor Glimmer quite grasp. “With the water and the electricity, they shocked her.”

“Electrocuted.” She corrects, before raising her head to look around the room again. “Not that it matters now. I didn’t pass and clearly neither did any of you–”

“What test do you mean?” Clove cranes her head to look at Johanna, but does not move her hands from where she holds Glimmer’s arms down, noticing the way her wrists twitch to reach for the skin of her own arms. “They didn’t tell us about some test,”

“A field readiness test. To see if you were capable of handling whatever the Capitol threw out?” Johanna now sits on the makeshift king bed, a few feet away from Marvel but no closer to Cato to prevent the risk of Clove taking it as a move on him. “They must have considered all of you too big of a liability to even think about sending you out there.”

“Do they think we’re just..team Snow? After all they’ve done to us, after all we’ve said?” Glimmer shakes her head, disbelief at the lack of trust this cause has for them, after the repeated displays of loyalty they have all given time and time again. “They just think we’re not worth including?”

“I, for one, am fine with not dying in this war. We made it this far, besides, they would have sent us out there like idiots trying to fight a war with swords and knives. A suicide mission, really, if you think about it.” Cato announces, but the disdain on his face reveals to Clove that he’s a little bitter about missing his final chance at violence and bloodshed in the Capitol streets. 

“We’re all dead anyway if Snow wins.” Johanna reminds them all, leaning back in Clove’s bed, stretching her arms out around her. “May as well watch the end of the world from a bunker. Aren’t you all tired of being used as little show ponies by both sides?”

“She fucking hates us, I can’t believe she didn’t want to exterminate us. She looks at us like we’re rats plaguing her district.” Clove says, but the way her eyes flit around the room shows she’s hesitant to even elaborate. 

“Who? Katniss?” Glimmer cocks her head, narrowing her eyes like she wants to defend the symbolic girl herself. 

“No..Coin.” Clove whispers, looking between them all as if she cannot believe they do not immediately agree. “She looks at Katniss like it, too. She doesn’t like us. Any of us.”

“Maybe it looks better for us not to even be there, then to turn for the Capitol and die for them.” Cato suggests, leaning back to prop his head up in his hand while his elbow rests on the pillow once again. 

“She hates us. We might be dead no matter who wins.” Clove warns, and immediately, turns to face the rest of them. “We should get Annie, too. It’s not fair to leave her, especially if Finnick’s already gone.”

“I’ll go grab her.” Johanna volunteers, pushing herself back to stand. “What a wedding night, wonder how that feels to have your brand new husband choose war over you.”

“He might not have had a choice.” Glimmer suggests, knowing all too well how it felt to be a symbol of something against your will. 

Johanna heads towards the door, pausing to look Clove over, pausing to bring attention to her bare thighs and legs that peek out from under Cato’s shirt. “You know, you have nice legs under all that crazy, Clove.”

“Go get Annie, Jo.” Marvel sighs, once again stifling an exhausted yawn  “If we’re going to wait out a war in here, can you two at least put clothes on.”

“Awwww…don’t be jealous you aren’t getting any Marvel.” Cato taunts just as a pillow smacks him in the face. 

——

They are kept in the dark on the status of the battle of the Capitol. 

Perhaps the whole district, the whole world is, but it feels like the six of them are particularly cut off from the reality of the outside world. 

The day itself is very…odd. No other term to describe it than weird, really. There are no overhead announcements of the change of a shift, nor announcement of mealtimes beginning. Maybe they are happening and the group of them are simply unaware, but after hours of, well, nothingness…Cato makes the call that he’s starving and he will be finding something to eat. 

He's on his way back from the kitchen, leftover cake from Peeta’s creation the night before in his hands to serve as their snack, lunch, AND dinner, when he physically collides with Haymitch in the hallway.

The older victor tries to nod and go on his way, but Cato grabs him by the shoulder to stop him from running. 

“Why didn’t they tell us?”

“She didn’t tell me, either, sunshine. Katniss isn’t one to give other people a heads up.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it, Haymitch. After all we did for them, they don’t even want us there when it ends?”

Haymitch gives a hesitant glance around, all too aware that the walls listened for even the lightest whimpers. “Plutarch wanted as many victors there as possible. Coin didn’t want anyone who could be seen as a Capitol loyalist-“

“We’re loyalists? Me and Clove, who literally have no home anymore as a result of this war? Glimmer, who risked it all to expose what they did to her? Marvel? Who doesn't even know what to believe? We’re loyal to Snow?”  The thought is unbelievable to Cato, who has lost his home, his family, and everything but Clove to this war. Have they not given enough to show that they are anything but a threat to this new world. 

“It isn’t me saying it, kid.” He gives another hesitant glance around. “Remember what I'm telling you right now, okay? About how she sees you all.” 

—-

The four of them sit on the still unmade bed, the screen in the room turned on in case of any sudden update that has still yet to come. Johanna had ushered Annie out of the room not terribly long before, after the lack of update had sent her spiraling to something akin to a panic attack. Johanna insisted she just needed to be alone, and that she’d bring her back once she was more stable. 

Clove’s head is on Cato’s thigh as he feeds her bites of the cake, her feet up against Glimmer’s legs where she is curled up under the blankets, head resting on Clove’s pillow. Marvel sits at the foot of the bed, distracted from all but the turquoise buttercream on the cake before him. 

“Shame he’s from twelve, he could’ve made a killing in a bakery in One.” Marvel comments, swiping the left over icing off the plate with his finger, before shoving it in his mouth. “That kid can bake.”

“I’m not sure there's really going to be district divisions left after all this. You can go get some loverboy cupcakes anytime you want.” Clove teases, before accepting another fork full of cake. “If there's even a Peeta left after today.”

“Why would they send him? Isn’t he literally programmed to kill Katniss? Isn't that a liability?” Marvel questions, before full on just digging directly into the entire tier of cake Cato had brought back with him. 

Something clicks for Cato, the words of Haymitch Abernathy combined with months of watching and absorbing the way things go down here. Everything is always intentional. “Maybe that's the point.” 

“You think the point is to kill Katniss?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, but props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at them. “Isn’t her whole point like…to represent the cause?”

“..but maybe she’s more symbolic dead?” Glimmer suggests, following along with what Cato is implying, tucking her blanket over her shoulders before snuggling deeper into the blanket. “...do you think we’re all more symbolic dead?”

“Honestly, I don’t know-” Cato is cut off when the TV actually flashes on for the first time all day, proudly displaying the Capitol seal before one Caesar Flickerman appears in a news anchor-esk desk. 

“For fucks sake, how is Caesar still alive?” Clove groans, but pushes herself to sit beside Cato as the tv calls their attention. 

“He’s the capitol’s favorite cockroach.” Marvel jokes, before he too turns around at the foot of the bed to watch whatever news Caesar brings. 

“They’re alive.” Is the first thing Glimmer whispers, tuned out to the snide remarks on alliances and loyalty from Cesar, as she tunes in directly to seeing FInnick, Katniss, and even Peeta alive. 

As Peeta grabs Katniss to throw her down, and some unidentified member of the squad pulls him off, a silence falls across them all. An uncomfortable silence, one that settles in the air and makes any word feel simply futile.  

“Do you remember the night before the quell?” Marvel finally says, clearing his throat as he does so. There's something in his voice, something between realization and fear, and Glimmer is the first to recognize it. 

“On the rooftop, yeah, why?” She follows up, and nearly reaches forward to grab his shoulder but stops herself, still, even in this end of the world moment, afraid of what he would think. 

“Doesn’t this feel a lot like it?”

—

Two entire days pass without another update. Two turns to Three. Three turns to Four into Five. 

It is five days later when they get their next news on the active battle in the Capitol. Ironically, they are in exactly the same space. Clove leaning with her legs and feet in Cato’s lap, who is sitting up against the wall that serves as the head board on their bed. Her head is across the bed, in Glimmer’s hands where the girl threads intricate braids through the length of her hair giving her something productive to do with her hands. The biggest change is that she now also leans on Marvel, who once again sits cross legged at the foot of the bed. 

“What do you think will happen next?” Glimmer brings up, raking her fingers through the soft waves at the end of Clove’s ever growing hair. “Like..what's next for us?”

“I think the answer is supposed to be live happily ever after, if you ask Annie.” Clove snorts, but stretches her legs against Cato’s torso to get him to pick up her feet. “I honestly haven’t thought about it.”

“You haven’t thought about what happens after this ends?” Marvel questions, leaning back against the metal bar of the bottom of the bed. 

“Why should I? Who knows what's left out there for us? District Two is literally ashes. I’m an actual orphan now, Cato’s probably also a war orphan. We literally probably don’t even have a home left for us.” Clove looks over at Cato, who is just nodding his head in disagreement. “Are we going to have to be drifters?”

“You could always just come stay with us for a while, if we even have standing homes. Otherwise we can all go hide in the mountains of District Two, living out of tents… it’ll be like we’re in the Hunger Games forever.”  Marvel suggests, but his face twists up as soon as the words are out. “Scratch that. Not like the Hunger Games. I don’t want to think about those..honestly? Ever again. But seriously. We may all be living out of tents so–”

“I am not living out of a tent.” Glimmer scoffs, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “After all this, I deserve at least running water. And a maid. And a chef.”

“You don’t need a chef, Clove’s right there and homeless.” Marvel teases, but the concept does bring another pending issue to the front of his mind. “....do you think we’re going to have to get like…jobs?”

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” Cato chimes in, taking Clove’s foot into his hand and digging his thumb into the center of arch of her left foot and for a moment they are seventeen on the train to her games for the first time again. “We won the Hunger Games. Monthly stipends for the rest of our lives, remember? Have we not done enough?”

“They may not care about all that, if there's no games, does it even matter if we won them?” Clove questions, before she tugs her foot back out of his hand as he pressed his finger in, nearly kicking him in the process. “You asshole.”

“I am not getting a job. When I was little my mom used to say I could either marry a victor or be one. And I am one. Working retail in One was just never even on the table for me!” Glimmer sounds nearly scandalized at the suggestion, sitting a little straighter and leaning against her once-boyfriend. “Katniss should add that to her list of concessions. We keep our income.”

“It’s not like there’s going to even be that many victors left.” Cato points out, smirking as he goes for Clove’s other foot, holding her ankle firmly in his hand so she cannot pull away this time. “It’s the least they could do for us.”

They had destroyed their homes. Stripped them of their livelihood as victors. Slaughtered their families and their friends. A monthly stipend was the literal least that the new government could do. 

It’s not like any of them really had employable skills, anyway. 

The television crackles on against any of their will, and the Capitol insignia once again covers the entirety of the room in a bright, blinding light. The familiar anthem of the Capitol plays, and Clove is the first to scoff. 

“I wish Katniss didn’t have dibs, I’d love to get my hands on Snow for this-” Clove starts, but her blood runs cold as soon as she sees what is being displayed behind him. 

It is an image they are all too familiar with. As the anthem plays the holographic pictures of fallen tributes scroll on the screen. This time, though, the tributes are people they know all too well. 

Finnick Odair. Katniss Everdeen. Peeta Mellark. 

“No..no. no. no.” Glimmer shakes her head, disbelief quickly turning to agony as her own breathing speeds up and she falls quickly over the edge of her own emotional distress. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is as chilling as the screams of Annie Cresta-Odair that echo through the depths of District Thirteen. 

“They can’t be dead, there's no way they’re all just..gone.” Clove tries, but the evidence is in front of her. Of course there is a way. They are in an active battle ground with literal bows and knives and tridents. They were never intended to come out as victors. 

Glimmer is beside herself, resolved to hyperventilating, body shaking sobs as the broadcast transitions to Snow. 

“We should go to Annie..” Marvel suggests, but as Glimmer physically collapses against him he can’t find it in him to do anything but bring a hand up to her shoulders, as he had done all those years ago during Clove’s games. Johanna is probably with her, if the footsteps running through the hall and the two rapid door slams indicate. 

Snow appears on their screen, and gives some speech about Katniss being a misguided girl.

“...I think we need to have another conversation.” Cato warns, leaning forward to grab Clove and pull her into his lap. “What do we do if Snow wins this?”

“I’m not living in a world with him in control, I can’t I can’t I can’t.” Glimmer cries, further digging herself into her ex-boyfriend's shirt, letting (or rather pleading) him wrap a single arm around her to give her any semblance of comfort. “I can’t go through it again.”

“I’m in no fucking hurry to get back in his hands, I won’t. He took everything from me. He stole who I am. I’m not living in his world.” Clove agreed, noticing the way she herself was also breathing rather heavy as a result of the news. Not to say she was panicking but..she also wasn’t far off. Her heart pounded, raced really, in her chest. After everything..she couldn’t survive in a world with Snow. 

The screen is disrupted when Coin takes over, and gives an empassioned speech about Katniss as well. Her false emotion is obvious to them, who are all too accustomed to her fake niceties. 

“She caused this! She’s the one who sent her in there with Peeta and Finnick and it’s her fault.” Glimmer blames, an arm at her waist the only thing that keeps her from lunging at the television in her rage. Coin is justly the target of her ire, as the loss of Finnick is like feeling the loss of a limb. They were the ones who went through it all together, and she is likely the one of the only ones who remain who have experienced the sexual abuse at the hands of elite capitolites. 

“Lesser of two evils, Glimmer, lesser of two evils.” Marvel tries, but it is no use as Glimmer loses it yet again. 

“Cato’s right.” Clove says, leaning back in his arms. “We need a plan if Snow wins, we can’t get back in their control.”

“What do you suggest, Clove? We hold a Hunger Games down here of the surviving victors? Just take each other out?” Marvel questions, not even slightly considering it. It’s preposterous to him, that they’d just be able to annihilate each other as if they had not gone through an entire war together now. 

“I don’t know if we could do it.” Cato admits, shaking his head just a little as he pulls Clove properly onto his lap. “After all this..yeah we can take ourselves out but could we really kill Annie? Or even you , Glimmer, I'm not sure I'd be able to.”

“I couldn’t kill you.” Clove fully admits, tucking her head against Cato’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist for him by grasping his hands. “I spent my whole life trained to kill you.. And I couldn’t do it. Not now. I couldn’t kill you, Marvel, even though you irritated the hell out of me when I met you. We survived the fucking capitol together. Glimmer… you are the closest thing to a friend I have ever had. I guess that makes you my best friend, doesn’t it? You have taken care of me for months down here. I can’t kill you. And God, Cato, you’re the love of my life. After all this shit, there's no chance in the world I’d be able to kill you so easily anymore. I don’t know what comes next if Snow wins…but come on. We can’t throw it all in so easily. We’re probably the only Career Victors left. We can’t give it up so easily.”

—

The war ends three days later. Formally, at least. 

 The television refuses to shut off, with mandatory viewing of evacuations and all cameras focused on the president's mansion an endless background noise.

Clove is laying on top of Cato, face tucked into his neck as he runs his hands over the small of her back absently. There has been a tension in the air ever since the conversation of the end of the world under Snow, and they had spent the majority of what could be their last days on earth alone with each other. 

Go out with a bang, right?

Go out with a bang, quite literally, when the mandatory viewing of evacuations turns into a mass civilian bombing by the Capitol. Or more specifically a mass bombing of the capitol children. 

“It’s like their own Hunger Games. Just..mass murder of kids.” Clove remarks from her place on his chest, tucking her chin against his sternum so she can look up at him. “Feels funny to see the games that way.”

A second bomb wipes out the camera footage as the bomb wipes out thousands more. 

Neither think much of it. They had been broadcasting the mass deaths of peacekeepers and rebels alike for days. What is one more bombing, what are thousands more added to the death count. 

It is not until an hour or so later, long after the broadcast has cut out, that a banging resumes on their door as it had days prior. 

This person, though, does not wait for the door to be opened, and instead keys in a code from the outside that flings it open. 

On the other side of the door is Haymitch Abernathy, a beanie on his head and a smile on his face for the first time maybe ever. 

“It’s over!” He announced from the door frame, hand still grasping the handle. “It’s over.”

Clove raises her head first, and Cato’s face whips around to face the door. It is Cato’s turn to break into the ghost of a smile as he waits to confirm what Haymitch is saying. There’s no way the man had broken in that enthused if Snow had won, right.

“We won?” Cato calls out, grasping Clove’s hip under the blanket so intensely that it was sure to leave bruises behind. 

“We won.” Haymitch narrows his eyes at the two of them, gesturing to the sheets that covered them. “If you two will disconnect from one another and get dressed, they’re going to fly us all out for the big execution of Snow.”

“...we’re invited?” Clove snarks, raising a dark eyebrow, but unable to stop the smile that is threatening to creep across her face. “What’s the occasion?”

“The war is over, kid. Everyone’s going.” Haymitch winks at them, and for the first time maybe ever, Clove recognizes him as another victor like herself. And maybe, just maybe, he sees them for that too. 

The door shuts on them both as Haymitch hits Glimmer’s room next, as evidenced by the shriek they can hear through the wall at the announcement. 

The reaction of Glimmer, or Marvel, or Annie, Or Johanna doesn't matter, not right now. 

Not when Cato grabs Clove’s face in his hands, and pulls her up so that they are only inches apart, his thumbs brushing across the freckles that dance over her cheeks like constellations. 

It is better than winning any fight, better than the night before any Hunger Games. 

“It’s over.” Clove whispers, her own hands coming up to rest along his jaw, her thumb stroking over his cheek. “We won.”

“It’s over.” Cato agrees, the smile fully breaking out on his face now. They won. And if they have nothing else in the world..they have each other. 

He pulls her face down to crash their lips together, and if he can taste the saltiness of tears he is kind enough not to mention it. 

Seconds, Minutes, who knows how long passes before Clove forces herself to pull back just a little, just enough to catch her breath. Their noses still brush, foreheads still together, when she finally, finally lets out a sigh. 

“We survived a war, Cato.”

“We always survive, babe. We always do.”

—

 The flight to the Capitol is unlike any train ride or victory tour ever felt. It’s a moment of victory all its own, yes. 

And yet, there is the feeling of unfinished business in the air. A war that is over but not quite. 

It is also the longest a journey to the Capitol has ever taken, a far cry from the quick train rides from Two. 

“Everything is going to change.” Clove warns Cato, sitting in their own little corner of the hovercraft. 

“Maybe it’s for the better.” Cato suggests, lacing his fingers with hers as he crosses his ankles out in front of him. It was strangely reminiscent, sitting side by side like this, of being kids on their lunch break at training. Their entire lives have centered around anchoring the other, really.  He nods in the direction diagonal from them, where caddy-cornered to them sit Marvel and Glimmer, in a position not at all unlike their own. They watch as Glimmer rests her head on Marvel’s shoulder and how he smiles down at her like she’s the source of all the light in the room.  “Maybe it’s for the better.” 

—

The first person they see upon landing is Effie Trinket who is back in her head to toe over the top regalia. Well. Some things change and some things do not. 

“Welcome, Welcome!” She greets, a megawatt smile plastered across her pale painted skin. Even in her Captiol attire she is still not quite as outlandish as she had once been. There is a wig and heavy makeup, yes, but it is not at the level that an escort would have once been. 

She had likely been brought out earlier, with Coin and Plutarch and other military stars. Still. It was nice to see a familiar face, with all the loss they were about to face. 

“If you will all follow me, we have thrown together a little prep team of sorts! To get you all presentable for the execution. It’s a big day!” Effie leads them into the president's mansion, and Clove straightens as she is reminded of all the torment she faced in these very rooms. Cato notices– of course he does, they are truly two halves of the same soul– and instinctively wraps his hands around her just a little tighter.

“The other surviving victors are slowly coming in, there's not many left but!” Effie starts and it is the immediate scream of Annie Cresta that draws all their attention.

“Finnick!” 

“Annie!”

Clove and Cato turn around just in time to see the two of them collide, when Annie wraps all her limbs around his shoulders and hips, as he holds her as if she weighs nothing. 

“I thought he was dead.” Clove whispers, disbelief and even joy laced in her tone as she addresses the district twelve escort. “And Katniss and Peeta–”

“That's what they had us all thinking! But no! Katniss and Peeta, they’re alive as well. Katniss’s poor little sister, though, it’s truly tragic.” Effie puts a hand over her heart to show sympathy, but continues to lead them down the hall where various groups are being reunited. 

“Prim is dead?” Cato pauses, and quite literally stops walking in his tracks. “How was she even involved in the war to begin, she's a kid–”

“The bombing. At the end. She was there as a medic.” Effie explains, though the tone in her voice indicates that something is, once again, being left unsaid. Something didn’t fit. 

Cato and Clove share a look, one that speaks their agreement, that something is off and they need to discuss what exactly it is. 

They pass yet another door and a flurry of blonde and sparkle catches Clove off guard. Her eyes go wide, and she nearly says her name, before a manicured finger comes to shush her. 

“It’s a surprise.” Mouths Cashmere, where she stands side by side with her brother Gloss just beyond the door. Glimmer had clearly not seen them yet, but the shining smiles on their twin faces revealed to Clove they were all too excited to be reunited with their baby sister.

Clove felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, at the realization that there is no one waiting to be reunited with her. 

Cato must feel it too, as he realizes that he likely lost his sister just like Katniss. He did not have a little sister any more to excitedly await the reunion of. 

“Perfect! The District Two Room!” Effie announces, and leaves them at the door. “You two will be prepped soon. Enjoy the meantime!”

Effie cracks the door for them, and gives them each a knowing smile before she heads off in the general direction of what they can only assume is District Twelve preparations for Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. 

Cato takes the lead on pushing the door open with his fingers, and god is he glad he did when he feels Clove practically sink like jello in his arms beside him. He feels her before he hears her little gasp, and Cato is looking at her, missing exactly what stands beyond the door frame that is bringing his girl down. Clove, though, couldn't miss it if she tried. 

“Well you two have looked better.” The cocky voice comes from just beyond the door frame, and Cato feels Clove’s hand slip from his just as he finally looks up to see who waits for them. 

Brutus and Enobaria. 

Their lifelong mentors. 

“Enobaria.” Clove whispers, before she is moving as fast as her legs can carry her to cross the couple of steps between them. Immediately, she throws her arms around the woman’s shoulders, clinging to her as she did seventeen years ago when she was the only person in the world to find her worth comforting. And like she had seventeen years prior, Enobaria pulls her close, her hair finding the back of her head as it had so so many times in her childhood. 

She is not just her mentor, no. This is the woman who raised her. This is who made her into a victor. It only took a war to see that.

“You’re alive.” Clove cries against her, as she buries her face against her shoulder. “You weren’t in Two, I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, we were there.” Enobaria promises, pulling Clove’s head back so that she can wipe at the tears under her eyes. 

“You should have seen her, the day that interview with Peeta aired. I heard you in the background, and in no more than thirty seconds she was in my living room demanding we get involved.” Brutus admits, holding out his arms and scooping up the tiny girl, for the first time in her entire life showing Clove any semblance of appreciation and affection. “You had half a district coming together in your defense, kid. All led by Enobaria.” 

He sets her back down, and no sooner do her feet hit the ground before Enobaria is back to hugging her. 

“I am so so so proud of you. Both of you.” Enobaria promises, running her hand over the crown of Clove’s hair, pushing all the curled fly aways back from her eyes. 

“I hate to say it and pad your already unmanageable ego, Cato, but I am too.” Brutus admits, running a hand over Cato’s head to ruffle his hair playfully. “I can’t believe you two joined a fucking war against the capitol.”

“We can’t either.” Cato admitted, brushing his fingers through his hair to settle the now fluffed blonde atop his head. “We didn’t really have a choice.”

“It was for the best, though.” Clove points out, practically hanging her arms around Enobaria’s shoulders as if she were still the little girl all those years ago. She can see the way Cato’s jaw is tightened, the way he is holding back a comment or remark of some sort. 

“Do you know anything about Cato’s family?” Clove asks for him, eyes flitting between Brutus and Enobaria for any trace of an answer. “His sister..”

“We don’t.” Brutus admits with a disgraced shake of his head. “We were so deep on the other side of the district.. We don’t know much about anyone. But we do know that we’ve never heard them in the counts of the dead.”

Cato just gives a single nod of his head, looking to the ground so as to not show disappointment. This was something. They had someone left alive. 

Clove lets go of Enobaria, immediately going to lace her hand with Cato’s, wrapping her other arm around his back before resting against him. It was always a comfort to him, just to touch her. 

“I’m sorry, Cato.” Enobaria frowns, reaching out to gently touch his upper arm in comfort. “Victor’s Village is still standing. That's about it. But it's still there, and I think it’ll be livable within a few months. At least I hope. I’m going to One until it’s finished.” She gestures to Brutus with a nod of her head. “Are you coming?” 

“I’ll go wherever I can get a Clove Kentwell breakfast. You know. The pancakes. With the chocolate chips.” 

They unpack the rest of the realities of District Two while the prep team comes and dresses Cato and Clove. 

Clove and Enobaria are dressed nearly identical, all black trench coats and slicked back hair. The difference relies in the bubbles down the length of Clove’s ever growing dark hair, versus the sleek straightened length of Enobaria’s. 

Cato leaves Clove’s side only for the sake of being whisked off to get dressed himself, and by God Clove just about undoes all the hard work of the stylists the minute she sees him in that all black ensemble. The black button down is unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“You know, for all I hate this whole capitol thing, they always did make you look good.” Clove grins, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his hips. 

“I did not miss seeing this.” Enobaria mumbles, tossing Cato’s black wool coat on top of Clove despite the appalled yelps from the stylists over Clove’s hair. “Can’t you two save this for literally any other time.” 

Cato smirks, wrapping his arms around Clove’s hips before turning her in his arms so they both faced their mentors. “Oh you are going to fucking hate the bitch in charge of this new country, Baria.”

—

Cato is not wrong. 

While they are all led into a conference style room, the looks of thinly veiled disdain are not hidden on Coin’s face.  

She has since cut her hair, but that is about the only new thing about a leader in what was once Snow’s conference space. Different sides of the same coin, and all that.

This is all that remains of a pool of what was fifty nine victors prior to the quell. Fourteen of them. 

Glimmer waves at them excitedly from where she is nestled between her siblings, and Finnick shoots them a million dollar smile from where he holds Annie’s hand atop the table. 

Katniss looks cold behind her eyes, but nobody can say they are surprised. Katniss Everdeen went to the games and led a war for the safety of her baby sister, just to come out on the other side without her. Primrose Everdeen would never see the safety of the new world her sister had created just for her. 

“We’re sorry for your loss, Katniss.” Annie offers in a soft voice, rubbing her hand atop Finnick’s hand. “Both of them.”

“Thank you.” Katniss said politely, but her gaze is trained on Alma Coin. 

“Both of them..?” Cato whispers to Finnick, who sits at his right.

“Prim and Gale. He got dragged off right before the second bomb. He was shot right before it ended.” 

Cato nor Clove offer condolences for that loss. 

“I have invited you all here for several reasons…but first i’d like to announce myself as the interim president of panem.” Coin starts, calling the meeting to a start without bothering to announce she is doing so. 

Cato is the first to shoot her a look of disbelief, followed by Clove and Haymitch.

“How long exactly is that?” Haymitch questions, echoing the confusion of every victor in the room. 

“The people will vote when the time is right. I’ve called you here for a much more important vote.” 

President Coin goes on about the execution of Snow to occur that afternoon, followed by an explanation of the trial of every peacekeeper, official, and capitol elite who was responsible for the war atrocities they had all faced. She targets Glimmer and Finnick with reminders of the abuse of the victors, and directs commentary on loss of life to Katniss. 

“An alternative plan. A majority for can approve it. Noone may abstain. In lieu of these barbaric executions we hold a symbolic Hunger Games”

“You want to hold a Hunger Games, with the Capitol Children?” Johanna Mason clarifies, a deranged giggle escaping her. 

“You’re Joking.”  comes Peeta. 

“Was this…Plurarch’s Idea?” Haymitch clarifies.

“It was mine.” 

The admission is enough for it all to fall into place for the surviving careers. This is what Haymitch had meant, when he has warned him to remember how she views them. Every capitol atrocity..how easily that could be assigned to them. 

“You may cast your vote.”

Peeta votes no, first. Citing the kind of mindset that started these uprisings as his reason. 

Johanna is next, and with a laugh she votes yes, claiming she wants to see Snow’s granddaughter in the arena. 

“Let them have a taste of it” is how Enobaria casts her yes. “After what they did to our people..Let me in the gamemakers room.”

“I agree. It’ll be the fastest game we ever have. These kids won’t be able to hold a sword.” Brutus gives as his yes. 

“No. I vote no.” Annie dissents. 

“Me too. Absolutely not. These kids are not responsible for the crimes of their parents. We have had enough bloodshed. I’ve been hurt as much as the next person by the Capitol. But we cannot keep punishing kids for the crimes of their ancestors. That's how we got to this point in the first place.” Finnick agrees with his wife, a firm and vocal no. “We need to end this. That's why we just had a war.”

“No. We need to stop seeing each other as enemies.” Beetee adds.

“We never got our chance to mentor.” Cato announces, wrapping an arm over Clove’s shoulders. “The things they did to Clove..If I could put their kids in the arena directly, I would. I’m not mentoring those ones though. I don’t want to see them win. Besides… I think we need one last game. Fuck yes.”

“What Cato said. I had my life ruined by Snow. They stole my identity. Fuck them.” Clove agrees, giving a firm nod of her head. “And what Enobaria said. Let them have a taste of how it feels to lose everything to the games. I don’t even want one of them to win. Absolutely Yes.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you all. Did we learn nothing? Did we stand up in those last games, did we fight this war for nothing?” Glimmer’s disbelief seeps into her voice as she looks frantically between her fellow victors, and hurt fills her eyes as she makes eye contact with her so-called friends. “What happened to no more children being sacrificed? I have been hurt as much as anyone by the Capitol..but I don’t want to kill their kids. How are we any different than snow if we condone and support the murder of children. That's what they are..that's what WE were! We were all kids when we won the games. We were children.. And shouldn’t we, as the adults who have survived it..want better for these kids. Shouldn’t we want better to protect our children? No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe you would support this.”

“I disagree.” Marvel admits, trying not to flinch when Glimmer recoils away from him in downright horror and disgust. “I have seen the things they did to you. They did them to me, too. I remember how hurt you have been. I remember what it’s like to be tortured in a basement, and I remember how it feels to hope you can hear your friend–” He looks to Clove, “Whimpering across the cinder block wall you share to have proof she is alive. Johanna is afraid of water. Clove lost her ability to defend herself. Annie lost her mind, and Peeta lost himself. And Glimmer, I lost you, because of what they have done to us.  So you know what? Yeah. Fuck them. I say yes.”

She is glad to be sitting between her siblings, who each take one of her hands in their own. 

“Noone else has the right to use our trauma and our abuse to justify further violence. I vote no.” Cashmere announces, making a point to shoot absolute daggers in the general direction of Marvel and the other careers. 

“You don’t get to weaponize our experiences. Only we can do that. And I stand with my sisters. I vote no.” Gloss agrees.

“It’s down to Katniss and Haymitch.” Coin announces, shifting her eyes between the two remaining revolutionaries. 

“I get to kill snow.” Katniss all but demands, and in that moment they know exactly which way her vote is going to go, and her yes will completely tip the scale in their favor. When Katniss votes “Yes. For Prim. “ it brings the vote to a solid 7 to 6. 

There is a wordless exchange between Katniss and Haymitch, and there is murder in her eyes. Whatever is said is well understood by both players. 

Haymitch holds the power to play peacekeeper or tip the scales and he does what he knows best. 

Haymitch sides with Katniss. Notably, he does not vote yes, more so that he is with the Mockingjay in whatever she brings to the table. 

“That Carries the vote. Excellent. We’ll announce the games tonight after the execution.” 

—

“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Glimmer grabs Clove by the shoulder as she passes her room, pulling her out of the hallway and into the privacy of a guest bedroom. “Was all of this for nothing, Clove?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You were raped and beaten and horrifically abused by the capitol and you don’t want a little bit of revenge?” Clove snarls, ripping her arm out of Glimmer’s grasp. “You want to lay down and be remembered for what they did to you, or do you want to be remembered for getting back at them? Think like a career, Glimmer.”

“You don’t get it, do you?! She isn’t going to stop with the Capitol kids! What happens when it’s not enough for her for it to be the kids of Capitol Elites. What about when it’s kids of ex loyalists in the districts? When It’s the kids of careers? Or even just the children of victors, Clove? What happens then?” Glimmer peaks into the hallway, to be especially sure they are alone. “Clove. You and I both know that neither of us are going to have kids. We know that. We are never having children. But you know who’s at risk under this whole plan? Cato’s little sister. Any kids of Annie and Finnick.”

“Glimmer, it’s just one last game–”

“That's what they always say, Clove. But it won’t. It won’t. And then it’ll be us again. She hates us. You said it yourself. She hates us and we are no safer under this plan than we were with Snow.”

How can Clove refute that when she knows, deep down, that it is alarmingly and painfully true. 

–

The knock on the door startles Katniss, who is catching the reflection of her Mockingjay costume for the last time. 

Clove doesn’t wait for permission to enter, and slips in through the unlocked door. She waits along the wall, hands tucked behind her back. “I’m sorry about your sister.” 

“Yeah, well, this is the least we can do for her, right?” Katniss slings her bow over her shoulder, before she turns to Clove. “This isn’t about Prim, is it?”

“We aren’t safe under her are we?” Clove whispers, fully aware that her words are probably treason and a one way ticket to her own execution. “This isn’t going to stop with one game.”

“No.” Katniss agrees, but does not vocalize which part. However, the look steely look when she locks eyes with Clove tells the other woman all she needs to know. “...do you still carry knives with you?”

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?”  Clove rolls her eyes, but stops another snarky remark from coming when she realizes there must be a reason for Katniss to ask such a thing. “..why?”

“I’d just say to have them ready. You know. In case I miss.” Katniss suggests before straightening her Mockingjay pin for the last time. 

“You don’t miss, Katniss.” Clove nearly laughs at the absurdity of it all. Katniss would never have made it this far if she were anything less than flawless with a bow. 

That being said, Clove would never have made it this far if she weren’t born to throw a knife.

“Neither do you.”

—

Katniss leads the march out to the execution, followed by a line of Victors who have been wronged in some way or the other by the Capitol. Clove is on the Far right, Cato immediately to her left with their hands interlocked. 

It is symbolic, as this whole thing is, that the remaining victors lead the march down the boulevard of the tributes, revolutionaries filling the stands on either side of their flanks.

“Bet you never thought we’d be doing this again.” Cato teases, giving her hand a light squeeze. When he turns to look at her face, hoping for any glimpse of a laugh, he catches the glint of something shining in her palm. 

No.. there's no way it’s that. 

“Bet you never thought we’d have survived a war before we turned twenty one.” Clove teases in response, rubbing her thumb over the back of his fingers. She is at the far end, and she cannot even see Glimmer, Marvel, Finnick, or Annie on the other side. Enobaria and Brutus walk in line with the two of them, and for the briefest moment, it reminds Clove of the end of a Victory Tour, when the victor is led to the President by her mentors and her team. Is this really all that different from that moment, anyway? 

It is somehow both the longest and shortest walk of Clove’s life, seeing as every other time she had been on this particular stretch had involved a horse and chariot ride. 

The end approaches as soon as it starts. Clove feels a tightening in her chest that stretches all the way across her back. It isn’t quite panic, and it isn’t fear. It is the kind of heart racing she felt in the beginning of every day of training, how she felt when the podiums rose in the hunger games. 

It’s adrenaline. 

Katniss is at the front of their pack, yes, but from where she stands on the far right end she has a clear shot at the president tied to a wooden pole.  It’s less than 20 feet, there's no possible way Katniss would just..miss?

Coin is beginning her ramble about a shot to end all wars, about the end of tyranny, but Clove is focused on Katniss. 

“Babe, what are you doing?” Cato whispers, noting the way she does not even look up to the president as she speaks, nudging her with his shoulder. 

She does not budge. 

“Mockingjay. May your aim be as true as your heart is pure.” 

Clove sees the decision the minute Katniss makes it, and suddenly she gets what she meant by miss. 

This was her gift to Clove.

Katniss’s chin and shoulders tilt up at the same moment the handle of the knife slips from around Clove’s forearm and into her palm. 

In the same moment that Katniss releases the arrow, there is a gasp of shock when it is not an arrow that pierces Snow’s heart but a knife that lodges itself right between his eyes. 

Coin falls to the ground with an arrow to her heart as Snow’s skull splits in two. 

He had taken this very thing from her, he had taken her aim and her strength, he had taken what made Clove Clove. 

Two leaders were dead, the fate of Panem now resting in the unknown hands of democracy for the first time ever. 

Peeta slaps something out of Katniss' hands, just as she is pulled away by guards. Clove lets out a laugh, throwing her head back as Cato  is the one to grab her and pulls her to the side. 

This is what all those countless hours of training with Cato had been for. To get Clove back. 

And that's the thing about Clove Kentwell. 

She never misses. 

—

Clove does not face the same consequences as Katniss in the aftermath. He was scheduled to die– as far as it is seen Clove simply carried out a mission Katniss abandoned. 

It is the victors who write a litany of letters in immediate support of Katniss Everdeen’s release. They write of tyranny and the horrors the country would have faced under Alma Coin, terrors that are not at all unlike the dictatorship they just escaped. 

All together, there are letters from Cato, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer, Johanna, Finnick, Annie, and Beetee that are brought together in their undying, complete, and total support for Katniss Everdeen and her decisions that day. Victors will always support their fellow Victors. 

“We’ll see you soon, in One?” Marvel checks the morning after the executions, leaning on the doorframe of the guest room Cato and Clove are currently packing their minimal belongings to leave. “Glimmer..hopefully she’ll move past all her issues with us all soon. You can stay with me.” 

They do agree to go to One, first. The train doesn’t even stop in Two, all things considered, and from the discussions with Enobaria it would be futile to even stop. Their home was in shambles. They need time to heal before addressing the crumbled castles of their childhood.

“Come on, we get our own train car!” Enobaria reminds them as they stand on that train platform, Her own minimal luggage in her hands. “We won’t have to listen to Cash and Gloss lecture us until we arrive in the district, isn’t that a real treat.”

Clove cannot seem to will herself to take the steps forward towards the doors of the train. The last time they  had taken them had been to this very spot, where neither of them had intended to come back. Even though they are not going home– and likely will not for many months– it was just the right side of unbelievable. 

“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” Clove looks to Cato, holding her hand out for him to take. “For the first time in our lives.. We can do anything. We can have anything. We can go anywhere in the world we want. Just..not home.”

“We’ll go home, one day.” He promises, before he bypasses her hand and instead wraps his arms around her shoulders. Cato rests his chin atop her head before kissing the crown of her hair. “We survived three Hunger Games between us. A little bit of post-war reconstruction has to be nothing, right?”

Clove snorts, leaning back in his arms as they take in the remnants of the Capitol together. “Yeah, but post war reconstruction involves us living with Glimmer and Marvel. We’ll be finding Glitter in our hair for the rest of our lives.”

“If the rest of our lives are a hundred years, I will be happy to smell like glitter and roses for all of them.” Cato promises, leaning down further to kiss her on the cheek more properly. “What do you think we do now?”

“....we live our lives?” Clove offers with the tiniest shrug, before she turns in his arms. “I love you. I don’t say it enough. But I love you, Cato. More than anything else in the world.”

“I know.” He promises his girl, leaning down so that their foreheads touched despite the massive height difference. “And I love you, too. But you already knew that.”

“You forgot something. You said we survived three Hunger Games, and reconstruction. But we survived an entire war, Cato. We survived the greatest war in Panem history.”  Clove points out, before she laces her arms around his neck and rests them there. 

“Will you two get on the train?” Brutus grumbles as he walks past, shaking his head in fake disdain. “You two never change, do you?”

“You may be adults who survived torture and a war, but I’ll still beat your ass if you have sex on this train.” Enobaria threatens from the doorway, waving her hand towards her. “Seriously, come on, I’m already tired of babysitting you two again.”

Clove laughs. Genuinely laughs as she leans back in his arms, taking a step back and nodding towards the train. 

They pause in the doorway, giving one last look over the Capitol as they remember it. They’d be back, probably, but never quite like this. Never in the shadows of war. Not as the remnants of the teen tributes they still feel like they are. 

“You know, how you said everything is going to change for the better?” Clove asks her husband, sliding her arm through his, resting her hand on the crook of his elbow as she rests her head on his shoulder. She lets out a content sigh, and smiles against his arm. 

“Yeah?” Cato cranes his head down to look at Clove, at the girl who has quite literally been at his side for the last fifteen years of his life. And now, she’d be there for the next fifteen. The next fifty, if they were lucky. It’s about time that the odds were in their favor. 

“I think you were right.” 

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 3: The Crown

Chapter 17

After several minutes, Jade and Coral join our embrace, crying with happiness. I can’t blame them, I am too. And then Rizz and the crew are there, pounding me on the back, shaking hands, hugging. A whole string of my teachers welcome me back. Everyone who lives on my street is there, and at the end of it all, Mako’s parents.

I’m not sure how to approach them, but Mrs. Silther hugs me tightly. She is crying, but says, “I’m glad one of you came home. I don’t know what we would have done if we lost you both.”

Mr. Silther hugs me as well. He stays quiet, but this doesn’t surprise me.

Slowly, the crowd disburses until it is only Dad, Coral, Jade, Finnick, Mags, and me left. The cameras are there too, but they quit recording a while ago and are now packing up.

Dad looks around at those of us still there. “I made supper,” he says. “It’s not Capitol fare, but it’s fresh and homemade.”

I don’t know why I expected Finnick to drop me like a hot rock when we got back to Four, but I did, so it surprises me when he says, “Nothing could sound better right now than some real food from home.”

Mags nods, and there was never any doubt that Jade and Coral would join us for supper, so we all walk back together, through the streets it feels like I haven’t seen in years. I can’t help but smiling the whole time. Coral and Jade babble endlessly about all the important happenings while I was gone. Perrin and Lora broke up. Coral was accepted into an honors program at the teacher-training center. Jade is now managing the net shop. One of our teachers, Mr. Conchran, announced his retirement after the upcoming school year.

When we get home, I let everyone else file in first. Except Finnick, who refuses to leave me outside. So I walk in and do exactly what I knew I would. I sink to the floor and cry. They are tears of sadness, of relief, of finally being able to feel everything I haven’t had the chance to feel since the last time I was here. And once again, Finnick Odair surprises me. He sits down next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders and lets me cry myself out.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

At some point, my mind must have slipped away again, because I hear Finnick only vaguely.

“Annie? Can you hear me? Supper’s almost ready, Annie, you’d better come back or it’ll be cold.”

Blinking, I turn back to him. For some reason, I had been looking at the door off to my left. Finnick is sitting in front of me, hands on my shoulders, still talking.

“Annie, I think your dad said he made spicy tuna rolls. Can’t get those fresh in the Capitol, can you Annie?”

I blink again, shaking my head. I take a deep breath. “How long…?”

Finnick lets out a relieved sigh, but he still looks concerned. “At least five minutes.”

I nod slowly. “That’s not ideal.”

“No, not really. But I do think supper is just about ready, if you feel up for it.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Dad has indeed made spicy tuna rolls. He has also made samphire salad, fried shrimp, and salmon and rice. Out of habit, I find myself looking for my nutritional guidelines. Remembering that there aren’t any, I smile and pile my plate with food. I sit at one end of the table with Jade and Coral on either side. Finnick sits next to Jade and strikes up a conversation with my father, which is good because I think Jade would die if he talked to her.

Over supper, they ask me about the Capitol, the week of training that I’m technically not supposed to talk about, but they have now aged out of the reaping, and none of us have younger siblings we could talk to (I also don’t think it would really be an unfair advantage to know about the training center, because the only “secret” knowledge I really have is what stations there were, and they might not even be the same next year), and the Victory Banquet. I am telling them about the carrot cake when Dad announces dessert.

“It’s not fancy, but again, it’s fresh,” and he produces three pineapples from the refrigerator.

I have never before been so excited to see a pineapple. We eat all of them.

After supper, Jade and Coral announce that they are spending the night. This is clearly not news to my father. They probably planned it the minute they found out I won.

Finnick thanks Dad for the delicious meal, then says he and Mags will be back in the morning, and for as many days after as we need, to help with the move. Truthfully, I had forgotten that I am now the proud owner of a house in Victor’s Village. I thank them in advance. After they leave, Dad anticipates my question. “Of course we’re keeping this house. I’m turning it into my office. Can’t take the docks anymore. Getting too crowded down there.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Coral, Jade, and I all pile into my bed that night.

“Okay, we have to know, what’s he like?” Jade says.

“Who?”

“Finnick!” she squeaks as Coral says, “Gloss, obviously!”

I laugh. “You’ll have to take turns.”

“Okay, fine,” Coral sighs. “Start with Finnick.”

“He puts his pants on just like the rest of us: one leg at a time.”

“You what?” Jade splutters.

“I’m kidding! I have never seen Odair He Is without pants, nor do I want to. But he is actually very normal.”

“Oh come on Annie, give us something,” Jade sighs dramatically.

“What do you want me to tell you? I spent three weeks in the arena and another week and a half drugged up and in isolation while the doctor tried to get me as recuperated as she could. And for the week we spent at the training center, Mako was there too.” It sounds a little aggressive now that I’m saying it out loud.

Coral sits up and stares intently at me. “Annie, we haven’t forgotten Mako. How could we? How could anyone? We’re not trying to discount him or ignore what happened or anything like that. We just want to talk to our friend. We missed you so much, and we were afraid you might not come back, but now you’re here, and we just want to spend time with you, and talk, and take your mind off all the horrible things you’ve been through.”

“I’m not that person anymore. The girl who went into the arena… she didn’t come out.”

“Yes she did.” Jade puts an arm around my shoulders. “She’s just different. But we’re still here for her, and we still want to be her friends, if she’ll let us.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I wake up early the next morning. For the briefest moment, I am confused. This isn’t the Tribute Center. Then I remember. I am home. Finally.

I creep out of my room and down the hallway. Dad doesn’t seem to be up yet either. I close the front door softly behind me and make my way to the pier.

The tide is in, so I sit and dangle my toes in the water as the sun rises behind me. I sit until other people begin to arrive at the beach. Families with small children on their way to splash in the waves, a group of teenagers playing ball in the sand, a few old men fishing off the pier.

I wander home. It is midmorning by the time I arrive. The fishing company’s truck is parked outside, already partially loaded. Apparently I missed the mayor coming to give me the keys to my house in Victor’s Village. He left them with Dad. Coral and Jade are boxing up the kitchen. Mags is in the living room, folding and packing a pile of clothes on the sofa that looks like my father’s entire wardrobe.

I stand, watching her, until someone says, “’Scuse me.” It is Finnick, backing down the hallway carrying half of Dad’s dresser. Dad is at the other end.

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping into the living room.

Mags gestures at the pile of shirts in front of her.

I shake my head. “I’m gonna start on my room.”

She gives me a little smile and nod, then goes back to work.

I drift to my room. There are a few empty boxes on the bed, waiting for me to fill them. I move the clothes from my dresser and empty my few shelves of books, picture frames, and knickknacks, then begin wrapping the breakable stuff in shirts and packing it all away. I am about half done when I find the picture of Mako and me from last winter. We are standing on the pier, about to jump in on a dare. We will emerge freezing, but in the photo we are smiling and laughing, arm in arm. I hear the cold slice of metal.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I don’t know how long I was out, but Mags is here, holding my hands and humming gentle songs when I come back to myself. She wordlessly helps me pack until the boxes are full, then we carry them out to the truck. When the truck is full, Dad drives it to the new house. The rest of us walk.

The house is beautiful. And much bigger than we will ever need, but the Capitol has taken so much away from me this doesn’t even feel like it begins to cover their debt. The kitchen is far fancier than what we had before, with a separate dining room. Across the hall is a big living room and a study, and upstairs there are four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and another, smaller, study.

I am not allowed to be in a room by myself anymore. At least that is what I gather, from the way there is always someone tagging along with me. I carry boxes into all rooms of the house, and there is always someone there. When my father and Finnick deposit my dresser in my new bedroom, Mags appears behind them to help me unpack my boxes. When I organize my books in the upstairs study, Jade is there hanging pictures. When I try to hide, exhausted, in an empty bedroom, my father finds me almost immediately and sits with me, telling me mindless stories about what has been going on in the world of fishing since the reaping.

When all the boxes are empty, we go back to the old house to pack the rest. Some things stay there: Dad’s big desk and work ledgers, a few pots and pans, the old couch, some blankets and pillows. But everything else is going to the new house.

Coral and I are in the spare room. She is folding sheets. I am packing the last of my mother’s old things, sitting on the floor in the closet when I feel my mind beginning to go blank again. It is a horrible sinking feeling, but I am helpless against the thunder of the buffalo herd.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

This time it is Finnick sitting against the other wall of the closet.

“…burned like a lungful of ocean. So next time he offered, I had to politely decline, and ever since then he hasn’t been my biggest fan. Anyway, that’s why you should never drink anything Haymitch offers. Unless you saw someone else pour it.” He glances at me and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I rasp.

The box I was packing is gone. Actually, everything is gone. But I don’t have the mental energy to puzzle it out.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say quietly, the words sticking in my dry throat.

“And I’m not sure how to help. I wish I could, but believe it or not, I don’t know what to do either.”

We sit for a long minute before I say, “How long was it?”

He shrugs. “Coral came out in a panic and said you just clammed up. So I sat with you while they finished up and drove back to the new house.”

“So a long time.”

“Yeah.”

The closet is too small for both of us. Even with my knees curled to my chest, Finnick’s knees are next to them, pointing toward the other wall. But neither of us moves to get up.

“I can’t live the rest of my life like this.”

“It’s hard to come back. I know. You have all these people here for you, trying to support you and love you and take care of you, but no matter how much they sympathize, they don’t know.” He pauses. “And that just makes you feel even more alone.”

We lapse back into silence, but it isn’t long before I start hearing them again. Even though I know it won’t help, I clamp my hands over my ears and curl myself even tighter into a ball.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hmmm I should probably wait another day to post part two of Finnick being there for Everlark / being their friend but I don’t wanna sooo. Here it is 🤗

-

I see my mother lead in a group of mobile patients, still wearing their hospital nightgowns and robes. Finnick stands among them, looking dazed but gorgeous. In his hands he holds a piece of thin rope, less than a foot in length, too short for even him to fashion into a usable noose. His fingers move rapidly, automatically tying and unraveling various knots as he gazes about. Probably part of his therapy. I cross to him and say, “Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so I nudge him to get his attention. “Finnick! How are you doing?”

“Katniss,” he says, gripping my hand. Relieved to see a familiar face, I think.

-

Finnick, who’s been wandering around the set for a few hours, comes up behind me and says with a hint of his old humor, “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

-

Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. “Katniss, they won’t let me go! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft!”

I take in Finnick — his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes — and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, “Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.”

At the word trident, it’s as if the old Finnick surfaces. “Really? What’s it do?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s anything like my bow and arrows, you’re going to love it,” I say. “You’ll need to train with it, though.”

“Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there,” he says.

“Finnick?” I say. “Maybe some pants?”

He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear. “Why? Do you find this”— he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose —“distracting?”

I can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable, and I’m happy because Finnick actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell.

“I’m only human, Odair.” I get in before the elevator doors close.

-

At dinner, Finnick brings his tray to my bed so we can watch the newest propo together on television. He was assigned quarters on my old floor, but he has so many mental relapses, he still basically lives in the hospital.

-

Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. In a minute, people will be here to do damage control on Peeta’s condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I’m not confident that they tell me the truth. I won’t be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching.

Finnick grips me hard by the arms. “We didn’t see it.”

“What?” I ask.

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?” he asks. I nod. “Finish your dinner.”

-

“This is what they’re doing to you with Annie, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Well, they didn’t arrest her because they thought she’d be a wealth of rebel information,” he says. “They know I’d never have risked telling her anything like that. For her own protection.”

“Oh, Finnick. I’m so sorry,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you somehow,” he tells me.

Suddenly, a memory surfaces. I’m strapped to my bed, mad with rage and grief after the rescue. Finnick is trying to console me about Peeta. “They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you.”

“You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they’d use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn’t warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should’ve shut up about how Snow operates.”

-

Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, “How do you bear it?”

Finnick looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” Something in my expression stops him. “Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece.

“The more you can distract yourself, the better,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine.”

-

The camera pulls back to include Peeta, off to one side in front of a projected map of Panem. He's sitting in an elevated chair, his shoes supported by a metal rung. The foot of his prosthetic leg taps out a strange irregular beat. Beads of sweat have broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it's the look in his eyes--angry yet unfocused--that frightens me the most.

"He's worse," I whisper. Finnick grasps my hand, to give me an anchor, and I try to hang on.

-

“You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?”

“Can we have a coffee?” asks Finnick.

Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet.

Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. “Want a sugar cube?” he asks in his old seductive voice. That’s how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. “Here, it improves the taste,” he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup.

-

Haymitch’s footsteps are still echoing in the outer hall when I fumble my way through the slit in the dividing curtain to find Finnick sprawled out on his stomach, his hands twisted in his pillowcase. Although it’s cowardly — cruel even — to rouse him from the shadowy, muted drug land to stark reality, I go ahead and do it because I can’t stand to face this by myself.

As I explain our situation, his initial agitation mysteriously ebbs. “Don’t you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they’ll either be dead or with us. It’s . . . it’s more than we could hope for!”

Well, that’s a sunny view of our situation. And yet there’s something calming about the idea that this torment could come to an end.

-

I want to run, but Finnick’s acting so strange, as if he’s lost the ability to move, so I take his hand and lead him like a small child.

-

"Oh, Peeta," says Finnick lightly. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." He leads Annie away after giving me a concerned glance.

-

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light.

Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..."

His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

I laugh. Quickly. Before anyone has time to register what lies beneath the words I have just uttered. Before eyebrows are raised, objections are uttered, two and two are put together, and the solution is that I should be kept as far away from the Capitol as possible. Because an angry, independently thinking victor with a layer of psychological scar tissue too thick to penetrate is maybe the last person you want on your squad.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," I say.

"Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have," Finnick adds cockily.

"Do not think that fact escapes me," he says with an impatient wave. "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

-

Boggs told Peeta to sleep out in full view where the rest of us could keep an eye on him. He isn't sleeping, though. Instead, he sits with his bag pulled up to his chest, clumsily trying to make knots in a short length of rope. I know it well. It's the one Finnick lent me that night in the bunker. Seeing it in his hands, it's like Finnick's echoing what Haymitch just said, that I've cast off Peeta.

-

He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."

The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

Finnick's voice rises from a bundle in the shadows. "Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does.”

-

Masks go on. Finnick adjusts Peeta's mask over his lifeless face.

-

"I just murdered a member of our squad!" shouts Peeta.

"You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot," says Finnick, trying to calm him.

"Who cares? He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to run down Peeta's face. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!"

“It's not your fault, Peeta," says Finnick.

-

I shout a warning to the others to stay with me. I plan for us to skirt around the corner and then detonate the Meat Grinder, but another unmarked pod lies in wait.

It happens silently. I would miss it entirely if Finnick didn't pull me to a stop. "Katniss!"

-

[everlarkficexchange]

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark. 

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

                                                -Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

[softlikethesunset12]

The Most Amazing Coffee

A/N: Hi everyone, here is chapter 3! Thank you guys so, so much for all the response this story is getting. It means a lot :) 🥰🥰

Mistakes are mine. Enjoy! 

Ps. Here is Chapter 1 if you haven’t read it yet. And Chapter 2 too

Chapter 3

The rest of my shift I can only think about how it was to see Peeta again. I don’t really know how it made me feel, I only know that I got a weird warm feeling in my chest every time he smiled at me. And those blue eyes. I just can’t get them out of my head.

I promised Annie (my other best friend) that we would go to a bar tonight. I don’t really feel like it, but I promised her, so I’ll just have to suck it up. And what’s wrong with letting loose a little bit?

My shift ends and I’m walking back to my apartment thinking about how easily Peeta made me ‘confess’ that not everything was and is going good in my life. I never really talk about what happened in high school and at the beginning of college. But maybe I do want to talk about it…with him.

I walk through the door of my apartment to see Johanna. But she’s not alone…she’s with Thom. Her boyfriend. Yes, you heard that right, Johanna Mason has a boyfriend. They are currently in a make out session, so I loudly drop my bag on the floor and hang my jacket on the coat rack. I walk into the kitchen to grab something to drink when I hear Jo say something while wiping her bob haircut out of her face, “Hi Brainless, how was your day?”

“Pretty good actually.” I blush slightly, I curse under my breath and will my blush away but of course Jo already saw it.

“Where are you blushing for?” she says, a slight suspicious tone in her voice.

I walk towards the couch, sit down next to her -she sits on Thom’s lap- and say, “Nothing…” Not making eye contact instead looking at Thom, “Hi Thom.” I add.

She snorts, “You really are brainless if you think I believe that.”

“Fine…” I sigh. “Peeta Mellark came in today.”

Jo looks at me and says, “Peeta Mellark? As in the guy from that amazing bakery?”

“That’s the one. We went to high school together.” I say trying to play it cool.

“You went to high school together?!” Jo asks disbelieving. I can only nod, “You actually went to high school with an amazing baker ánd he’s hot. Win – win situation if you ask me.” She winks at me.

Thom looks at her with an amusing smile, she adds to him, “Not as hot as you of course.”

“Yeah I know he is hot. But it’s…it’s complicated…” I trail off not knowing what to say.

“Seems simple to me. He’s hot, a baker and single. Wait…he is single right?” She asks.

“I don’t know, didn’t ask. He came in with his friend. And we…we kinda talked about going out together.” I say shyly.

“WHAT?! And you are only telling me this now?!!” Jo practically shouts at me. “How did the conversation go? Spill the tea Brainless.” She orders me.

“Well, he came in and I didn’t recognize him at first. When he came to order, I didn’t look at his face so when I asked his name for on the cup he said “Peeta, Peeta Mellark”. Then I definitely recognized him.” I say this in one breath and look at her. She nods at me to move on and then I tell the rest of the story.

When I’m finished, she looks at me and says, “Yeah he totally likes you. But he didn’t ask your number, right?”

“You think so?” I say blushing and looking at the ground. I add, “And no, he didn’t, and I didn’t think of it to ask his number until now. I totally forgot.”

“I am 99% sure that he likes you. And he must’ve forgotten it himself too. Maybe he comes to your work again this week.” Jo says casually but I hear a little hope in her voice.

I nod and say, “Yeah maybe.” And then I think about my evening plans and add, “Are you going to the bar with me and Annie tonight?”

“No, I’m going to stay in with Thom tonight.” She winks to Thom at this. “Thanks for the offer though. Is Madge going?” She asks.

“No, she is spending the night at Gale’s. So, it’s just me and Annie then.” I say shrugging.

XXXXXXXXX

After dinner there is a knock on the door. And a few seconds later Annie walks through it. I’ve met Annie in the park one day when I was running. We were following the same route and then we just started talking and just clicked.

“Are you ready for tonight Katniss?” She asks with a grin on her face. Her beautiful green eyes sparkling, her auburn hair in a high ponytail, and a little make-up on her face. She is wearing a mid-short sea green dress which hug her curves in all the right places. She looks and is really gorgeous, I’ve always thought so.

“Kind of.” I say giving her a half smile.

“Oh, come on Katniss. It’s gonna be fun!” She says enthusiastic.

“You are very excited.” I laugh at her.

“Yeah. Well maybe we come across someone tonight. You never know.” She says jokingly but I hear a little hope in her voice too.

I don’t want to come across someone except if it’s Peeta. But I don’t tell her that, I’m going to keep it to myself for a while so I can figure out what I’m feeling. So instead I say, “I don’t know what to wear. Can you pick an outfit for me?”

“Of course, I can! Does it matter if it’s a dress? I know you prefer jeans.” She says happily.

“A dress is fine. Just not too short please.” I give her a genuine smile.

“She smiles back at me and says, “That’s alright. Now let’s go.”

Forty minutes later I’m in a dark green long sleeve dress that ends just above my knees. It hugs the little curves I have in all the right places. My hair is in loose waves and hanging over my shoulders. I’m wearing for my feeling way to high black heels, but Annie said that they were fashionable. And Annie put on some mascara and clear lip gloss on my lips. I look beautiful, Annie did a really good job. I tell her so.

“You’ve made me look beautiful Annie. Thank you.”

“Oh, stop it Katniss. You are beautiful. I didn’t make you beautiful.” She says looking at me with a stern look.

I feel my cheeks warm up at her compliment. Can you call it that? I don’t know.

I smile shyly at her, “I love you Annie.”

She gives me a wide smile back, “Love you too. Now let’s go drink!”

XXXXXXXXX

We arrive at a nice bar, it’s busy but not too packed. We walk up to the bar to our order drinks. Annie orders two mojitos for us. Normally I don’t really go for cocktails but why the hell not? Annie leads me to a booth at the side of the bar and we sit down.

I am telling Annie everything about today and Peeta, when I suddenly feel eyes on us. I look up to see some guy staring at us, well staring at Annie. He stares at her like she is the only one in the bar. Hell, he stares at her likes she is the only one on the planet. I can’t really see how he looks but he doesn’t look like a creep even though he is staring intensely at her.

I nudge her and nod my head in his direction, “Someone looks interested.”

“What? No, he’s not.” She says waving it off.

“What makes you think he’s not? He is staring at you for 5 minutes straight. Maybe even longer.” I say to her suggestively. “Go talk to him. maybe you find it out.”

“I’m not going to talk to him. I can’t leave you sitting here all alone. This is a girls night out.”

“But you were the one that said that we could come across someone tonight.” I say suspiciously.

“I know but I’m coming back on that now.”

I look at her with confusion, but I don’t push further and say, “Alright then.”

However not even two minutes later, the guy decides to go for it himself. He is walking towards us. But he isn’t alone. A shock goes through me as I recognize the man behind him. It’s Peeta. And it is only now that I recognize the man, he’s with, it is Finnick, Peeta’s best friend. No wonder they’re together on a Friday night in a bar.

In no time they’re standing before us.

“Looks like we’re meeting again Katniss.” Peeta says looking at me like I’m the sunrise. “You look really beautiful.” He adds.

I blush and look at my drink. I have to practice on how I’m supposed to react to compliments because I suck. I look up though and look at him. Really look at him. He looks very handsome in a turtleneck, which compliment his broad, muscled shoulders, it’s a shade darker than his eyes. The color makes his eyes stand out. He is grinning, dimple in his cheek. It’s adorable. Annie snaps me out of my staring by nudging me.

“What? Oh yeah, right. Annie this is Peeta Mellark, we went to high school together. Peeta this is Annie Cresta, my best friend.” I say quickly. Annie gives me a knowing look and I try to keep my blush contained.

“Hi Annie. Nice to meet you.” He says warmly. I look past him to Finnick. He looks at a loss for words, still staring at Annie. I have a feeling that Finnick isn’t often tongue-tied. Peeta nudges his friend slightly. “H-hey I’m Finnick, Finnick Odair. But you can call me Finn.” He says smiling at Annie. Do I hear shyness in his voice? “Oh, hi Katniss.” He says absently as if he just now realized I was there too.

I look back at Peeta who is laughing silently about his tongue-tied friend. He catches my eye and motions his head towards the bar. I look at Annie, who is talking with Finn now, then back at Peeta and nod my head. I stand up and follow him.

“Finn was staring at her from the moment we came in...” Peeta says laughing out loud now. “I’ve never seen him tongue-tied like this. Normally he doesn’t even have to say a whole sentence and the girls are already sold.”

He must see my concerned face because he adds, “He is a good guy though, he’s not going to hurt her.”

“He better doesn’t. Because he’s not gonna survive that.” I say looking at him and Annie talking.

Peeta cocks an eyebrow, “Do I need to watch out?” He says a crooked grin on his face.

My head snaps back and we lock eyes, “Nah, he is the only one who has to watch out. But if he is a good guy like you said than he has nothing to worry about.” I say trying to sound intimidating but failing because I can’t contain my smile. He grins back at me and we’re just standing like this for a few minutes. But then Peeta breaks our staring competition by asking if I want another drink.

“Yes, another mojito please.” I answer. He orders for me and for himself. “I was thinking about how we came across each other today and I realized I didn’t ask your number. So hereby; can I have your number?” He asks a tone of shyness in his voice.

I smile at him, man I have smiled more today than I smiled in couple of months, and say “Of course.” He grabs his phone and hands it to me. I type my number in it and give it back to him. A few seconds later I feel my phone vibrate in my purse, I grab it and see a message from Peeta. I look up at him, he smiles and says, “Now you have my number too.”

XXXXXXX

I wake up the next day by the sound of Johanna in the kitchen. I grab my phone and look at the time -11 a.m.- I’m glad it’s Saturday and that I start at 6 p.m. because I would be so late if it was a weekday. I lay back against my pillows and my mind wanders to last night. It was in one word, amazing. Peeta was really amazing company. I liked talking to him. After I gave him my number, we ordered more drinks and talked for another hour or so about life. He told me how he met Finnick and how they became best friends, I told him about Annie, Johanna and Madge. He knows Madge of course; we all went to the same high school.

At some point Annie and Finnick came to us to say that they were calling it a night. They didn’t go home together but I did see that Annie likes him. And I have to admit that Finn is a nice guy and that I like them together. I know that they just met but I can already see it happen. After that Peeta asked me if he could walk me back to my apartment. I said yes because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. We walked slowly back to my apartment, holding hands and I couldn’t help imagining how his warm and solid hands would feel like on me or how’d they feel tangled in my hair. When we arrived at my door, he kissed my cheek and wished me a good night.

A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the memory. He can go from adorable to hot in just a few seconds. I think I’m falling for him. I don’t know for sure because I haven’t really felt something like this before. That’s a good thing, right? I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of my phone. I look at the screen and I smile like an idiot when I see from who it is.

Peeta (11:30 a.m.)

Good morning Katniss :) How’d you sleep?

Katniss (11:30 a.m.)

Hi Peeta, I slept pretty well :) You?

Peeta (11:31 a.m.)

Me too, very well. I had fun last night. It was really nice talking to you.

Katniss (11:31 a.m.)

Me too, very much. I can get used to talking to you ;)

Where is this flirting girl coming from? I barely recognize myself, but I can’t find it in me too care. Peeta is making me a giddy teenager. And I actually like it. 

Peeta (11:32 a.m.)

Good to know. Because it’s the other way around too.

Yes, definitely falling for him. The warm feeling in my chest is only getting bigger and there are butterflies in my stomach.

Peeta (11:33 a.m.)

I have to get to the bakery. Talk to you later?

Katniss (11:33 a.m.)

Definitely! Have a good day at work Peeta :)

Peeta (11:34 a.m.)

Thank you. Can’t wait to talk to you later!

I really feel like a giddy teenager, grinning like an idiot at my phone. I don’t think I’m making lunch myself today.

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Three (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, drug use/mention, alcohol use, hints at prostitution and I bend the Capitol to my will.

wc; 9.9k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

This morning, you’re up and out of bed without a single complaint. You sit on the bed for a while, staring out the window and watching as the city slowly comes to life. Traffic is light for the first hour or so, but it doesn’t stay like that. You can imagine that everyone is anticipating tomorrow, the last day before the games start.

One breather day before it all goes downhill.

You get out of bed after that, taking your time inside of the shower, mainly trying to find what Annie and Marsh will be like during the interviews. There’s nothing that the Capitol hasn’t seen before, seventy years worth of the Hunger Games--they’ve experienced it all. The most you can do is put a twist on an adjective.

New approaches are always hard, you’re competing with ten to twenty other mentors. Most of them have been at this longer than you have--mainly Haymitch. But to be fair, Haymitch gave up on this whole scheme a while ago. The only thing he does anymore is drink and make a fool of himself on television all the time.

Sad to say, but District Twelve isn’t a threat at all. They didn’t even really post a threat during your games, either. That’s a conversation for a different day, though. You’re not really willing to get into it anymore. Your focus needs to be on helping Annie and Marsh.

By the time you’re dressed and in the dining room, you’ve still come up with nothing. The only other person at the table this morning is Finnick, which is a pleasant surprise. Elysia is always the first and last person out of the dining room. Not to mention, you’re pretty sure she sits out here and waits hours for you guys to appear. It explains why she has the tv on all the time when you get out here.

“Looks like you’ve got an early start going on too.” you say, heading down the steps.

He hums, head dips and then he’s shooting upright in his seat.

“Okay, maybe not.” you stop next to him, grabbing his chin with one hand to make him look up at you. His pupils are dilated, bags beneath his eyes. He looks much older here, not the same guy he was yesterday, “How about you take today off?”

“I’m fine.” he murmurs, moving your hand away, “Just a late night.”

“Go sleep while you can.” you tell him, “Hopefully some of the drugs will wear off by then.”

“They already have, they don’t work anymore.” he yawns, and then moves the plates out of his way so he can rest his head on his arms.

You count in your head how long it takes for him to fall asleep. At five seconds, you get your breakfast, at ten his closed eyes aren’t as tense. When it hits fifteen, his mouth parts and body slumps. He’s out cold by eighteen, nice and steady breaths. It’s going to be a quiet morning after all.

“Can I get something to write on?” you ask the avox.

She gives you a curt nod and disappears. In the meantime, you eat your breakfast and stare at Finnick, who looks like he’s never had a tense moment in his life. The only times Finnick truly looks relaxed is when he’s not awake. As if he’s never been in the Hunger Games, his family isn’t gone, and he’s never worked every night in the Capitol since he turned sixteen.

Your stomach churns, heart squeezing painfully. You try not to frown, but it’s hard not to. A part of you wonders if this is what you look like to your family when you accidentally fall asleep on the couch or in the study, working on paperwork for the boarding school. You’re just a pair of overworked kids, who have never had a peaceful moment since the Hunger Games.

The avox comes back around, you quietly thank her and ask her to clean up Finnick’s plates. She doesn’t disturb him, clearly good at her job. You chew on the inside of your cheek while writing down different adjectives that could describe Annie and Marsh’s personalities right now.

Annie is quiet, she doesn’t speak unless it’s a dire situation or you’ve asked a question. She’s smart and trusting, she can work her way around problems and read into cryptic messages. She’s kind, you’ve seen the way she helps the others in the boarding school, but she’s easily deadly, the way she fights is completely mesmerizing. She’s the last person you’d expect to betray you, which is why she could easily have an advantage over a large alliance. People wouldn’t expect her to sabotage them.

As for Marsh, he’s nearly the opposite when he isn’t feeling anxious. He’s loud, he’ll easily let someone know what he thinks about them, especially if it’s not good. He’s strong, you’ve seen him pick up people twice his weight, but that doesn’t make him a good fighter, exactly. He wrestles pretty well, can get anyone into a position that’ll bring them to tears because of the pain. He smiles a lot, cracks jokes when he can.

You hum lightly, feeling it all come together. Marsh is fun, loud, he can make a show out of the interview. Three minutes would be enough to have the entire audience in stitches. It might even surprise the audience a little, since they always expect the careers to be brooding and quiet, always banking on their training scores. But if Marsh is constantly moving and interacting with the audience, they’ll be taken off guard.

Same thing with Annie, but she isn’t as naturally smooth like he is. She can be friendly and compassionate on stage, the complete opposite of deadly. The Capitol has been holding onto stereotypes for years, and the tributes have been feeding into it. Even you did the same, by promising your family that you’d come home. If Annie just acts as the definition of kind, she’ll be turning it around.

You write this all down, as well as some notes and starter questions that could test their act. You want them to completely avoid conversations about their scores and how well prepared they are. Their scores already say that about them, now it’s time for the citizens to see that they’re exciting.

Around noon, Elysia finally comes through the door. She barely spares you and Finnick a glance at first, but then she pauses on the stairs to take a look at him, “Is he sleeping?”

“Late night, apparently.” you look at her, “I’m ready to get started when you are.”

“Give me a couple of minutes.” she smiles, and then leaves into the hallway.

Unfortunately, this means that Finnick can’t sleep any longer. At least he got a couple of hours while it was possible. You lean against the table slightly, “Finnick.”

He doesn’t move, not even stirring. You wonder what else he took on top of the regular ‘fun’ drugs. Maybe he drank along with it, and knowing the Capitol, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds. You call his name again, but he’s still pretty out of it. A part of you wonders if he’d actually care letting the tributes see him in such a vulnerable state. But if it were you, you’d hope that he’d wake you up.

You slide out of your chair, letting it scrape against the wood floors. You grimace at the thought of touching him to wake him up, you know for a fact that you hated it when your brothers used to do it. It took for that one time when you accidentally went overboard for them to realize that you meant what you were saying about it being a bad idea.

They tried to tell you that you’d never hurt them. But you had to emphasize that it wasn’t you that was waking up first, it’s the scared girl that spent an entire month in an arena that was trying to kill her. She’s going to come out offensive and on the move, you’re going to be right behind her.

Even reminding them about the time someone came up behind you after the games didn’t convince them either. It was right after the Hunger Games too, before the Victory Tour. Some idiot reporter came up behind you as a surprise, and it took half a second before the world went grey and you thought the reporter was the District Twelve boy.

And since in the Hunger Games, the only way to get home is to kill, you nearly murdered the reporter. It would’ve happened if it weren’t for your brothers, who took a hit in the process anyway. If you remember correctly, Mox came out with a bruised rib, which isn’t easy to do considering that he’s pretty much muscle. And you almost broke Reed’s nose, there was blood leaking from it for a good ten minutes afterward.

You guess that they were trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but after a while, you’re just intentionally getting burned, you know? There’s only so much you can do for a person before you need to take their word for it. It’s fine if you’re not perfectly healed just yet. Time does not heal all wounds, some of them will be open forever.

You gently place your hand on Finnick’s back, rubbing it, “Hey, Finnick?” you try your motherly voice, but it still doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe he’s dead.

“Finnick.” you apply more pressure, hearing him take a deep breath.

His arms stretch out beneath him, head slowly raising. You back off, and run a hand through your hair on your way back to your place at the table. Finnick’s got red lines from his clothing across his face, eyes automatically in a squint. His eyebrows push together, looking at your first.

“What time is it?”

“Noonish.” you say, “Tributes are gonna come out in a minute, Elysia is back.”

“You just left me out here?” his nose scrunches.

“No, I actually sat out here the entire time.” you sit in your seat, and then frisbee the notepad across the table for him to look at.

He rubs his face, which is still twisted as he tries to read what you’ve written, “Creep.”

You roll your eyes.

As he reads, Elysia comes out looking more refreshed, “Tributes will be down here in a moment.” she joins you and Finnick at the table, “Am I starting with Annie first?”

“If you want, our plans go either way.” you say, watching as Finnick tilts his head, “What do you think?”

“It’s a twist.” he says, “I’m not sure how they’ll like it, but we can definitely try.”

“Everything’s worth a try nowadays.”

“Can I see?” Elysia asks, Finnick hands it over to her. She reads over it silently, a smile coming to her face as she nods, “Yeah, I think this’ll be good. I’ll try to work that into what we normally do.”

Elysia hands it back to you, Marsh and Annie come out of the hallway. They’re not dressed in anything fancy, not even in something that the stylists have picked out. Normally what the tributes wear are totally up to the stylists, starting from the tribute parade, to the training days, to the interviews. Today is the only day where you’re able to see how they want to be dressed.

Annie’s laid back, a pair of leggings and a loose tank top. She’s got her hair tied back, and gives you and Elysia a polite smile on her way over. Marsh is more casually dressed, jeans, a shirt, a pair of tennis shoes, his hair styled. It says a lot about personality and how they think.

“Good afternoon, hope you guys slept well.” you smile, and then give Finnick a side-eye. He’s not very amused.

“I definitely felt a lot better last night.” Marsh nearly skips down the steps, he’s a lot more confident now, “Since we have good scores, it’s hard to think otherwise.”

He takes his spot at the table, Annie takes hers, “I’m still nervous,” she admits.

You don’t have to say a single thing to her. In fact, Marsh seems to have it all handled this afternoon. He’s definitely had a change of heart. You finish eating, leaving the table to go down to the living room to rearrange chairs and set things up properly. It’s not long until your tributes are full and ready to get started.

“We’re taking Marsh first.” you click the pen, Finnick joins your side.

Elysia guides Annie towards her room, Marsh comes down to where you are. You motion for him to take his seat, which is opposite of the one that you’re sitting in. Finnick takes the role of audience, leaning his head against his fist. He’s got tired eyes, still not awake. You can’t really blame him.

“How do you feel about being in front of an audience?” you ask.

He hesitates, “Is this an interview question?”

“No, not yet.”

“Oh, well…” he thinks for a moment, “I mean, I don’t mind them. The parade wasn’t all that bad. But I think that’s because I was being compared to others, I knew I wasn’t the best or the worst out there.”

You give him a smile, “Well, we’re going for the best here. So, here’s what we’re going to do--”

It’s simple, and Marsh seems to understand it the first time around. No matter what happens on that stage, Caesar shouldn’t ever get the opportunity to make enough tension to ruin the light mood. Marsh needs to be confident, exciting, funny and relatable the entire time.

Which means that if Marsh needs to spend time lining up jokes, then he needs to get to it. You suggest jokes on the expense of District Four--or any of the districts, really--his family if he’s comfortable, and spin it. Make the Capitol look grand and amazing, like kings and queens compared to peasants. However, he needs to be careful not to make him sound sarcastic and overbearing.

There’s a whole list of things that Marsh needs to avoid at all costs; certain family topics, token significance, if he misses home, his training score, what he thinks of the competition, etc. He’s not at all allowed to give the Capitol enough information on him to run with. Tributes in the past have been mysterious, but mentors have combined it with brooding.

Marsh is going to be memorable, fun-loving. Caesar might even reference him in the future when it comes to seeing District Four tributes. What twist will the mentors have to give this year? Stay tuned to see, and if you blink too much, you’ll miss it.

And since it’s not really a coaching lesson without some practice, you and Finnick take turns drilling him. Marsh is clearly a natural at this, he starts off a little stiff, jokes dry and shy smiles. You had to tell him that he needs to stop looking at you as a mentor and as a Capitol citizen who is so unimpressed by how boring he is.

After that, he took it more seriously, and even had you and Finnick cracking up some of the time. Only a few times do you have to remind him not to go too hard on District Four, and how he barely scrapes by with questionable statements about the Capitol. In the end, he’s at a different standing point.

Elysia comes out with Annie, ready to trade. Annie’s flustered, standing at the top of the stairs. She must have done something inside of the room to get scolded, or maybe she was praised? You don’t care, you push Marsh up the stairs and let Annie take a quick snack break before you start the process over.

“Marsh’s interview is going to be a comedy skit.” you tell her once she’s sat down. You and Finnick have switched spots so that he can ask the questions, “We figured that you wouldn’t be as comfortable with a job like that. So, we want you to be as kind as possible.”

Annie’s eyebrows draw in, “If you’re trying to go for unique, you’re going to be failing with me. Plenty of people go for kind.”

“Not the careers.” Finnick says, “Careers always sneak in some aspect of dangerousness. You’re not going to, at all. You got a nine, but Annie Cresta is going to be a kind girl from Four who’s absolutely beguiled by the Capitol.”

A small smile is forming on your face, “You’re going to have to be an actress for three minutes on stage. Do you think you can do it?”

Annie gives a curt nod. Finnick’s smiling now too. You can’t launch straight into the interview, instead you have to give Annie a few pointers beforehand. She catches on quickly, just like Marsh. However, with her, she’s got the act down on lock, she doesn’t even need to be corrected.

And when Finnick alludes to her training score, she easily redirects the conversation somewhere else. Maybe it’s a compliment on the experts inside of the center, or maybe it reminds her about the food she’s eaten! Either way, Annie’s a brick wall, and not even you two can get through to her on the sneakiest questions.

At dinner, Marsh, Annie and Finnick are exhausted, you think that you’re starting to feel it too. Needless to say, it makes for a calm and quiet evening. Annie and Marsh pack it up and head to their rooms around seven, there’s not a single sound that comes from their rooms after.

You sit on the edge of a table next to Elysia and Finnick. You’ve got your arms crossed, Elysia has her fingers perfectly laced in front of her, and Finnick is rubbing under his eye.

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” Elysia says, “I think that you two will be able to sleep in and get up later on, since the prep team will have them.”

“We still have to get up with enough time to dress nicely. Sometime in the afternoon, then?”

“That’ll probably work.” Finnick says, you watch as he twists the loose rope on the bracelet into small loops big enough to slip his pinky through.

You tilt your head up towards the roof, eye following the cracks along the ceiling, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“After the interviews?”

You think you can see a stain on the ceiling, a faint red color, like someone scrubbed the ceiling, “Yeah.” you look back at him.

“No, I don’t think so. The festival knocks out anything that would happen.” His eyes find yours, abandoning the bracelet, “Why?”

Elysia shifts on her feet, “Do you need me for anything else?”

“Uh,” you pause for a moment, thinking. You don’t think so, tomorrow you’ll probably have trouble sleeping past ten, so you’ll be up and doing something. The interviews always have you nervous, no matter how well prepared your tributes are. And as always, this year is no exception, “I don’t think so. I’ll find you if I do.”

She looks at Finnick next, who gives her a slight head shake, “Goodnight, don’t exhaust yourself.”

The last sentence is directed towards you, “Goodnight, Elysia. Thank you for your help today.

She leaves, giving you and Finnick privacy. His eyes are back to being trained on your face. A part of you wonders if you should even bother with an offer like this, you’re sure that he would much rather stay here, or go wherever he used to when the festivities came around after the interviews.

You know you used to shut yourself in your room and be absolutely quiet. Quiet enough to hear every single thing that would happen outside of your door, sometimes extended to the living room if Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy were gathered together. You couldn’t handle it. The night before the games is always the worst, it makes your chest ache at all the second thoughts that had run through your mind.

The what-if scenarios, the thousands of possibilities of what the arena could look like. The different ways you could die. Would it be in the bloodbath after one small mistake? Would it be by the hands of your allies after realizing they were stupid to invite a fifteen year-old to join them? Would it be by your former ally and friend, Finnick, to get you out of the way?

Even trying to project the image of you winning the games didn’t work. You were overwhelmed and anxious and completely unknowing of what your future would be. You didn’t want to end up like all those other kid tributes that end up dead after a few days. You didn’t want to make the same mistakes that you used to make fun of back home.

You can’t imagine how that’s going to go for Annie and Marsh, who volunteered to be here. You know you would be regretting it about now, especially since they’re so close to the cut off age. They could be back home, with their families. But they’re here instead, about to be thrown into an arena to fight for their lives.

This apartment is a cage to tributes, you’re lucky that it doesn’t extend the same way to victors.

“After the interviews, the group and I normally go and hang out around the festival.” you uncross your arms, placing them on the table behind you to lean back, “We eat at a nice restaurant, I normally watch them get drunk. You can come with, if you want.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, face relaxing for a moment. Maybe he thought you were going to say something else? You stop leaning against the table, “You don’t have to go. They’re not your friends, I just thought I’d offer.”

“Why do you go out with them?” he asks, eyebrows drawing in, “You don’t seem like the type to go out there anyway.” he presses his lips together, “Actually, you don’t really intermingle with the Capitol unless you really have to.”

A couple of things come to mind, one by one. The first one is that Finnick has obviously been paying attention to you over the past couple of years. He just gave that away with telling you how your own mannerisms are. However, he clearly doesn’t follow you that closely, because you go out a lot more when you have the time. The other mentors are a getaway when you’re feeling particularly in your head.

The second thing is how his whole demeanor seems to have changed after you told him he didn’t have to. Maybe it’s because you’re backpedaling, but it’s not because you don’t want him there. You know that you’ve been taking up his time over the past couple of days, which has been conflicting with his needy Capitol schedule. You wouldn’t blame him if he just wanted to be alone or something.

The third is how he’s redirected it to you, not answering the question. Normally people will assure you that they’ll go or they have plans before asking you something like this. You don’t want to say he’s getting defensive but it’s hard not to.

Your voice is a lot quieter, a lot softer than you expect to come out, “They’re my friends, Finnick. And they make me feel normal again.” you squint for a moment, and then let out a sigh, “If you don’t want to go, you could’ve just said so. Forget I said anything.”

You slip away, Finnick doesn’t say anything. When you get back to your room, you silently peel off your clothes and get dressed into something more comfortable. You have a feeling that you’ll sleep pretty soundly tonight, considering how exhausted you are. You drop your ring into the small bowl on the bedside table, and then roll over in bed until you’re comfortable.

--

You wake up a little after ten, but don’t leave your room until eleven. The dining room is empty, your tributes have already eaten and are experiencing their own version of chaos inside of their bedrooms with the prep teams. Who knows where Finnick is, after what happened last night. And Elysia is probably off with Pleurisy and Laurel since she has the free time to, and you told her that you wouldn’t need her at all this morning.

You don’t eat much, a little hung up over how you left things last night with Finnick. It’s hard not to think about it, and the mistake you made with your choice of words. Not only did they come out more mean than you intended, but you’re also pretty sure you just ruined whatever progress you’ve made over the past week.

You don’t know if you can stay inside of the apartment all day today. It’ll still be a few hours before Annie and Marsh are ready to be brought to the stage. Until then, you can just disappear and come back in time to go. You decide to go with this, heading back to your room.

You shower, let the machines take care of your hair. It goes from wet and tangled to dry and smooth. You take your time with styling it, after being with Beth for this many years, you’ve learned a thing or two. A majority of your hair is out of your face, you’ll be sure to let it down later. Sometimes during the interviews, the cameras will pan to the mentors or stylists depending on the question.

You brush your teeth while finding what you want to wear. A pant suit could be nice, but you have a feeling that Laurel is already going to go down that path. Still, you can’t help but to run your fingers over the beige and white fabric. The only other real option you have is a dress, but they’re tricky and there’s certain rules you have to follow when wearing one.

You settle for the suit, carefully putting it together one item at a time. White high-waisted underwear that doesn’t show the seams through the pants, a matching bra. You go with a v-neck white shirt, since it’s not going to be seen after the blazer is buttoned. The slacks just barely stop at your ankles, you pull out new white heels that don’t go super high.

In the bathroom, you think you look sophisticated. You think that you might even keep your hair up the way it is, since it doesn’t really matter anyway. You apply the silver jewelry that you think will go with the outfit, and spare a lot of rings so that you aren’t clunky.

Makeup is the hardest part, so you end up calling Leo to come and help you. He’s impressed with the way you look, and works quickly so that he can get back to Annie. By the time you leave the apartment, you’re practically skipping in confidence. You take the elevator down to the lobby, a place already in mind.

Coincidentally, your friends are already gathered in the lobby. Cashmere notices you immediately, a smile spreading over her face. The others look over too, but Wade isn’t as thrilled as the rest of them. They’re dressed just as nicely as you are, you guess you just caught them on their way out too.

“Hey! Long time no see.” Cashmere greets, you snort and settle between Gloss and Enobaria.

“Hey, what are you guys up to?” you smile.

“Pre-gaming.” Gloss says.

“Pre--huh?” you look between them, they let out a small laugh, “The interviews are that torturous for you guys?”

Enobaria nods, “Yeah, I’m tired of sitting through them.”

“Can’t blame you. So, you’re going out to a bar?”

“Something like that.” Gloss says, “Want to come along?”

You tilt your head, giving him a face, “I am not going to drink.”

“Then don’t!” Cashmere grins, “You coming along is going to be good enough. We’ll be back before the tributes are done.”

“Promise me.” you point at her.

She uses her finger to draw an x over her heart, “I promise.”

“Alright, let’s go then.”

They cheer, you laugh and follow behind Enobaria and Wade, making a line with the Ritchson siblings. They place you between them so that you’re more included, and this way they won’t be tempted to fuck with each other. The last time you all hung out before the interviews--or anything important, for that matter--they had to have a last minute costume change because there were rips and dirt smeared everywhere.

Unlike them, you’re wearing light colors, so you’ve got to be extra careful when it comes to touching anything. Gloss and Wade are wearing black, Enobaria’s wearing a dark maroon dress, and Cashmere has got a muted purple dress. You guess that Cashmere’s going to have to be careful too because the purple is kinda light.

They’re all pretty animated, fairly loud when they’re excited. You go along with conversation--which really doesn’t have a range. It can be about Enobaria’s boyfriend drama back home, or how Cashmere had to scold her tributes over their training scores. And since she started that topic, you decided to go ahead and ask questions about it.

“They were supposed to be prepared!” Cashmere rolls his eyes, picking at her nails slightly with a frown, “They told me that they’d been working hard in the gym and I believed them. The one year I try and slack so it doesn’t seem like I have a stick up my ass, and this is what I get.”

You breathe out a laugh.

“I’m serious! The tributes are always calling us names because of how strict we are, and then shit like this happens. It sucks that it takes a problem to prove to people that you’re right.” she looks at you, “Congrats on your tributes scoring nines, though. I can’t imagine how happy you guys were.”

“Extremely.” you say, “It’s fixed how they’ve been thinking for the past week, so thank heavens for that.”

Gloss shrugs one shoulder, you look over to him, “I bet we’ve lost sponsors.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous--” Enobaria glances over her shoulder at you three, “--they could’ve scored ones and they’d still end up with plenty of sponsors.”

“She’s right.” you say, shaking your head, “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be lucky if we even get a couple since we’re not with you guys this year.”

“Which is a bummer, I like hanging out with you.” Cashmere sighs, she twirls a ring of her blonde hair around her finger before letting the curl drop. She looks at you, “We’ll still be friends no matter what happens in the arena, right?”

“Our tributes have killed each other plenty of times, Cashmere. And still, here we are.” you give her a smile, and then share one with Gloss, “You’re my best friends… except for Wade, he’s an asshole.”

He glares over his shoulder, he’s the exception to the group laughter that follows after your statement. It’s his own fault that he’s alienated. You’re half-surprised that he didn’t leave as soon as you showed up at the lobby.

Enobaria leads you all to an expensive bar, you vaguely remember going here before. It was only once, you think. And it’s because of the prices, the alcohol here is strong and expensive. You come here to get drunk, not to dance around the idea of being tipsy. Although, you wouldn’t think that initially.

The entire bar is made up of two colors: a gentle pink color, and pure white. Straight out of some sort of fantasy. And despite its expenses and the fact that it’s the day of the interviews, it’s full of people. For a moment, you’re sure you guys will have to be put on some sort of waiting list, with no empty seats visibly available. But Gloss knows the person at the door, and you all get led to a special room in the back.

Which looks nothing like it does out there. Sleek black couches, dark hardwood floors, minimalistic lamps and succulent plants on tables. There’s one clock on the wall, and absolutely no windows. Enobaria pulls the door shut behind her.

You sit on the second couch, the one that faces the tv better. With you sitting flush against the arm, Gloss sits on the other end. There’s still plenty of space between you two, so you stretch out enough to be comfortable. When you’re done, you’re still not touching him.

Cashmere picks the standing up menu off of the coffee table, flips it open and sits back. Enobaria sits next to her, turning on the television, which is defaulted to Claudius and Caesar. A part of you wonders if the people here watch anything else. They could have hundreds of channels, and yet they default to the news? Wade sits by himself in a distant chair, one leg crossed over the other.

If he’s trying to appear older than he is, all he’s doing is looking like an idiot. It’s going to be hard for him to redeem himself after the show he put on a couple of days ago. Talk about being classy.

“You guys hungry? Looks like they serve food.” Cashmere says, passing the menu to her right, Gloss takes it.

You lean into him, nothing really sparks your interest. Besides, you just ate, “I’m good.”

“Well, I’ll take whatever the hell a ‘Ritchson Siblings’ is.” Gloss says, face scrunching, “Why did they have to use our last name?”

“I bet it’s probably some fruity drink.” You smile slyly, earning glares from both of them. Enobaria’s laughing under her breath.

“I’ll take one too.” Cashmere says, taking the menu from Gloss, and then passes it to Enobaria.

“Do they have a Golding special?” She jokes, and then her eyebrows raise, “Oh shit, do they have all of us? Mine looks like a Bloody Mary.”

You lean forward, hand outstretched, “Give me the menu.”

“I thought you didn’t care.” Gloss teases, you mock him slightly, earning a laugh.

Enobaria hands over the menu, allowing you to get a good look at the menu. At the top is the name of the bar, which explains it all; The Victory Speech. Under it is a fine print on how the drinks are supposed to get you blackout drunk so that you don’t remember anything. And when people get shitfaced, they tend to talk about things they’re not supposed to.

It’s cleverly designed, they switch colors every year. This year’s theme is to support the female victors. When you ask about this, Cashmere says: “Misogyny.” And that practically sums it up.

Anyway, you go down the list. Victors before the fiftieth Hunger Games have a section called ‘Old Timer’s’ because they’re all over the age of sixty at this point. Under this section is Mags and Luther since they’re both pretty old. But it’s vague, and they don’t really name names.

However, after the fiftieth games, it starts with names. Haymitch’s is called ‘Blackout’, and you can’t imagine what that entrails. For all you know, there could be a fucking roofie to ensure you don’t surprise. It probably tastes like literal acid and poison. But knowing the Capitol, they likely found a way to make it taste enjoyable.

Anchor’s is called ‘King of the Sea’ but you also remember people calling it ‘The Sailor’. The drink is twenty different shades of blue, and the foam on top makes it look like the ocean. The ice is in shapes of boats, fish and tridents to make it as appealing as possible.

Enobaria was right about hers looking like a Bloody Mary. It’s blood red, but it doesn’t look like it has tomato juice, more that the alcohol itself is red. The ice in hers is milk white, and you recoil at the thought of it. The title to hers is ‘Bloody Mistake’.

Cashmere and Gloss share their own with ‘Ritchson Siblings’, which isn’t a very fun name, considering all the ones before theirs. If you were to retitle, you think you’d go with ‘Infamous’. The Capitol absolutely loves the hell out of them. Their combined drink is yellow, but it’s shimmery in the picture. And you were right about the fruit, because the fruit is the ice.

And then it’s you and Finnick, separate names and drinks but it’s tied together with a special font that says ‘Complementary!’ and right beside it is a discount offer if you’re ordered together.

His is called ‘Prodigy’, probably a jab at his age when you guys won. It’s completely see-through, you’re not even able to see a chunk of ice in the picture. It comes with a silver trident that sticks out of the cup, blades up. On the end of the points is a lime. The drink is likely brutal if it has an offer of a chaser.

And yours is called ‘Traitor’, which you can’t even be surprised about. It’s clever marketing though, because the appearance is a light blue, with white foam on top. The alcohol is shimmery too, the ice cubes shaped like fish. Sticking out the top is a gummy palm tree, you think. You just know that it’s going to be strong-tasting.

Finally, the last one that you least care about is Wade’s. The moment you read the name of the drink, you’re cracking up. You then remember what his personality was like in his interviews, which was full of intellectually big words to impress the audience and make him look smart. The name is probably the biggest insult, ‘Know-It-All’.

It’s a lime green, there’s chunks of something inside of it, you can’t tell what. Maybe it’s flavored ice? There’s no way to find out unless you actually drink it, and you think that you’d pass. Besides, the name alone is a dead giveaway that this one is going to be strong too. It’s probably a good representation of the whole bar, actually.

“Maybe I will have a drink.” You snort, holding it out for Wade to take. He silently slips it from your fingers and flips it open to read.

“That’s the spirit!” Enobaria says, grinning.

“Oh, great.” Wade rolls his eyes, folds the menu and tosses it on the table, “I’ll pass.”

“Kid needs to learn to loosen up.” Gloss mutters.

“I’ll go and get the drinks.” You push your rings back into place, “What do you guys want?”

“I’ll take my special.” Enobaria says, and Gloss and Cashmere agree on their own. It takes some convincing, but Wade eventually comes around to the idea of taking one of the older victor’s drinks.

You don’t really need to jot it down, so you promise them that you’ll be back in a moment and slip out of the room. The main room is a nice between of loud and quiet. You can hear the private conversations of others, but just barely.

And it seems as if it’s only gotten busier since you first came here. Must be a popular place to go before certain events. You can’t imagine what it’s going to look like after the interviews. Probably packed from front to back, and you can imagine them transforming it into some type of club. It’s got the capabilities of doing so.

You move your hair behind your shoulder, leaning up against the counter while you wait for the bartender to come around. You’re not the first here, and it doesn’t look like you’re going to be the last. If you were to take a guess, you think that The Victory Speech is going to empty out when the interviews come around.

As you wait patiently, playing with one of your rings, you feel a gentle pressure against your lower back, and then feel the presence of someone. Before you can turn, the person is leaning in, “Hey, what are you doing here?” It’s Finnick, and he’s speaking directly into your ear.

You look over your shoulder to see him leaned in close. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, and it looks like you think the exact same way. He’s in a brown suit with a white undershirt. Your eyebrows draw in, one of you will have to change this evening, unless he doesn’t mind matching with you.

You’re about to answer, but your eyes find that he’s got quite the audience that’s watching him. You wonder what he’s here for, and if it concerns any of these people.

Either way, you shrug slightly and try not to be too bothered by where his hand is, “I’m with Gloss and them since they wanted to drink before the interviews.” You give him a little smile, “I’m getting the drinks, do you want to join us?”

Finnick doesn’t answer your question, “Are you sure you should be drinking?” He asks, as if you’re the irresponsible one here. With him avoiding your questions, you must have done something to set him off like this.

Nonetheless, you shake your head, and turn so that you’re halfway facing him. Because of this, his fingers ghost your waist and he has to rethink his hand placement. He goes for your arm now. Why is he so touchy all of a sudden?

“I’m not drinking.” You tell him.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asks. You give him a smile, listing off the drinks that everyone agreed on. Finnick doesn’t move, patiently waiting. The bartender leaves, but you know that he’ll be back around.

“You should be at the apartment.” Finnick says, there’s a slight frown on his face.

“Doing what?” You ask, face twisting, “Waiting for the tributes to be done? Why aren’t you there?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer, you’re being interrupted. The bartender tells you that a waitress will come around to the back room to give you and the others your drinks. After that, you know for sure that he won’t be coming back.

One last time, you look at Finnick, “Coming or not?”

Finnick watches your face, pressing his lips together for a while, and then says: “Not.”

“I’ll see you later, then.” You say.

His arm drops, allowing you to go. You give him and the crowd one last glance, suddenly feeling weirded out that they’ve watched you the entire time. You get a couple of steps in to leave, and then stop. He said that he didn’t have anything to do today, didn’t he? Or did you only ask for after the interviews?

You turn slightly to see that Finnick hasn’t stopped staring yet. There’s a look on his face that you can’t shake. A secret message? Wordlessly, you find yourself extending your hand for him to take. This seems to be what he wants, face relaxing and fingers gliding against your palm. You squeeze his hand, pulling him along. He needed an escape, that’s why he approached you.

You bring him around to the back, free hand reaching for the doorknob when the door opens. Gloss is at the door, laughing at something the others must’ve said. He gives you a bright smile, “Hey guys.” and moves on without really acknowledging Finnick.

“Heading to the bathroom?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a minute!” He says, and then disappears.

You bring Finnick inside, he gently closes the door behind him. Now that he’s safe in here, you feel comfortable enough to let go of his hand. The other three victors in here are already leaned forward, making comments about what’s happening on the screen.

“Hey, Finnick.” Cashmere says, giving him a quick look, “You’re gonna have to sit on someone’s lap.”

“Gloss.” You and Enobaria say together, immediately laughing afterwards. Even Wade cracks up, rubbing his face slightly.

“I think I’ll pass.” Finnick says, you take a seat in your original spot, and then pat the arm of the couch, “Or you could try and squeeze between me and Gloss.”

He goes ahead and takes the arm of the chair. Gloss comes back a few minutes later with the waitress. She serves the drinks, Gloss pays for it all, and then you’re free to drink and watch the Capitol tv until you want to go.

It turns out that the drinks all taste different, with Enobaria’s tasting sweet with the aftertaste being sour. She ends up liking it enough to keep drinking. Cashmere and Gloss are obsessed with the fact that theirs tastes like cotton candy and french vanilla. The fruit that’s floating in their drinks are miracle berries, which turns anything sour into something sweet and sugary. Wade thinks his tastes like peppermint and chocolate.

You pick up yours, the Traitor, “This is going to be horrible.”

“You don’t know that.” Cashmere says, but even she looks apprehensive.

“Thought you said you weren’t going to drink.” Finnick says, you give him a look and hold up the glass for him to take, “This isn’t what I meant.”

“Too late, you dug your grave.” Enobaria sips on hers, already used to the sour taste.

Finnick sighs and takes a gulp of it. Then, his face twists and he holds out the cup as if there’s something wrong with it. You raise your eyebrows, “What’s the matter?”

“It tastes like saltwater.” Finnick says, and even smells it to make sure.

“Bullshit.” You take a sip of it, and find out he’s right. The salt aspect isn’t all that overpowering, thankfully. But it does taste like water, “Huh.”

You pull out the sour gummy palm tree, taking a bite out of it to find that it’s practically flavorless too. You’d bet all of your money that people tend to mistake the drink for water and that’s how they end up hammered. You smell it too, expecting it to have at least some aroma, but it’s bland. You set it on the coffee table.

“I think that one sip for each of us is enough.” you laugh, Finnick does too.

“It’s probably a painless way to get drunk.” Cashmere says, leaning forward, “Can I?”

“It’ll be you who gets alcohol poisoning.” you motion.

The drink gets passed around, with everyone being surprised that you two weren’t lying about it. By the time it’s back on the table, it’s almost gone. Cashmere shares her drink with you, but you’re very light when it comes to sips. Not because you’re afraid of ending up making a fool of yourself, but because the sugary aspect of the drink is making your teeth and the back of your throat hurt.

While playing games with each other, mostly trying to get to know Finnick more since they don’t know that much about him, you all keep track of the time. The atmosphere inside of the room easily lightens up, Finnick relaxes enough to constantly have a smile on his face. Your mentor friends are charismatic enough to keep a conversation going and to keep it from getting tense.

Even Wade seems to open up too, but you’re fairly sure that it’s his drink that’s making him do it. Either way, you all end up in stitches, red-faced and wiping tears from your eyes. At least you know that Finnick isn’t mad after last night.

“I’ve finished my drink.” Cashmere says, pushing her glass onto the table, “It might be time to go.”

Finnick glances at the clock, you think it’s about thirty minutes back to the Tribute Center, “Yeah, guess so.”

You yawn, stretching your arms. It feels good to stand from the couch after sitting for so long. The others place their glasses in the middle of the table to make it easy for clean up. You dust your clothes off, pick up the door card that’ll say the room is dirty.

“So, was the matching outfits intentional?” Wade asks, leaning against the wall while you wait for the others to be ready.

“Actually no, we’re just psychic.” you give him a slight smile.

“Right.” he rolls his eyes, it’s quiet between you two for a moment as you watch Gloss try and fuck up Cashmere’s dress. She settles for punching him in the middle of his chest, “I’d like to apologize for what I said the other day.”

You look back at Wade, “Just be careful next time. You’re lucky it was me, otherwise you probably would’ve had your shit rocked by some other mentor. They’ve got pent up frustration, and they’d love to have a justified reaction like mine.”

The others start coming your way, you open the door and slip the door card on the outside handle so that a waitress can see that the room needs to be cleaned before it’s used again. You find Finnick towards the back, but end up pulling him to the middle after Enobaria and Wade start to lead you guys out.

You wrap your arm around his, “Let me repeat what I asked last night,” you look at him, “Are you busy tonight?”

His face falls slightly, “I’m not supposed to be.”

“And going to a restaurant might change that.”

“Going out in general, but if we can find a place like this one--with a closed door and a group then it’s less likely.” he frowns, and bites his cheek, looking away.

“Are you going to get in trouble for today?” you ask, he shakes his head.

Outside on the street, you can see that things are beginning to get busy. You don’t let go of Finnick, just in case something does happen. It’s a good thing that you’re with others, though, because again, they easily lighten the mood and have you guys giving soft smiles and some comments if it’s really needed.

You all have to split up in the lobby. You give gentle hugs and wish them good luck with their tribute’s interviews. Gloss and Finnick have their own kinda moment, which you quietly joke with Cashmere and Enobaria about.

“You’re lucky that Gloss doesn’t have a crush on you, otherwise he would have challenged Finnick for the alpha male status.” Cashmere says a little too loudly, which earns a nasty glare from him. Cashmere initially suppresses her laughter, but you crack up and it’s all over.

You and Finnick take the elevator up, deciding not to change what you’re wearing and just be matching for one night for nostalgia’s sake. You make it back just in time, with Elysia coming out of the apartment, face lighting up when she sees the two of you. She quickly readjusts some stuff on the two of you, but stands off to the side in the end to wait.

Marsh comes out with his team first, dressed in navy blue and black. He gives you guys a bright smile, and then laughs slightly, “You guys twinning on purpose, or--?” He trails off slightly, but it only lasts a second before he’s laughing, covering his mouth. You and Finnick must’ve had the same reaction.

Annie comes out a couple of minutes later, wearing a seashell pink dress. The bottom of it is layered so that it resembles the inside of a shell, with spiked shoes and pearls wherever the prep team could fit them. She shines in the light, and the red on her cheeks is to exaggerate blush.

“Absolutely stunning!” Elysia starts, which triggers the other prep team to follow in her suit. You give an approving nod to Laurel, who gives you a slight smirk.

“You two matching on purpose?”

“For fuck’s sake--” Finnick breathes out a laugh, punching the elevator button.

“I think there’s time to change.” Laurel says.

“We’re good, thanks.” you shake your head, heading inside of the elevator.

One by one, everyone crowds in. Five prep team members, Laurel and Pleurisy, Elysia, you and Finnick, and Annie and Marsh in front. Elysia presses the button to bring you all down to the base floor. All the tributes are already lined up against the wall, dressed in their own fancy ways.

You stop the tributes a little bit out of the elevator, “Look at me.” they do, Finnick stops beside you, “You’re amazing, your act is unique, you’re going to blow away the competition. There’s no doubt about it, so don’t even worry. If you two get nervous, we’re all in the crowd. Find your favorite and talk to them like they’re your best friend. Got it?”

They both nod, and you give them a smile, straightening up. Finnick speaks next; “Just remember that you’ve already shown them you’re good at fighting. Now it’s time to show them that you’ve got a winning personality, and you do.”

“Take deep breaths, guys. You’ll do fantastic.”

Sitting in the crowd with the rest of the Capitol is always a weird feeling. You cross your legs and lace your fingers together while you wait for the room to fill. They’re always going to be nervous, it’s just what they do with it that matters the most.

“Do you guys know any restaurants that’ll have closed doors?” Finnick asks, leaning over.

You give him a look, “Finnick, we’re victors. All you have to do is whisper it and they’ll get us a private room. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

He smiles, “As long as you promise.”

The tributes come onto stage, allowing everyone to get their first looks at the competition. Some tributes are dressed more expensively, others are loose and laid back. Annie and Marsh are pretty much the standard when it comes to dressing up for the interviews. They represent their district in some aspect while also looking like themselves.

Caesar starts off with a few jokes to get the crowd in their regular mood, and then he’s introducing the girl from District One. You silently pick apart their personalities, she’s sexy and dangerous, and the boy isn’t as smooth when it comes to instincts. He nearly trips over a small crack in the stage, it’s a dead giveaway why he scored so low.

The girl from Two is bright, with big smiles and animated talking. She seems genuinely interested in conversation, you’d like to say that she’s going for a nice aspect, which will totally flip inside of the arena. The boy is brooding and quiet, hardly opening up at all. He’s absolutely huge too, bigger than Finnick for sure.

District Three isn’t all that important, they’re geeky, shy and stutter a lot when they try and answer. When Annie is introduced, she gives a cute smile and stops next to Caesar, and from the very beginning of her interview to the very end, she’s got the Capitol absolutely wrapped around her finger. So much so that the tributes behind her are rolling their eyes, fed up with it. At the very end, she curtsies and gracefully takes her seat, crossing her legs and leaning back smugly.

Marsh walks up with a wave and a grin. His first few jokes don’t land properly, but it doesn’t discourage him. His eyes find you and Finnick, you give him an encouraging smile. After that, he seems to find his footing, eyes occasionally coming back to you two if he needs reassurance. Once again, he’s swept the entire audience away, they want more when his time is up.

When he sits down next to Annie, he holds his fist out, and she bumps hers against his.

The end of the interviews come around quickly, and since neither of them have allies, they don’t have a reason to mull around the floor talking to others. You give Cashmere and them a wave before the elevator closes, and then suddenly everyone’s buzzing all at once over your tributes.

Annie immediately flushes red, Marsh taking all the compliments like a champ. There’s assurance that they’ll be remembered for a while because of their acts, and how there’s absolutely no way that they didn’t gain traction. Tonight, the attention is probably placed on them and their new perspective on interviews.

Dinner is loud and lively. Tonight’s meals are delicious and filling, but you and Finnick eat scarcely because you’ll be eating out with Enobaria and the rest of them in an hour or so. The avoxes bring out a giant three tier cake modeled around District Four. When Elysia takes the first slice, candy pearls fall out of cake, all varying colors. You guys go ahead and watch the interviews one last time, pointing out details you hadn’t noticed before and cracking up at Marsh all over again. Needless to say, they’re pretty proud of what they’ve done today.

Annie and Marsh part with whatever tokens they want inside of the arena. Laurel, Pleurisy and the prep teams hug them goodbye. Although, the stylists will be the only people seeing them tomorrow. You, Finnick and Elysia are left with the tributes, and you have a faint sense of deja vu. You’ve been here plenty of times before, after interviews with two tributes that you’re too fond of.

But unlike before, these two are special pearls.

Elysia is the next to say goodbye, eyes a little watery like they are every year. She’s not allowed to wish them good luck, or say anything nice. She mutters out the insult that she’s required to say, and then disappears into the apartment.

It’s up to you and Finnick to finish off strong.

“We’re on your side.” you tell them, “We’re always working behind the scenes to pull strings. Look for hidden meanings in things.” you fidget with the engagement ring, “You can always change your mind when it comes to allies. The careers offered you a place the other day, but we turned them down. You can use that to your advantage, if needed.”

“If you find yourself in sticky situations, act on your instincts and worry about the repercussions later.” Finnick says, “Sometimes it’s better that way, but not all the time. If you’re unsure of anything, it won’t hurt you to change. Whether that be eating, drinking, finding a place to stay--any of that. If a situation feels weird, then it is weird.”

“Find water first.” you say, opening your arms. Annie’s the first to take the hug, you squeeze her shoulders tightly, “Remember, these are your games. You decide the outcome here.”

You hug Marsh too, “Go to bed, order herbal tea if you have trouble falling asleep. You’ll need every wink you can get.”

“Thank you for everything.” Annie says.

“Thank you.” Marsh echos.

You give them a smile, “Thank me when you come back.”

“Yes ma’am.” Marsh jokes, him and Annie go up the stairs and to their rooms.

You let out a deep breath of air, pressing the heel of your hand to your head, “There was so much more to say.”

“It’s okay, (Y/n). You said so yourself, they’re smart.” Finnick elbows you slightly.

“I know.” you calm yourself slightly, and then stand up straight, “Alright, let’s go before they think we’ve ditched them.”

“Can’t wait to have a second dinner.” Finnick snorts.

“Get ready to pop some buttons.” you grin cheekily, “And maybe make a fool of yourself.”

--

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

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[hutchhitched]

So Wrong, So Fast

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 79: Peeta has been planning this marriage proposal for months. It goes horribly wrong. Tell me all about it and what happens next? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the fourth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Hope this helps ease your stress during hurricane season, @katnissdoesnotfollowback. This story can be read in the universe of An Everlarking Christmas as a prequel.

____________ 

 “Finn, have you seen my tie?” Peeta Mellark yelled down the hall of their apartment. “I’ve got two minutes before I need to head out.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

 He turned and burst out laughing. His roommate stood in the doorway in ragged sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. Wrapped around his neck was Peeta’s favorite tie.

 “Are you trying to ruin this night for me?”

 “I would never do such a thing,” Finnick crowed and loosened the tie. With an exaggerated wink, he tossed it to Peeta and plopped down on the bed. “So, what’s the plan? Wine and dine Everdeen and then bring her back here for a little roll in the hay? Should I change your sheets for you? Make myself scarce?”

 “I don’t know how Annie puts up with you,” Peeta muttered and tugged the knot in his tie. It wasn’t quite sitting right, and it was driving him a little nuts. It had taken a lot for Katniss to agree to a formal dinner for their anniversary. She was much more comfortable out of the spotlight or working behind the scenes. Peeta’s insistence that she be showered with affection made her squirm anxiously any time he brought it up, but he’d wanted to do something special to show his girlfriend how much he really loved her, and a fancy dinner date seemed like a tried and true method for demonstrating affection.

 “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Finn. I’ll probably stay at her place tonight. I mean, I am planning to pop the question.”

 Finnick yelped and sprang from the bed to engulf his roommate in a bear hug. Lifting Peeta off the floor, he spun them around and finally set Peeta down again when they were both completely dizzy.

 “How could you keep this from me?” Finnick barked in a mock offended tone. “You know how much I love romance, and I’m running out of fresh material. What have you got planned? Music? A special menu? The ring in the dessert? No, scratch that. In the champagne? Got her favorite flowers? Rose petals at her place and lit candles? Tell me everything.”

 “You’re worse than Delly,” Peeta snorted, referring to his childhood best friend who enjoyed being a woman more than almost any other female. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jinx it. There’s only so much a guy can handle before he breaks down in a puddle of nervous goo.”

 “Can I see the ring?” Finnick asked, still practically vibrating with excitement. “I need ideas for the one I’m gonna buy—because we both know it’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

 “You’re a mess. You know that?”

 “I am a lovable, sex god who’s given up my reign for the fair Annie Cresta.”

 “You’re an idiot.”

 “An idiot in love who supports you in your inferior attempts to romance women.”

 Offended, Peeta glared at his friend. “I am very romantic. Katniss just doesn’t really like it.”

 “Oh, really?” Finnick hooted and crossed his arms. “You still haven’t told me what your plan is.”

 “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow because I need to go.” Turning to his friend, Peeta exhaled and held out his arms. “How do I look?”

 “You look good, man. You got the ring?”

 “Shit! The ring.” He scrambled to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. Rifling through the contents, his fingers settled on a velvet box, and he grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket. “Gotta go. Wish me luck!”

 “Good luck!”

 Finnick’s well-wishes rang in his ear as he rushed out the door. Jumping into his car, he slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and…nothing.

 “No, no, no, no, no! Not tonight.”

 Turning the key again, Peeta groaned when the battery didn’t turn over and smacked his palms on the steering wheel. Frantic, he leapt from the car and ran into the house.

 “Finn! My car won’t start. Can I—?”

 “Keys are on the counter. I’ll have Annie pick me up. You’ll need to get gas.”

 “Thanks, man!”

 He was halfway to his girlfriend’s house when he glanced down and saw the gas gauge was almost on empty. Swearing, he crossed his fingers he could make it to Katniss’ place and then to the restaurant before he had to stop. Irritated that he’d hit almost every red light between his house and hers, he jammed the car into park and rushed to her door.

 “You look gorgeous,” he breathed when she opened the door, and he grinned at her shy smile. He leaned forward to kiss her. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent and nudged her lips open with his. She tasted amazing, her lips soft and coated with lip gloss. When she moaned into his mouth, he pulled away and took a shuddering breath. “You ready to go?”

 She nodded and took his hand. “I’m not used to heels,” she laughed when she wobbled a little against him. “Or dresses. Or makeup. Or not wearing a braid. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

 “Into dinner?” he teased as he helped her into the car and shut the door. He hurried around the car, jumped in, and turned to her. “Sorry. My car wouldn’t start.”

 “Into a fancy dinner,” she answered. “What’s wrong with your car?”

 He shrugged and grimaced. “Probably a battery. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. How was your day?”

 Peeta listened as he drove. He was still jumpy, but having her by his side calmed him a little bit. She wore a slinky peachy, salmon colored dress that dipped low on her chest and hinted at a tiny dip of cleavage. Her gorgeous legs stretched from the hem that rested just above her knees to strappy, gold heels that elongated her legs and made them look twice as long. Her dark hair, which she usually tucked back in a braid, hung loosely in waves around her shoulders and halfway down her back. God, he loved her.

 He pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and helped her out of the car and to the door. Still unused to the heels, she leaned against him, and he reached over to kiss her forehead just as they got to the maître d. He gave his name and frowned when the man looked over his reservation list with a bored look.

 “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t seem to see your name.”

 “That’s impossible. I made the reservation two weeks ago. Mellark, table for 2. Can you check again, please?”

 “Certainly, sir. Let me just check tomorrow, too. Just in case. Sometimes we make mistakes. Ah, yes, here it is. I’m afraid we have you down for tomorrow evening instead.”

 “But—”

 “Not to worry, sir. I’m sure it was a miscommunication,” the man assured in an infuriatingly disinterested voice, but Peeta flushed with discomfort. He had a niggling feeling that maybe it was his mistake and not the restaurant’s, but he was grateful they seemed willing to accommodate them—even if the guy looked like he’d rather do anything than speak to them. Possibly it would all still work. Perhaps the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would be soothed by good food and attentive service. Maybe he’d ask the woman of his dreams to marry him and she’d say yes. Otherwise, he might die of humiliation.

 “Uh, I—”

 Katniss watched with a bemused expression. When Peeta seemed incapable of stringing together more than two words, she suggested calmly, “Perhaps we could wait at the bar while the table’s prepared?”

 “Yes, miss. If you’ll just step this way, we’ll serve you there. Might I suggest a red?”

 Peeta followed and sagged gratefully onto a stool. The bartender asked for their orders, and Katniss surprised them both when she asked for a gin martini. Taking his cue from her, he ordered a bourbon. The smoky, caramel flavor washed over his tongue and eased his jangling nerves. Grateful for her calm, he entwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

 “Sorry for the confusion,” he said in a low voice. She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim through her eyelashes. A bead of liquid lingered on her lower lip, and he gave her a soft kiss to lick away the stray drop.

 She hummed against his mouth. “I think I can forgive you,” she murmured and kissed him again.

 By the time they got their table, his stomach rumbled, and Katniss had the look in her eye she always got indicating she’d crossed into hangry. However, the waitress, a slight young woman named Rue, took care of them graciously and attentively. She suggested flash fried spinach for an appetizer and left them to themselves.

 Dinner was spectacular. The food was delicious and they chatted and laughed as they enjoyed each other’s company. Wrapped in each other, they shared bites and tangled their spoons over the last bit of sorbet and ganache. Everything was perfect until the bill came and he reached into his back pocket. Peeta’s face drained of color. Stricken, he looked at Katniss. He couldn’t believe what he’d have to do.

 “What’s wrong?”

 Devastated, he answered, “I can’t believe I did this.”

 “Did what?”

 “Katniss, I forgot my wallet.”

 “You forgot…”

 “Yeah, my wallet,” he repeated, his cheeks flaming with humiliation.

 She laughed and leaned across the table to grab his hand. “It’s no big deal. I can get it.”

 “That’s not the point, Kat. I asked you to dinner. I made a huge deal of it, and now I can’t even pay. I’m so sorry.”

 “You know, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for this gaffe,” she teased. “I might as well just break up with you right now. I mean, how could I ever trust you again? Be honest, hon. You’re really just looking for a sugar mama, aren’t you?”

 He knew she was teasing, knew it meant nothing and was intended to make him feel better, but he was sick to his stomach. After all this time, all the planning he’d put into proposing to the love of his life, and he couldn’t even manage to remember his wallet. If nothing else, it seemed like a terrible omen. How could he handle a marriage if he forgot such basics? He tried to tell himself he’d never done this before, that it was the only time he’d ever been quite so careless, but his insecurities got the better of him.

 He was quiet as Katniss paid the check and they walked to the car. Maybe there was still time to salvage the evening. He had the ring in his pocket. The proposal would make his mistakes all better. He’d planned for weeks. Arranged for every variable. It was going to be perfect. He just had to get them to where they’d first met.

 Music played softly as they drove with the windows partially lowered. A gentle breeze whipped through the car, and her hair created a cloud around her face. She sang softly, and his heart clenched at the joy on her face. He always wanted her to sing more, since it brought her such pleasure, but it was highly personal to her. He didn’t get to hear it nearly enough.

 They were less than a mile from their destination when the car started to chug, and his stomach dropped. “No, no, no!” he growled. “Please, no.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 “God, please keep going,” he begged, but Finnick’s car shivered and shook and ground to a halt. If it’d been a person, he would have said it coughed itself to death. “Shit.”

 “Peeta?”

 “We’re out of gas.” Slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, he released a long groan and thumped his head against the headrest. Grumbling, he closed his eyes and took in a huge gulp of air. “What a fucking night.”

 “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s so bad.”

 He glanced over at her and gave her a sad smile. “You’re so amazing.”

 “I’ve heard that before,” she grinned. “My boyfriend tells me that all the time.”

 “Does he?”

 “He really does.”

 “Lucky bastard.”

 “He really is.”

 The way the moonlight fell across her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to paint her in that moment, so he could freeze time and live in it forever. More than anything, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

 “How married are you to the idea of those shoes?” he asked suddenly.

 “I despise these things, Peeta. You know that.” A smile played across her lips, and he stretched across the seat to kiss her.

 “Take them off.”

 “Why?”

 “Just do it. I have a plan.”

 Full of renewed energy, he bounced out of the car and ran around to open her door. Offering her his hand, he pulled her upright and threaded his fingers through hers. Without a word, he kissed her forehead and led her down the street.

 “Are we going to the meadow?” she asked as they rounded the corner. “Sweetheart…”

 He grinned and guided her to a tree at the edge of the open area before hauling her in for a passionate kiss. She melted against him, and he cradled her to his chest.

 “I love you so much, Katniss,” he murmured against her lips. “I can’t remember what my life was like without you.”

 “I love you, too.”

 “Do you?”

 “Yes,” she whispered.

 Grinning, he dropped to his knee and looked up at her. Her eyes widened when he sank down, and he reached into his pocket to pull the ring box free.

 “Every day since I’ve met you has been better than any best day I had before we met. I don’t want to have another one without you. Katniss Everdeen.” He paused and opened the ring box. Holding it out to her, he asked, “Will you please make me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?”

 Katniss nodded vigorously. “Of course, I will, Peeta. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

 Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t even been aware how nervous he was until she agreed to his proposal, but he suddenly felt like his limbs were limp noodles. He couldn’t comprehend the buzzing in his veins, but he was sure his blood was florescent with endorphins. That wasn’t a thing, but still. Thrilled, he reached into the box to get the ring and—

 “You have got to be kidding me!”

 The ring box was empty. The ring he’d picked out for her wasn’t there. Instead, the slit where it should have been grinned at him manically, and he wondered briefly who he’d pissed off in a past life to make this night go so spectacularly terrible. After all the planning and soul searching and angst, the perfect proposal had disintegrated into such a total pile of—

 “What’s wrong?”

 Katniss stood over him, trembling and half-grinning/half-weeping. The longer he remained on his knee, the more concerned she became. He looked down at the empty box that mocked him and huffed in annoyance. He realized as the moisture from the ground soaked into his pants at the knee that he’d grabbed the box he’d kept from a prank gone wrong with Finnick on Valentine’s Day. In his rush, he hadn’t even bothered to make sure he got the one with the ring in it.

 “I’m an idiot. That’s what’s wrong,” he groaned.

 “Are you— Do you not want to…” she asked in a tortured whisper.

 He popped to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, no, sweetheart! Of course, I want to marry you. I’m so happy you said yes. I just, uh— I forgot the ring.”

 “You forgot the ring?”

 Frustrated, he nodded and hung his head. “I really, really did.”

 Silence hung for a few seconds, but then he felt panic bubbling inside him until— Laughter poured from him in lusty bursts that shocked him and caused her to chuckle. Before he knew it, he was doubled over, heaving for breath, and laughing so hard, he almost fell over. Katniss joined him after a few seconds, his mirth contagious as he struggled to gain his composure. Soon, they clung to each other as they guffawed, unable to stop.

 “Who proposes and forgets the ring?” she howled, her eyes sparking with humor.

 “I do!”

 “Runs out of gas. Forgets his wallet.”

 “Me!”

 “Why is this so funny?” she giggled. “Bless your heart. You tried so hard.”

 He forced himself to get it together and pulled her close. Brushing her hair back, he tilted his head and kissed her. “I really did.”

 She hummed against his mouth and opened it as his tongue swept inside. The kiss grew heated quickly, and he slanted her mouth so he could devour her. When she whimpered, he tangled her hair in one hand and let the other drift lower to cup her hip and then pull her leg up and over his.

 “Katniss,” he hissed as she rocked her hips against his.

 “How mad do you think Finnick would be if you abandoned his car?”

 “Furious. Why?” he asked between heated, open-mouthed caresses.

 “I really don’t want to wait for help when we could get a ride to your place.”

 “I thought we were staying at yours tonight.”

 “We could,” she breathed against his cheek before catching his earlobe in her teeth and biting it gently. “Or we could go to yours, put that ring on my finger, and consummate our engagement.”

 He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “That sounds pretty amazing,” he breathed as he nibbled along her jawline.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Hmmm. Maybe we can salvage this night after all.”

 “You mean me agreeing to marry you wasn’t enough for our date to be a good one?” she teased as she pulled away and started walking back to the car. “Shoes. Purse. Would like to take them with me.”

 He tugged his phone from his pocket and arranged for a car. Grinning, he called after her, “It all went so wrong, so fast, but I think we’re on our way to making it even more memorable.”

 “I love you, Mellark,” she yelled over her shoulder.

 “I love you more, Everdeen! Gonna marry the hell out of you.”

 She backed away from him, and he followed. The last thing he wanted was to let her slip away from him into the darkness.

[jlalafics]

Modern Au dabble where Everlark connect on the roof of one of their houses and then cute kiss leading into ya know? Thanks! You and your books are amazing! -Zeffie ♥️♥️

Hey love! Thanks for this amazing prompt. I hope you wanted this ficlet with a good amount of spice...

Enjoy @hungergamesfangirl02 (Zeffie)!

_____

The moment she steps onto the roof, Peeta spots her.

She is circling the space with her roommates; the sharp-tongued woman with blunt bangs and crimson lowlights and the blue-eyed blonde wearing a crown of flowers. His roommate, Gale, had a one-night thing with the blonde. Peeta can still remember the muttered moaning of her name through the thin walls of their apartment: Madge…Madge…Madge…

Peeta drinks from his red cup, trying to quietly observe the girl in the middle. She’s wearing a cropped jean jacket and a shift burgundy dress with embroidered straps. The ankle boots lengthen her rich-colored legs and he wonders, albeit briefly, what he would see if a sudden gust of wind were to sweep through.

However, it’s summer in the city.

Balmy and warm, the sun just going down and it’s practically another day.

“Peeta!” He turns, spotting Finnick, his other roommate, and Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend. It’s his friend’s birthday and a possible engagement party. Annie doesn’t know, but Peeta and Finnick just picked up the ring from the jeweler this afternoon. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“You know that I’m not the party type,” he tells them with a smile. Peeta eyes his friend. “So…anything interesting going on?”

“Not quite,” Finnick responds, throwing an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Maybe a little later.”

Peeta nods, trying to suppress his smile. It’s not often that his friend is uncertain; he’s known Finnick since they were in diapers and his bronze-haired friend has always moved forward, unafraid of what was ahead of him.

However, when it comes to Annie, the man is total mush.

“You need to circulate,” Annie tells him, her green eyes full of kind concern. “It’s been a year since Delly.”

“Who’s Delly?” comes a brash voice.

They all turn to find the woman with red hair standing before them.

And, right next to her is—

“Katniss!” Annie is rushing towards the pretty girl to give her a hug. Then she goes to Miss Blunt Bangs, embracing her as well. “Johanna!”

They all pull apart and Annie introduces them to Finnick and Peeta.

“I’ve seen you before on campus,” Finnick says to Katniss—Peeta is already in love just hearing her name. “You’re a voice major, right?”

Katniss nods. “Yup, but more song writing and composition than singing.”

“Well, you should talk to Peeta here.” Finnick waves at hand at him, clover eyes sparkling. He knows Peeta well enough to identify when he’s interested in something…or someone. “He’s exceptionally talented when it comes to playing. I don’t think there’s an instrument that he hasn’t experimented with.”

Katniss turns, grey almond-eyes on him. “I’ve seen you around before.”

“I don’t go to Juilliard,” Peeta stammers out.

“No!” She grins and he finds himself smiling back at the way her face completely blooms with loveliness. “I’ve seen you sitting on this roof. You play out here sometimes.”

“Yeah, Katniss has been mini-spying on you,” Johanna informs him.

“Really?” He eyes her and Katniss’ cheeks color—geez, now she’s even more gorgeous. “I’m flattered.”

“I actually live over there—” Katniss points to the adjacent building. It’s at few floors higher, but just enough for someone to look over and see clearly onto their roof. “—sometimes I go up to write or to look at the stars.”

“Don’t lie to the man,” her friend retorts, earning a glare. “At least tell him that you’re a little hot for him holding a guitar.”

“Johanna—” Annie thankfully interrupts. “Thresh has been looking for you.”

“I gave him a blowjob last month and he’s been hitting me up ever since,” she replies. Looking over at Katniss, Johanna winks. “Have fun with your mystery man.”

The two girls walk off, leaving Finnick, Peeta, and Katniss standing together.

“Oh!” Finnick looks around. “I think I better make sure that we still have enough ice and prepare for my birthday speech.” He pats Peeta on the back. “Have fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more obvious setup,” Katniss tells him when they’re finally alone.

“They mean well,” Peeta replies. “At least, Annie and Finnick do. Johanna is a bit of a mystery.” He looks over to the bar. “Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.” They head to the bar; Peeta tries to keep cool as Katniss joins his side. Their hands are a muscle movement away from touching and he stiffens his hand. “I’d love a Corona and lime.”

“Very summer of you,” he replies before requesting it from the bartender. “How do you know Annie?”

The bartender places the tall neck bottle, placing the lime wedge at the opening, before handing it to Katniss.

They find their way to a spot at the far corner of the party and settle down together on a lone bench. Finnick is talking to the DJ and he sees Annie talking to Madge, whose arm is around Gale’s waist. Johanna has found Thresh and they are dancing, both decently tearing up the floor.

It’s the perfect summer night.

“She works with Johanna,” Katniss explains. “I think they’re EAs for the two CEOs, so they’re always working together. I’ve known Johanna my whole life. When I found out I got into Juilliard, I didn’t hesitate to ask her to come with me. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. Her home life was less than ideal.”

“That sucks.” Real smooth, idiot. His tongue is so tied around her, but Peeta takes a breath and searches for another topic. “How about you? What’s your family life like?”

“I have one sister. Sweetest girl you’ll ever know.” Her smile goes soft and sad, lost in thought. “My Dad passed away when I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand goes unconsciously to hers resting between them. Peeta motions to pull away, but her fingers entwine with his.

Their eyes meet, silently agreeing that it feels right.

“It’s fine. He was sick for a long time,” Katniss explains. “When I was 12, my mom met Haymitch and we all kind of loved him from the start. They got married when I was 13 and have been thoroughly happy ever since.” She moves closer. “And you? Tell me about your family.”

“My Dad’s a businessman,” he starts. “Have you heard of Mellark Bakery?”

“Yeah, they have that huge factory across the bridge,” Katniss replies. “Your Dad work there?”

Peeta holds out his free hand, wondering if he should have open this can of worms. However, if this is going anywhere (is it too early to propose?), he should probably tell her about his family.

“Nice to meet you. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss let out a laugh, putting down her Corona to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was meeting with a son of industry!”

“My Dad is actually pretty cool,” he tells her. “He’s always been very encouraging and supportive of me and my older brothers, Emmett and Noel. Emmett is an artist and Noel is a chef.”

“And your mother?”

“Pretty opposite.” Katniss squeezes his hand, listening intently. “She’s a society woman. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

“Oh, she is going to hate me,” Katniss replies.

Peeta grins at her words. “Already planning to meet the parents?”

“Of course. We’ve connected, you know?” she proclaims. “Now that I’ve seen you up close, there’s no going back.”

“And your family?” he counters. “Would they like me?”

“They’re going to love you,” she says, her grey eyes on him. “You seem so easy to care for.”

Peeta looks at his feet, overcome by her words. “How do you know?”

“Last month, I was coming home from school and you were walking out of your building. There was a little old woman coming out of her taxi and she seemed to be struggling to even open the door. So, you opened the door for her, and you helped her set up her walker on the sidewalk. Then, you paid for her cab and helped her inside your building. Nobody does shit like that anymore. Everyone always seems to be looking out for themselves, nowadays.”

“Mags has lived here the longest, so she’s kind of building royalty,” Peeta explains. “Also, her husband died a while back and she has no kids. The people in this building are her family and we take care of one another.”

“I like that,” Katniss tells him.

“I like you,” he blurts out. “I mean, if it hasn’t been obvious enough.”

Katniss doesn’t respond, but she shifts a little bit closer to him as she stares into his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Peeta is intrigued by her abruptness. “What did you have in mind?”

She pulls him by his hand to stand up. He rises and their chests brush against one another. It is brief, but it is enough to light a fire in his belly at the feel of peaked nipples against his thin flannel button-down.

“We’re going stargazing.”

++++++

“For some reason, Johanna has a deal with the maintenance crew in the building,” Katniss recounts as they step onto the roof of her apartment complex. “No one else but myself, Johanna, and Madge are allowed up here.” She leads him over to a set of lounge chairs. “I don’t really know what kind of deal she cut, and I’ve never bothered to ask.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he tells her. “Are you allowed to bring people up here?”

“I’m pretty sure that Johanna and Madge have brought guys up here before.” Katniss turns to him, her eyes glowing under the light of the moon. “You are the only person that I’ve ever brought here…the only person I want to bring here.”

Peeta isn’t sure if it is the moon…or the Corona…or the heat of the night…but something dances inside his chest, telling him to go to her. Her eyes are on him, hunger so intense in them that there is nothing he could do but go to her. Katniss follows suit, marching towards him with determination.

A groan escapes her lips at the feel of him hard against her pelvis. “Peeta, please…”

They meet in the middle of the roof, breaths heavy and Katniss reaches to cup his cheek. His arm rounds her slender waist, pulling her close to let her feel what she does to him.

“What would you like?” he asks, voice roughened with need. His free hand moves along the lines of her body and she whines, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what you want, Katniss.”

“I want you to kiss me.” Katniss’ mouth grazes against him and he nearly crumbles at the feel of heat between her legs. “Then, I want you to fuck me until we both see stars.”

His mouth is on hers, slotting them together. He sucks harshly at her upper lip as her hands reach for him, holding his face in place as she bites at his lower lip. They both moan into one another, tasting lime and alcohol and the fire between them.

Katniss moves them towards one of the chairs, her hands traveling down and reaching to the buttons of his shirt as her tongue sweeps into his mouth. His own hands move to yank at her jean jacket until she shrugs it off.

“Touch me, Peeta,” she says into his mouth. His shirt has been tossed to the ground and her hands roam unabashedly against his heated skin.

Peeta reaches for the hem of her dress and Katniss complies, lifting her arms up so he could pull the dress over her head. Once it is off, he steps back and looks at the beautiful woman under the summer moon.

Every inch of her skin is caramel and Peeta licks his lips ravenously as his eyes rove over lush breasts with rosy nipples…the graceful dip of her waist…full hips…and nude mesh panties that cover a thatch of dark hair.

“You are beautiful,” he rasps.

Katniss slowly sits down on the lounger, resting back. Her chest heaves, nipples pointed in the warm air, as she waits expectantly for him.

Peeta kneels before her. Carefully, he takes her boots and places them next to the lounger. Then, he is at her center, mouthing her through the mesh and sampling the honey pleasure of her core. Her hands go to his hair, fingers running through his hair and nails scratching at his scalp as he sucks and tongues her through the scrap of nothing.

“Fuck! Peeta!” Her wails are like gold and he moans, vibrating against her cunt. “More, please!” He moves the scrap of cloth away from her quim and plunges his tongue inside her. “Oh my God!”

Part of him is thankful for the party next door, the vibration of music sheathing her cries in the air. Peeta loves the sound of her, unabashed in showing him how good she feels. Katniss pushes herself against his tongue, legs wrapping around his head as she humps his face.

He is drenched in her; his new favorite drink for a summer’s night.

Peeta’s hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly.

Pulling away, Katniss whines at the motion until she sees his pants undone. Her eyes, already smoky, have gone obsidian at the sight and he pushes his briefs down, his erection jutting out.

She sits up, one hand pressed to the seat as the other reaches to his length, wrapping her fingers around him. Her thumb moves to the mushroomed head, spreading the precum and he almost seizes at the sensation.

“You’ve given me what I want,” she tells him, her hand stroking him slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want to show you the stars,” Peeta replies, his hand reaching to her panties and she lifts her hips, letting him slide them off until it joins their pile of discarded clothing. He stands before her, reaching for the waist of his jeans and boxers before pulling them off in one motion. His shoes and socks followed, joining her boots.

He stands before her, naked and obviously wanting.

Katniss lays back, pushing herself up onto her elbows, admiring the sight before her.

“I did watch you from here,” she says, her voice strained. “You’d fiddle with your guitar and I’d fiddle myself.”

The image of Katniss, hands on herself…fingers dipping into that dripping cunt is just too much.

Peeta falls to his knees, yanking her down until ass is at the edge of the chair, the backs of her legs pressing along his front.

Then, in one motion, he thrusts roughly into her sodden quim.

The moment Peeta slides into her, her whole body growls.

He can feel her contracting around him and he begins to move, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her slick. Peeta leans down and their lips meet, her body practically folding in half so he can taste her.

Katniss moans into their kiss, tasting her essence against his tongue as they move against one another. The chair creaks under the pressure of their fucking and he can’t imagine that it feels very comfortable.

He attempts to lift her in-between thrusts, but Katniss frantically shakes her head.

“No, just like this,” she gasps into his sweaty skin. Her legs spread away to wrap around his waist. “Won’t be long now…”

She feels too good, silk and sopping around his cock. Her grip on him is the perfect pressure and as he thrusts, Katniss arches up, bottoming out.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you go now.”

Hell, Peeta is already convinced that this woman with the dark waves and smoky eyes is the woman that he’s going to marry. In his mind’s eye, he already imagines her in a white dress…carrying her over the threshold of her dream home…of fucking her against every wall of the house…of filling her to the brim until she’s swollen with his child.

“Don’t let me go,” Katniss cries out, her insides beginning to flutter around him, and he juts his cock shallowly knowing that he’s going to spill inside her at any moment. “I wanted you since the moment I saw you…fuck….oh…” Her muscles pulsate around him and her pelvis rises to meet his thrusts.

Her cries are swallowed into the starry sky above them and Peeta watches her in the beauty of her climax. Her hair flows behind her, her skin glistening, and she’s smiles up, her eyes full of love.

She’s watching him, jaw clenched, as the sky above is suddenly illuminated by fireworks, creating a halo around him.

Peeta comes undone, filling her, his pelvis pressing to hers until he is spent.

After, he lays, pillowed against her chest, her hand smoothing down his mussed hair.

“I see stars…” she whispers against him.

“Annie must have said yes,” he explains. “I picked up the ring with Finnick today.”

Katniss snorts. “When Finnick does something, he goes hard.”

“So do I,” he tells her.

She kisses the top of his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see.”

They are married three months later.

 FIN.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Wedding Colors (Part 2)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

9:00—mentoring. The buzz that Haymitch had been feeling was killed even before Peeta kicked him out of the hospital room.

The boy was angry. “What if I’d murdered the people who were trying to help us because I didn’t know they were trying to help us!!? Do you think anyone would be asking me to frost a cake for Finnick’s FUNERAL if I’d slit his throat!? I can’t even look at you right now. Just go.”

It didn’t help that Haymitch’s eyes looked so much like Katniss’s.

At least Peeta was becoming more lucid. Haymitch took the boy’s justifiable anger as a positive sign and respected his request to be alone.

At the other end of the hospital, he opened the girl’s door to find Johanna plugged into Katniss’s IV. They both looked up but neither moved an inch.

“Jealous?” Johanna sneered.

“Not my drug of choice, sweetheart,” though her comment was spot-on. To Katniss he asked, “Are you okay with this?”

“It’s fine.” She winced, and he glared at Johanna.

“What? She says she’s fine. Plutarch took her for a walk yesterday afternoon. He probably just held her leash too tight.”

“I can tell them I don’t need the morphling anymore...” Her threat wasn’t far from the truth, and Johanna knew it.

“It’s nothing personal. Plutarch has us all on leashes. Even your *mentor* there.” Johanna looked pointedly at the communicuff on Haymitch’s wrist.

Her mockery pissed him off.

“Plutarch talked to you yesterday?” he asked Katniss.

“Yeah. He’s planning a circus, and he gave me the job of looking happy.”

“You. Happy? I would’ve cast somebody else.”

“I can do it. Since the circus is Finnick and Annie’s wedding.”

“Right. ...I’m going to walk away now and pretend I didn’t see you two... bonding.” He motioned to the IV then said to Johanna, “If she’s screaming in pain later, I’ll be ripping that port out of your arm myself.”

Sarcasm dripped along with the morphling. “Sobriety has had such a calming effect on you.”

“Something for YOU to look forward to soon.”

Johanna’s expression was steady as stone. ...Almost. Nobody would have noticed the subtle flinch, except for an addict.

“Katniss, I’ll see YOU later.” Haymitch closed the door behind him.

So the kids knew about the wedding before he did. What’s the point of wearing this *shackle* on my arm if Plutarch doesn’t tell me anything?!

Haymitch made his way back to Peeta’s room and stood in the corridor looking in through the one-way mirror. The boy was sitting at the art table which orderlies had brought in days before. Delly Cartwright was by his side. They were painting with watercolors. Peeta’s brush stroked out an ocean scene with cresting waves and sea life. With the paintbrush in his hand, Peeta was calm. In that moment, he seemed almost like himself.

The damn communicuff buzzed, and a message from Plutarch appeared on the screen. “Change of schedule. Report for exercise at 10:00. Details await you there.”

Being outdoors sounded better than being shut out by the kids or seeing them in pain. They were still alive, but they were messed up. Like me... Or worse.

Mentor. Johanna’s ridicule settled in his bones.

***

10:00—exercise The staircase to the surface had been rebuilt quickly after the bombing. The tight control in 13 produced efficiency. He’d give Coin that much credit.

Climbing the stairs was more exercise than he’d get in the yard. By the time he got to the top, he was breathing hard.

“Now that’s a familiar sound.” Effie’s voice came from the shadows and lit him up.

He moved toward her. “Me out of breath? Typical.”

“Last night...”

“Not typical. ...And more fun than this.”

He was surprised to see her. She wore a heavy coat and carried a large canvas sack over her shoulder. Additional bags and a set of leaf scoops were on the floor near her feet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going for a walk in the woods —with you. Plutarch’s orders.”

Haymitch was confused, but too amused to not play along.

“I see you’re bringing a weapon.” He tugged at the pruners which were hooked through a belt loop on her pants. “Are you gonna protect us from carnivorous trees?”

“Just me, sweetheart. You’re going to protect yourself.” She held out a second set of pruners.

As he took them, he lingered on the fabric covering her hand. “Is this the latest fashion?”

“Cloth is more practical than lace, but must EVERY stitch of fabric here be gray or white?!” She held out a pair of work gloves for him too.

“If I’m wearing these, then how am I supposed to touch you?”

“No touching, honey. We have a project to do. Coin is giving us two hours to gather enough foliage for the district to make wedding decorations.”

“I heard her announcement asking for volunteers. I just didn’t think she was talking about me.”

“You are here at MY request.”

He took a half-step toward her. “So you’re giving me orders to spend two hours in the woods with you without touching you?” He took another half-step and felt the buzz return as their clothing brushed.

“We aren’t in the woods yet,” she said, “You can touch me now...”

The hair on his chin grazed her temple. “Where?”

Warmth flooded her. “You choose.”

He stepped back. “Sorry, sweetheart. If you get to make me a gardener for two hours, then I get to make you wait at least that long.”

“Haymitch! Don’t bother turning me on if you’re just going to make me wait!”

“Well, aren’t YOU the pot calling the kettle black. ...Am I turning you on?”

“You KNOW you are—“

“I have your trackers.” They were interrupted by a security guard, armed with an automatic rifle equipped with a spotting scope.

“Lex, this is Haymitch. He’ll be the other person accompanying us.”

“Glad to meet you,” the guard said as he lifted Effie’s pant leg to fit the tracker on her ankle.

“Wait a minute. This guy’s coming with us, AND he gets to touch you?”

“No need for envy. ...He’ll be touching YOU too.” Effie smirked.

The guard proceeded to clamp the second tracker onto Haymitch’s ankle.”

“Just what I need, another shackle.” He was tired of being treated like a prisoner, and he was sick of sobriety. Even if he could take the tracker off and leave, where would he go? His house was still standing, far away in 12, but that place was just a shell. Nearly every person he cared about who was still alive was in 13. And his duty was here. He’d been waiting his whole life for this stand.

Haymitch scowled when Lex’s hands skimmed Effie’s hip as he clipped a communicator onto her belt loop.

“Look, man, this is just standard procedure. I’m not interested in touching your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” They spoke in unison, then looked at each other.

“Sorry. I just assumed... I’ll position myself in the center of the search area. Don’t wander more than 50 yards from me in any direction.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot us?” Haymitch asked.

“It’s not our policy in 13 to shoot civilians.”

“See there, even cave people can be civilized.” Effie muttered under her breath, talking mostly to herself.

“If you move too far out of range, I’ll message you through the communicator. Stay together.”

Haymitch pulled on the gloves then picked up two canvas sacks and the leaf scoops. Stay together. For a moment, it sounded better than ‘stay alive’

***

In the weeks since the bombing, the exit from 13 into the woods had been cleared and secured. Effie was grateful to not have to crawl through bent metal and broken blocks of cement.

As she stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped her in the face. It carried the fragrance of cedar, like a hope chest, and the smell of approaching rain. Dry ground indicated that none had fallen recently, and she wondered when it would come. Hopefully not before noon! She unzipped her coat just enough to reach inside and pull her sunglasses out from the pocket of her shirt. The lenses tinted the world rose. That view was more familiar.

The guard split off from them to stand watch at the top of the ridge.

“We have three sacks. Let’s fill each one with foliage of a warm color: red, orange, and yellow.” Wasting no time, Effie marched straight into the woods, following a narrow trail.

“The High Priestess of Nature is on a mission,” Haymitch teased from behind her.

Much of the vegetation around them was foreign to him. 13 was far north from the woods he’d forayed into as a boy, breaking laws in order to spend time at the lake. Other plants were the same.

“Uh, priestess... is there poison ivy in the Capitol?”

“Poison?” She stopped in her tracks, imagining a coiling plant about to sink its fangs into her. “I don’t know. What does it look like?”

He pointed to a vine near her feet, and she leaped back, nearly knocking him over. He steadied them both with a hand on her waist.

“THAT!?” she exclaimed, “Well, EVERYTHING here looks like that!”

“Because you’re taking us into a thicket of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I AM telling you.”

“What will it do to me?” she whispered, fearing that talking too loudly might wake it up or something.

“If you don’t touch it, then nothing.”

“What if I touch it?”

“See how the leaves are shiny? That oil gets on your clothes and transfers to your skin. It gives some people a rash that itches like hell.”

“Maybe YOU should walk in front.”

“Why? So you can look at my ass?”

“Let’s call that a side benefit to the primary goal of not getting poisoned!”

He reluctantly let go of her waist, turned around, and led them out of the thicket.

They found a wider trail and followed it to a tree with large leaves, red as cranberries. Haymitch recognized it as the same variety growing behind his house. He didn’t pay much attention to that tree at home, except when it looked like this. It’s strange... a person can be around something so often but not think about how remarkable it is until it’s changing.

The wind whipped up again, and leaves were falling like rain. Effie was already scooping them up and filling the sack she’d been carrying.

“Wait,” he said, “Look...”

“What? More poison?”

He pointed to the sky, and she tilted her face up to a shower of red. She slid the sunglasses up to her forehead so she could see the true color. Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the branches. She squinted her eyes but didn’t close them.

“In the Capitol, nature is manicured — controlled. In Capitol Park, all the trees are planted the same distance apart. When leaves fall, a crew of Avoxes carts them away before the next morning. It’s nothing like this. This is wild.”

“...And familiar.” With a gloved fingertip, he touched her windburned cheeks then pulled a red leaf from the top knot of her kerchief. Over her coat he traced from her heart to the small of her back, following the path of the tattoo buried under her layers.

The memory of him holding her there the night before was a freight train barreling through her. “Ohh... this is why we agreed to not touch each other.”

“Yeah, about that... I lied.”

The leaf scoops dropped to the ground, and she interlaced her hands behind his neck. “Just for a minute, alright? Just give me a minute...” She kissed his cut lip, soft like she’d wanted to at breakfast. “Does this hurt?”

StoppIng this is what’s gonna hurt. He kissed her like when he was trying to get her out of his system. Only he knew better now, and he kissed her anyway, slow and certain.

She felt it like madness. “My hands were on my body this morning,” she murmured, “I pretended they were yours. In all the places you touched me. Haymitch... I came so fast.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m trying to control this. But...” I’ve wondered about it so long. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

In defiance of gravity, he pulled back from her. “Here’s what’s going to happen... We’ll collect the leaves, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Because if you say another word now about making yourself come, then I swear I’m going to lay you down right here—“

“And you’ll fuck me. ...Say it. Tell me you will.”

He could feel himself bending to her desires. It was unsettling, and erotic. “Yeah. I will. To hell with whoever’s watching! But it’s not just the guard. It’s probably Coin; it may be Snow; it could be anybody. I’ve already shown too much of my hand out here, and the clock is ticking.”

The reminder of Plutarch’s words and of the arena made her refocus. She caressed his neck as she let go.

They channeled the intensity into the work, meandering through the woods along animal trails. Scurrying sounds in the bushes made Effie’s heart race, but she avoided a heart attack like she evaded poison ivy.

“Scurrying things are mostly lizards, field mice, and foraging birds. The real threats are the things you DON’T hear coming.”

“WHY would you say that?! With all of the words you have to choose from in this situation, THAT is what you say to me!?!”

“I’m trying to ease your mind. Good ol’ Lex is up there watching from the ridge. We’re gonna be fine.”

They scooped and clipped foliage from a dozen trees. “Every leaf we collect must be freshly fallen or plucked from the branches. Nothing brown or decomposing is acceptable.”

“Nothing decomposing?! Who’s making these rules anyway?”

“I believe you called her ‘The High Priestess of Nature’.”

“What do you think is happening to leaves when the colors change? Poetry?”

“Maybe poetry. Why not?”

“This is a deciduous forest, sweetheart. These leaves are all dying. There’s nothing poetic about it. Death is a knife in somebody’s back or poison in her veins. And then nothing.”

“If that’s all it is, then why did you tell me to watch the leaves fall? And why did we feel so alive?”

He had no answer.

***

Returning to the fortress, Effie carried a sack across her back and the scoops in her hands. He slung the other full bags over his shoulders. Neither of them had much breath left to complain about their burdens, but they talked some.

“You’re stronger than you’ve let on.”

“I used to credit cycling classes at Capitol Spin. Now it’s endless staircase climbing in *the dungeon*.”

“What about the strength inside you? Where does that come from?”

“I... I don’t know. That’s not easy for me to feel.”

I feel it. “Thanks for getting me outside today.”

“Will you come to the dining hall this afternoon?”

“I’m all thumbs when it comes to making things like garlands. My parents’ craftiness skipped my generation.”

He seldom mentioned his family. There was so much pain there. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. But if she pushed, he shut down. So she took in his comments whenever they came and tried to piece together a picture of the early life his Games destroyed. The more the images came together, the more protective she felt.

And the more she knew of anger.

She’d always folded anger up tightly and locked it in a box. The act was subconscious. Compartmentalization was happening less readily now, if for no other reason than the boxes she’d stuffed unwanted aspects of herself inside were getting full.

“You don’t have to make anything... I’d just like to see you there.” I’m anxious about facing people.

“After lunch I need to check on the kids, but I’ll try to stop by later.”

“I wish Peeta was recovered enough to participate.”

“He’s decorating in his own way.”

“Is he??”

The trail widened, and Haymitch walked alongside her. “It’s Plutarch’s big secret. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you.” His smile was wide enough to show the gap between his teeth. “And that wouldn’t work because I want you alive.”

The wind rushed around them, and she thought again about how easy it would be to let it take her. “Keep those secrets for now. My world has suddenly become rather interesting. I think I’ll stay alive and find out what’s going to happen next.”

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 3: The Crown

Chapter 14

Caesar helps me to my feet as the lights come back up. He turns his microphone on and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, Annie Cresta!”

We stand together, smiling, as the cheers and applause build to chaos, then slowly sink back down. When the noise has reached a “polite applause” level, President Snow walks onto the stage. Caesar steps back, leaving the spotlight to me. Behind Snow follows a boy bearing a small pillow on which is a shining, impossibly bright, silver crown. When they reach me, Snow takes the crown from the pillow and holds it up to the crowd. They begin to cheer again. Snow turns to me and sets the crown on my head. The audience roars.

“Congratulations, Miss Cresta,” President Snow says. “That was quite a feat of swimming. I’m sure your people are very proud.”

“My swimming teacher certainly is,” I say with a polite smile.

He nods, then takes a step back. The spotlight is mine and mine alone. Thousands of people scream and cheer for me. I won. I get to go home. I smile in relief. The crowd thinks it is for them and they love me all the more.

After several minutes, Caesar reigns in the audience by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, I know you love her, but our victor does have a banquet to get to, so I must take her away from you.” He offers me his arm and escorts me off the stage. Once we are out of sight, Caesar gives my hand a squeeze and says, “See you tomorrow. I look forward to a great many jokes at Finnick’s expense.”

I smile back and we part ways as the whole team from Four sweeps me off to get ready for the banquet.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Back in our dressing area, the Preps are out of their minds with excitement. This is apparently the biggest party of the year and they are ecstatic both because they get to dress me for the evening, and, as the support team of the victor, they are invited to the party. Marius, as usual, looks like he couldn’t care less. He hands Finnick a bag almost as big as he is and says, “Mags’s is in there too.” Then the Preps rush me into a separate room so they can change me into a different dress for the banquet.

Marius sticks with the sea green. I assume it’s because very few colors won’t look ridiculous with my hair, and he doesn’t want to die my hair because it is one of my defining features. The skirt, which is poofed out by about seven layers of tulle, hangs midway down my calves, which, thankfully, are finally regaining some muscle, so I no longer have complete chicken legs. The Preps adjust my hair to accentuate the crown and reposition the crown to sit “more flatteringly. I know he’s the president, but you can’t put a crown on top of the eyebrows like that, it has to sit back.”

Marius puts me in the iconic rope-strap heels, except they are about half the height of the first ones. He has either taken pity on me or decided that I will already be taller than most people at the banquet and it might not be the best idea to exaggerate that by another six inches.

We reconvene in the main dressing area. Finnick is wearing a full suit, which is about three items of clothing more than the Capitol usually dresses him in, but they probably want to keep him from stealing the spotlight. Tonight is about me, after all. I am a bit jealous of Mags’s outfit. She has a floor-length skirt, a simple blouse, and an intricately-woven shawl. On the whole, it looks very comfortable.

With the three of us dressed, we go outside and get in a car, which takes us to the presidential mansion.

“Ready?” Finnick says as the Avox driver gets out to open the door for us.

“Not even a little.”

“Well, do your best.”

The door opens. Finnick gets out, then helps Mags exit the car. He hands her off to Casca, who looks genuinely happy to be walking her into the banquet. He has always seemed to have a soft spot for her though, so maybe it shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. I am beginning to get lost in this thought when I notice Finnick’s hand. I take it, looking up at him, confused.

“You know I can walk myself,” I say quietly as he helps me out of the car.

“Yes, it’s called being an escort.”

I open my mouth, but he quickly cuts me off. “Not like that.”

I smile. “Sure, Finnick, whatever you say.”

So we walk, arm in arm, through the front garden, already smattered with partygoers, and up to the front door. A sharply-dressed Avox opens it, and we step inside.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Nothing could have prepared me for the Victory Banquet. It isn’t televised, or really talked about even (beyond people saying how decadent the food was and mentioning all the big-name people who were there), because the Capitol wants to keep it extremely exclusive. Invites are hard to come by, and everyone who is anyone is sure to be there. And the three Preps, who look out of place in their over-the-top excitement. But I’m glad they’re here. Friendly faces are welcome in this sea of strangers.

Finnick guides me deftly through the crowd, only occasionally pausing to introduce me to someone. At one point he whispers, “Don’t worry about remembering their names if you can’t. They’ll be so excited if they see you again later that they’ll reintroduce themselves without even thinking about it.”

We finally enter an enormous room with food-laden tables all around the outside except for half of the far wall, which is home to half a dozen musicians. The middle of the room is empty, left for dancing, I suppose, and between that area and the food there are couches where even more people are lounging and eating. We have taken no more than three steps when a hush falls on the room. President Snow, seated at one of the farthest couches, halts his conversation, stands, and raises a glass of champagne. “Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, Annie Cresta!”

All around, people raise their glasses and cheer, but it is more polite than the cheers I got at the interview or the show earlier tonight. This is high-society applause.

President Snow excuses himself from his conversation and makes his way over to me.

Finnick squeezes my hand and says, “I will return with food,” before slipping away through the crowd.

I want to call him back, but Snow is already at my side. He offers me his arm. “Would you care for a dance?”

No. No I would not, but I don’t think he’s really asking, so I take his arm and let him sweep me around the dance floor. I would rather spend the next few minutes of my life watching Finnick eat those stupid strawberries from all those weeks ago than dance with the president. And yet, here I am.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not very familiar with the waltz,” I say, concentrating only on taking small steps.

“I’ll lead then,” Snow says with a smile. It looks genuine, but in the way that makes me certain it isn’t, or at least that he is trying too hard. After a while, he continues, “I must congratulate you again on your victory. It was hard-won and well-fought.”

“I’m just glad I knew how to swim. Not everyone was that lucky.”

“Indeed not. And not everyone is lucky enough to have such loving and supportive family and friends as you, Miss Cresta. You have a great many people who care about you, and who I am sure you care about as well.” His face is smiling, but his eyes are stone cold. This is a threat.

“Yes. Without them I’m quite sure I would have died in the arena. But here I am, at this splendid party that I have you to thank for.”

“You are most welcome. The Capitol always takes care of its victors, asking only that you continue to behave like victors in return.”

The song ends. Snow gives me the tiniest of bows, then drifts back to the sofa from whence he came.

Someone grabs my hand. I jump, but it is Mags. She guides me around the busy dance floor to a couch with a coffee table in front of it. There are several glasses of champagne, but no food. Finnick is standing next to the table, talking to a handful of middle-aged couples, telling them some story about a seagull trying to steal a sandwich from Mags.

“And then it had the audacity to come after me, because it was too afraid of getting another beating from Mags, so what could I do but surrender the top slice of bread to it?”

They all roar with laughter, then, noticing I am there, begin congratulating me and shaking my hand. A photographer appears out of nowhere and takes a dozen pictures of me with them. And just like that, they all dissolve into the crowd.

Finnick grabs my hand. “Quick! To the buffet before someone else wants pictures!”

He brings me to a table where an Avox is slicing an enormous slab of meat. “I have executively decided that you’ll be eating prime rib tonight.” He turns to the Avox. “Medium rare please, and a medium for Miss Cresta.”

The Avox nods and hands us each a plate with a thick slice of meat and a small bowl of sauce.

“Excellent, thank you!”

We return to the couch. Finnick eats his prime rib at a leisurely pace. I have two bites, then inhale the rest of it.

“What is this?” I say through a mouthful.

“Cow,” Finnick takes a sip of champagne. “I don’t know what they do to it, but it tastes like happiness.”

It is a good thing I eat it quickly, because I have no more than finished when another group of people come over to congratulate me and take pictures. People come and go in a steady stream. I hear dozens of names and promptly forget them all. I drink a glass of champagne and Finnick brings me a second. Some of the people congratulating me are past victors, though I notice that they are not all present. Probably only the best-behaved and best-liked are here. Haymitch Abernathy, for instance, is not among them, but Megary Fallon is on the arm of a Capitol socialite I think I recognize as one of my father’s investors. Augustus Braun shakes my hand in passing.

And then a rather short, quiet man approaches during a pause in my stream of visitors. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. I stare at him for several seconds before I realize it is Alvan. The realization must show on my face because he smiles a little, then shakes my hand. His hands are rough and calloused. He must have rejected an easy life in Ten’s Victor’s Village and opted instead to keep working. I can’t blame him—that’s my plan too.

But he doesn’t congratulate me. Instead, he says, quietly, “I am so sorry. I know this won’t help, but I promise, it’s better it happened that way.”

“Thank you.” I feel a bond with this man, perhaps the only victor who really understands my pain. I should say something else, but nothing comes to mind.

“’N’ thanks for takin’ care’a Merritt ’n’ Elsie.”

“I think they took care of me more than anything.”

He smiles. “That’s what friends’re for. Take care, Annie.” And he leaves, disappearing into the crowd.

The Preps materialize at my elbow. “We have to get a picture of the whole team!” Prep 1 says. “And we’ve got everyone here!”

The photographer has to organize us because they want me in the middle, but I am too tall to be in front of everyone, and Mags and Casca are too short to be behind anyone, and the Preps are so excited they can barely control themselves. Eventually, we get several pictures. Finnick snags the photographer before she can wander off and asks for one of himself, Mags, and me.

After that, we have a few moments of peace. Finnick takes me out for a dance. This is infinitely better than my waltz with Snow for two reasons. Whatever it is, this is much more like the kind of dancing we have in Four, and Finnick makes no threats upon my loved ones. Always a bonus.

When the next song starts, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Gloss is smiling pleasantly. He looks right at home at this, the most exclusive and expensive of parties.

“You want to dance with Finnick?” I shrug. “Alright, but I don’t know how you’re going to decide who leads.”

Finnick snorts and rolls his eyes, passing my hand to Gloss.

Gloss is also a better partner than Snow, but again, the bar is low.

“So, how are you liking your new status?” He whirls me around the floor.

“I think I’m going to have to take dancing lessons if this is what life will be like from now on.” My ankle twists on a sidestep and I desperately and shamelessly catch myself on his shoulders. “Especially if they make me wear heels every time.”

He laughs, holding me up until I can get the heel of the shoe back under my foot. “You’ll learn fast. And you’re not bad.” He smiles, mischief flickering in his eyes. “Just take a smaller step this time.”

We sidestep and turn perfectly and I snort.

“What?”

“My dad always told me I either needed to wear heels or remember to take small steps when dancing because my legs are long and people can’t keep up with my strides. Little did he know I apparently have to do both.”

“Your dad taught you how to dance?”

“Yeah, he and Mom loved to dance. I remember them dancing in the living room. Then after she got sick they did it less and less, and after she died it was a long time before Dad started again…” I trail off, lost in thought. As we whirl around, I catch sight of a woman who looks a little like my mother. I wonder if my father still catches himself waiting for her to come home from work sometimes, just out of habit. I wonder if I will spend the rest of my life doing that with Mako…

“Annie?”

“Yeah?” I jerk back to reality. “I was just… lost in thought.”

He smiles sarcastically. “Ah, victor’s remorse. One of many prizes they don’t tell you about until after you win. Another fantastic gift from our… wonderful government. And then they wonder why everyone comes out weird. Cashmere still sleeps with a knife under her pillow. And there’s that pair of morphling addicts from Six. Haymitch and Chaff are going to drink themselves to death someday. Megary,” he snorts, “she’s got a whole different kind of addiction.” Gloss looks right into my eyes. “And now you get to find yourself one too.”

“What’s yours?”

He smiles, then looks over my shoulder and says, “We’re being summoned.”

We waltz our way back to my team’s couch.

“Busy later?” I ask as we near our destination.

He sighs a little. “I have a previous engagement. Next time?”

“Don’t make me promises you won’t keep.”

Gloss smiles again as he deposits me next to Finnick, then kisses my hand. “Always a pleasure, Annie.” He melts back into the crowd.

“Annie,” Finnick says, snapping me to the task at hand. He gestures at the pepper-gray-haired man and the curly-haired little girl next to him who looks maybe five or six. “This is Titus Vickers and his daughter, Cassia. And you two know Annie, I’m sure.”

Titus Vickers shakes my hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard it a lot tonight, but congratulations. We were betting on you from the beginning.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. And then it clicks. “And thanks for the iodine and the water.”

Titus smiles. “I just sent the iodine. Cassia here wanted to send water. Spent her own allowance on it too.” He looks down at her affectionately.

I kneel down in front of Cassia, who has suddenly become shy and is hiding her face in Titus’s leg. “Thank you for the water,” I smile. “It saved my life.”

She looks at me intently. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

I nod. “I was. And you helped me keep going.”

She smiles. “Your dresses are beautiful.”

“Oh thank you! This is my favorite color.”

“Mine’s green.”

“That’s a very good color.”

“Cassia, darling,” Titus says, “You’d better show her your necklace too.”

“Oh yes!” She holds her necklace out toward me. It is a single seashell. “I love yours. Daddy gave me this one so I could dress like you.”

“It’s beautiful,” I smile.

“Yes,” Titus says, “Cassia wanted to sponsor you from the beginning. You won her over with just your reaping outfit. She wouldn’t stop talking about Annie from Four. And then when your scores came out, you caught my attention too. I told Finnick and Mags to ask if you ever needed anything, and they came when you and Mako started getting low on water tablets.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Sorry to say I had to think about it for a few days. Everything was so expensive this year, and water most of all. But Cassia wouldn’t stand for it. She talked me around. And then when you were by yourself at the end, she just knew you were thirsty.”

“I called all by myself!” Cassia pipes in.

Finnick laughs. “That she did! Called me herself and said you needed water and she was going to send you some and how much money did she need to give me.”

“And that afternoon we went to the control center and sent the water, all paid for by Miss Cassia here,” Titus pats her head and she beams up at all of us.

“Well thank you again,” I say. “That water is the reason I won.”

Cassia’s smile is enormous. “Can- can I give you a hug?”

“Of course!” I kneel down again and she throws her arms around my shoulders.

I wrap an arm around her as well, and then Finnick says, “We’d better get a picture, hadn’t we?”

Titus flags down one of the photographers, who takes a few pictures of Cassia and me hugging, then Titus picks Cassia up and holds her on his hip for a picture with me, and then Mags and Finnick step in for one as well.

Titus thanks the photographer, then passes him some money. “Send me all of those.”

“Of course, Mr. Vickers,” the photographer says, pocketing the money.

“Daddy, can I go get some cake?” Cassia says.

“Of course, darling. Will you bring some for everyone?”

Cassia nods eagerly. “Raspberry for you, and-” she turns to me. “What kind of cake do you want?”

I hadn’t considered this before. And I have no idea what kinds there are. “You pick for me,” I say. “I bet you’re really good at picking the best kinds of cake.”

She smiles. “I am. For you?” She looks at Mags, who answers, but from Cassia’s face she can’t understand Mags’s speech and is too embarrassed to ask.

“Mags wants raspberry as well,” I say.

Cassia nods and looks up at Finnick, who leans down and says conspiratorially, “Do they have the vanilla with the sugar roses?”

Cassia bursts into a broad grin and nods. “I saw it when we came in. It’s beautiful.”

“I want a corner piece, with a big sugar rose. Or two, if you can find a piece with two.”

Cassia nods again, then hurries away through the crowd toward the cake table.

Titus smiles after her as I stand up. “Shall we sit?” he says.

We all sit down on the two couches on either side of the coffee table. An Avox with a tray of champagne walks by, and Titus waves him over to take a glass. Finnick takes two and hands me one of them. Mags politely declines.

Casca hurries up to Mags and says something about some friends from the old industrial district and points to a sofa across the way. Mags waves at its occupants and tells Casca she will join them as soon as her cake returns. He hurries off.

Cassia arrives just then, carrying exactly one piece of cake. She is followed closely by an Avox carrying a tray with half a dozen more plates. He sets the tray on the coffee table. Cassia thanks him, then hands me the cake she was carrying. It is orangish-brown, with bits of bright orange, and cream-colored frosting. I try not to look too confused. She takes a piece of chocolate cake with raspberry filling and hands it to Mags, who smiles as she takes a bite and nods gratefully before standing and leaving to join her other friends. Cassia gives Titus a similar piece, then hands Finnick a large piece of white cake with white frosting decorated in colorful and ornate sugar roses. Finally, she takes a piece that looks like the one I have. There are still two more pieces of cake on the tray, one chocolate and raspberry and one with sugar roses.

Cassia sits next to me and whispers, “I thought you might want to try all of them.”

I smile.

As Finnick and Titus talk about the ins and outs of sponsorship and pricing, I take a bite of the weird orange cake. Thankfully, it tastes much better than it looks. In fact, it is delicious.

“What kind of cake is this?” I ask Cassia after my third bite.

“Carrot,” she says.

“Carrot?” That can’t be right.

But Cassia nods. “It’s my favorite kind.”

“It doesn’t taste like carrots,” I say. I don’t understand this cake, but it is scrumptious.

“No. They’re just so it doesn’t get dry.”

I finish the carrot cake and move on to the chocolate and raspberry. Thankfully, Cassia got two very small pieces of the other cakes, because I would not be able to eat three full-size pieces. As I start the sugar rose cake, I glance over at Finnick. He started with three sugar roses and has carefully pulled two off the cake and set them on the edge of his plate while he eats everything else. He must be saving them for last. I have no such self-control. I eat the sugar rose on my piece first. It dissolves gloriously in my mouth. The cake itself is delicious as well, but nothing compared to the colorful delight that was the rose.

“Very good,” Titus says as he finishes his cake. “Cassia darling, thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Finnick says. He still has the two roses on his plate.

I swallow the last mouthful of cake, nodding.

“You’re welcome,” Cassia smiles. “Which one was your favorite?”

“The carrot. It surprised me, but it was so tasty! Thank you for picking it for me.”

She hugs me again.

Titus glances at his watch. “Well, Miss Cassia, it’s nearly your bedtime. We’d best get home, don’t you think?”

She shakes her head but waves goodbye to me. Titus shakes hands with Finnick then me, congratulates me again, then picks Cassia up and makes his way to the door.

Finnick sets one of his sugar roses on my empty plate. “Thought you might like another one.”

I smile, determined to savor this one more than the first, but it too melts in my mouth and is gone in a flash of deliciousness. “I can’t imagine what the poor person in charge of my food rations is going through right now.”

He leans in as if he is going to share the darkest secret in Panem, then says, “He told me you could eat whatever here, as long as you only had two full plates total. You had a plate of prime rib, that’s one, and all three pieces of cake could have fit on one plate, so that’s two in my book.”

I laugh. “Nobody ever told me you were this good at toeing the line. And what about all the champagne?”

“How much have you had?”

I shrug. “Four or five?”

“That’s probably enough.” He reaches for the glass I am holding, but I lean back and hold it out of his reach.

“This is my party, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you turning into Haymitch.”

I snort. “I won’t.”

“That’s the last one. I’m cutting you off after this.”

“You suck all the joy out of life.”

Around us, the party is slowing down. Finnick takes me for one last dance. When the song ends, there are perhaps twenty people still in the room.

Finnick keeps me in his arms for just a second after the band finishes. Then he takes a deep breath and says, “I’ve got to go talk to them for a while. I’ll see you later.” He heads over to a small group standing next to the cake table.

Mags comes to collect me, saying Finnick has a prior engagement but will meet us back at the Tribute Center later.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We go back to the car with Casca and are deposited at the Tribute Center. The atmosphere inside is strange. It is oddly more loud without the twenty-three other tributes. The mentors, who all stay here until the end of the closing ceremonies and parties, whether their tributes won or not, and the other victors from years past who stay in the Victor Center during the Games, mill around on the ground floor, talking and laughing over tables of food and drinks that have been set out since the recap.

Everyone we pass near stops to congratulate me. Haymitch Abernathy is drinking and talking to a man with only one arm, but actually puts his drink down to shake my hand. The woman with them gives me a quick hug and whispers that she is sorry about Mako. Cashmere, who was at the banquet and is now already on her way back out of the Tribute Center, smiles at me. Even Megary Fallon gives me a respectful nod as we near the elevator.

On the fourth floor, Mags gestures to the TV, the table full of snacks (complete with a written guide of what, how much, and how often I am allowed to eat), and the hallway leading to the bedrooms, then gives me a quizzical look.

“I think I’m just going to bed, unless you want to stay up?”

She shakes her head, and we part ways at her bedroom door. I am two rooms down, at the end of the hallway.

Once in my room, I turn the window screen on. I flick through until I find the meadow the woman in the lab coat told me about and sit on my bed, listening to the birds sing. After a while, I undress and shower, then wrap myself in one of the incredibly soft and fluffy bathrobes in the closet. I curl up on the bed and listen to the music of the birds and the whisper of the wind in the grass, but sleep does not come.

Finally, I get up. Maybe a snack will help. I wander out to the snack table and check my nutritional guidelines (labelled “Snacking after the Victory Banquet”). I am only allowed half a cinnamon roll, so I move on down the list, finally settling on two seaweed rolls (with butter!).

I am putting them on a plate when a voice from the sofa says, “I won’t tell anyone if you take extra.”

I jump, nearly dropping my plate and precious rolls. When I turn, I see Finnick sitting upside-down on the sofa, legs hanging over the back, shoulders on the seat, head hanging off the edge. He looks half-asleep.

“Did you just get back?” I say, taking half a cinnamon roll as well.

“A while ago. Didn’t want to go to bed, don’t really want to stay up either.”

“Where were you? Capitol throw you some special victor’s mentor after-party?” I sit cross-legged on the other end of the sofa.

He sighs. He seems tired. Not the kind of tired that comes when you don’t get enough sleep, but the kind that comes when life has worn you down day after day. “No, just out… enjoying the perks of being me.”

“Kind of rude to not even stay until morning, isn’t it?” I finish the first seaweed roll and start on the cinnamon roll.

He shoots me a funny look. “You are… smart enough to get yourself in trouble someday, you know that?”

“I do,” I say through a mouthful of cinnamon-y deliciousness.

“As long as you’re aware.” He lifts his head up to actually look at me. “You know this is your window with Gloss, right? It’s tonight or wait until this time next year.”

I smile. “He said he had a previous engagement.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s back by now,” Finnick says, letting his head fall back down.

“I’m not sure that would be the best idea anyway. Wouldn’t be worth it, really, would it? And this way I can always cherish that one kiss, and forever brag that I was the girl who caught his eye but wouldn’t give in to temptation.”

Finnick snorts. “Not exactly something they laud you for in the Capitol, but the people at home will definitely appreciate it. Though the Capitol keeps Tribute Center happenings very hush-hush. Once the tributes are out, we pretty much have free reign. So they’d never know at home.” He grins. “Unless I told them.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure they’d believe you, but you’re welcome to try.”

He rolls his eyes. “Go to bed.”

“Can’t sleep. That’s why I’m out here.”

“Well I’m going to bed. I guess you’re free to do as you choose.” He curls his knees to his chest and does a backwards somersault off the couch, rolling onto his feet. He gives me a small bow and says, “Good night. See you in the morning for your big interview.”

I follow him into the hallway, where he takes the first door. I walk to the next room and knock softly. Mags opens the door surprisingly quickly, smiling at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t sleep.”

She nods.

“Can I just… sit with you?”

She nods again and gestures me inside and closes the door behind me. Then she goes to the bed, fluffs one of the pillows, and pulls the blankets back. “For you,” she says.

“Oh no, I just-” but she shoos me to the bed and pushes me onto it, then forcefully tucks me in like a small child. Mags walks to the other side of the bed and sits next to me, stroking my hair and humming a very old sailors’ song that my dad whistles all the time. It’s about men saying goodbye to girls they’ve met in a far-off land because they have to sail home in the morning. I don’t know where any of the places they’re talking about are, or if they’re even real, but I’ve always imagined that Spain is sunny and warm. I close my eyes, imagining the sailors leaning over the railing on their ship, calling farewell to their lovers as warm sunshine bathes everything in sight.

****

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Fear of the Water - Ch. 7

AO3 LINK

Annie + Finnick Origin Story set during/after 70th Hunger Games

masterlist

(ANNIE)

It’s almost impossible to sleep. Not that I normally sleep well anyway. Still.

I have one of those dreams that’s only two minutes long but actually lasts for an hour or two in real life. Finnick’s in it. He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t even look at me. He’s just there. And it’s nice in the dream but it’s sad when I wake up.

I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. Keep moving? Stay put? I unpack my things and lay them out again. I get one deep sip of water cause I have to be careful about saving it until I find a source (maybe that’s what I’ll do today) and I eat one slice of dried apple. And then I notice the dirt and the blood under my fingernails and my hands start shaking.

My mother, she butchered me . . .

Shut my eyes. Don’t want to see the blood, see the boy exploding, feel hot drops of blood splatter against my face. Take deep breaths through my mouth to keep from gagging.

It’s a long time before I feel okay again. I’m just opening my eyes when a cannon goes off. I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

I count the bricks in my little cave to calm down again but I keep losing my place and have to start over.

I don’t think I’ll finish counting before the sun goes down. I’ll have to wait to look for food and water tomorrow.

(FINNICK)

My patron last night bought me and Cashmere as a set; I think it’s easier to deal with when there’s another victor with you. Misery loves company, as they say. But it’s also fucking awkward. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive to buy a night with one victor, so buying two on the same night practically never happens.

We stay in the lady’s apartment long enough to see our tributes onscreen and make sure they’re still alive before making our way back toward the training center. Shine, Cash, and Piers are sorting out supplies and making a plan of attack. Annie is nibbling at some dried fruit.

We stop off at a coffee place on the way.

“That lady was disgusting,” Cashmere says as we wait for our orders. She pulls two blackberry-flavored cigarettes and some matches out of a pocket I didn’t know she had and lights them.

“Mm,” I hum in acknowledgement. She really was gross but I don’t waste my time thinking about her and what she wanted. I never do. When it’s over, it’s over, and there’s no point in reflecting on the experience.

Cashmere hands me one of the cigarettes. “Thanks,” I say. We smoke silently for a little while, watching all the Capitol citizens walk by. Girls giggle when they see me; men wink at Cashmere. It’s nothing new. “Who’s your favorite to win?”

She taps the excess ash from her cigarette on the ground. “I like my girl’s chances. But that pretty one from District Nine is one to watch. You?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

This is what conversations are like the day after you see a patron together. You’re too embarrassed about everything we did to look each other in the eye but we can’t ignore each other without being crushed by the silence. Plus, we have to look fun and flirty for the people that walk by.

My awful attempt at small talk is interrupted when a female tribute gets stuck under falling bricks from a decrepit building nearby. Her lower leg breaks with a loud snap as a particularly jagged stone lands on her shin. She barely has a chance to scream before a larger rock rolls onto her stomach and starts to crush her. It takes about a minute for her to die.

“That’s thirteen gone,” Cashmere says absently. “Eleven to go.”

The Avoxes are the only ones in the common area when I get back to the training center. They’re cleaning puke up off the rug; I assume it’s Broadsea’s.

“Did I miss anything important?” I ask, nodding at the television. There’s nothing interesting going on right now, so Caesar Flickerman is interviewing a Gamemaker named Seneca Crane about the inspiration behind the arena’s design.

It’s more elaborate than usual this year: it looks like an abandoned city that nature has reclaimed. It rains perpetually, and no place is completely dry. There are a handful of high dams, but in heavy rain they overflow somewhat. There’s nowhere to swim, so Annie and Piers don’t have any advantage there.

Somes points at the chalkboard; Girl 10 has been crossed off the list. Greer makes a few gestures to let me know that both Annie and Piers are still alive.

“Thanks.”

I sit down on the shower floor like I always do and lean my head back against the wall.

My arena was a heavy forest dotted with swamps.

There was this endless chorus of crickets and cicadas – it never stopped. Not to mention all the other damn bugs that would fly right into my eye or buzz around in my ear. All the bugs bit, but some of them carried diseases. Tributes bitten by the disease-bugs got sick and a few of them died.

There were these mutts in some of the swamps – gators, I think they’re called – that would come out of the water at night and attack. One of them killed Tethys, my district partner. It took her foot first. I couldn’t get to her in time to stop the bleeding or distract the mutt before it circled back for her. It took a while for the gator to kill her, but I doubt she could feel anything except the cold, dry sensation of losing blood.

Most of the water was unsafe to drink, and a good amount of the tributes died from dehydration or infections they got from drinking the bad water. The Careers and I were sure to boil our water to kill any germs. We didn’t have to worry about whether or not someone would see our fire – no one in their right mind would attack the Career pack.

And then one day at breakfast this enormous parachute came floating down from the sky and landed in front of me. A trident.

I knew in that moment that I would survive. I could use spears and knives as well as anybody, but I grew up with a trident in my hand. I knew I had lots of sponsors – they sent medicine when I was injured, fresh bread when I was hungry, even a sliver of soap to wash myself off – but this told me just how many there really were. But a trident?! Weapons of any kind were unheard of, but this?

It took two days for my allies to turn on me. They didn’t consider me much of a threat at first, since I was only fourteen and no one under sixteen, no matter how skilled or sponsored, had ever won. I defeated them allies fairly easily; I’d been expecting an attack and I knew what their fighting styles were. It only took another two days to find the remaining tributes and kill them.

I had it easy compared to some of the others. Most of the others, actually. I considered myself lucky for the first few days after I won. Thank God I didn’t have to deal with some of the shit the others had to. It evened out in the end, more or less.

Caesar Flickerman is talking as I exit the bathroom. Something menial. “Is she counting?”

“It looks like it,” Claudius Templesmith replies. “But I’m not sure why.”

I start rifling through the clothes in my closet.

“She’s most likely in shock,” Caesar says. “It happens from time to time.”

I don’t really pay attention – why should I? – until I catch a glimpse of Annie Cresta from the corner of my eye. It’s only for a millisecond; the feed switches to more entertaining footage of the boy from District 6 climbing to the top of a massive barebones building at least eight stories high.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.

Tributes go into shock pretty regularly; someone cracks up at least once every other year. I’m not surprised that it happened. But it bothers me that it happened to Annie. She was a bit weird to begin with, so I shouldn’t be shocked, but it’s still unpleasant.

Shit.

Piers probably should have killed her at the bloodbath – or at the very least, let the boy from 3 finish the job. The Games have barely started and I’m already so tired; I don’t know if I have it in me to watch Annie get herself killed in some awful way.

I avoid Mags for most of the day because I just don’t want to face her right now.

I eat dinner with Blight and Gloss at a popular restaurant, which we pretty much shut down for the night because so many of my adoring fans would otherwise flood the place. They cluster outside instead; Peacekeepers have to come in to keep them all in line. I’d really rather eat alone in my room but the president likes for his victors to be seen enjoying all the pleasures that the Capitol has to offer. And I hate to admit it but the food is actually good.

Blight brings the new kid with him. Timothy Something-or-other of District 6, victor of the 69th Hunger Games. I feel obligated to make a lot of sex jokes because it’s 69 and I’m the Finnick Odair.

Timothy doesn’t talk very much, nor does he make much eye contact. Blight and Gloss start filling him in on things he doesn’t ask about – the annoying victors, the protocols for being out in public, the politicians and socialites who get handsy when they drink.

“Brutus sucks, Gaius sucks,” Blight says as he pours us each a fresh glass of wine. “They’re both from Two. Actually most of those guys are awful.”

“Broadsea and Eefa fucking suck,” I add.

“And Leetha. Leetha is the goddamn worst,” Gloss says, shaking his head.

Timothy’s voice is scratchy. “Which one is she?”

“The redheaded lady from District Five,” I answer. “Thinks she’s the smartest person in the world. Don’t ever have a conversation alone with her. You’ll try to pull your ears off.”

Timothy swallows hard. He looks twitchy and hungry and tired. Bet he’s already addicted to something – alcohol maybe, or more likely morphling, since that’s the drug of choice for his fellow victors from 6.

The rest of dinner passes without anybody saying anything interesting. I trudge back to the training center and pray Mags has gone to bed already. I just don’t want to see her.

No such luck. She’s sitting on the couch facing the television when I come in. She smiles. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I mutter. She pats the seat beside her, silently asking me to sit with her. But I don’t want to I stand by the couch with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes pointed straight ahead.

Then she asks the question I’ve been dreading all afternoon. “Have you seen Annie?”

“Yeah.

We watch the Games in silence for a long time. There’s nothing going on this late; most of the tributes have gone to sleep. But I keep watching.

“What do you think?” Mags finally asks.

“I don’t think anything.” I try not to be snappy but it still comes out with some aggression. She must know I don’t want to talk about this. “I’m going to bed.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I leave to show her that I’m not really mad at her. But she knows that already.

“Good night, Finnick.”

“Good night, Mags.”

I don’t have any dreams tonight.

[creamytinydays]

One Night - Part Two

This is part two to my drabble “One Night,” which I wrote approximately forever ago.

@butrfac14, you are amazing. Thank you for betaing on short notice! Thanks to @dandeliononfire for the prompt, and to @lovely-tothe-bone for asking for more :)

[The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Photo by Matthijs Smit on Unsplash]. 

The scent of freshly ground coffee lures Katniss downstairs the next morning. She stumbles by the campers chatting in the kitchen and heads straight for the coffee maker. A summer breeze floats in through the open glass doors, along with the sounds of laughter.

She can’t help but scan the faces of the campers for the man from last night. The fact that she’s not even sure of the color of his hair isn’t lost on her.

Katniss pours herself a large cup of coffee and is stirring in sugar when she spots a man leaning against a wall in the living room. He looks to be about the right height, and she doesn’t realize that she’s staring until he turns to look, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes as he smiles.

“You missed morning meditation again, Katniss!” chirps a voice behind her.

Katniss groans internally. One of the few people she has met is Delly, who looks like the kind of person that hops out of bed at six in the morning and likes it that way. Katniss slowly takes a sip of coffee. She doesn’t tell Delly that you can’t miss something you would never attend in a million years.

“You should join us sometime!” Delly smiles brightly, seemingly undeterred by Katniss’ silence. “Or, how about the singer-songwriter class today? I’m leading it.” Delly glances at her clipboard. “Maybe you’re already signed up?”

“We were supposed to sign up?”

Delly frowns, flipping through the papers. “Looks like most of the classes for today are filled. Didn’t you hear the morning announcements?”

She didn’t know they were supposed to sign up in advance, and now she’ll probably be stuck with some class she isn’t even interested in.

“I wasn’t up,” she mumbles. Despite herself, she peers at the clipboard.

Delly gives her a kind smile. “It’s okay, there’s still a few spots in my class. C’mon, it’s about to start.”

Katniss avoids glancing at the dark-haired man in the living room and follows Delly outside to the wide wooden deck filled with campers. Delly gathers her group and marches them to a meadow in the woods. When they arrive, everyone settles into a circle on the grass.

“I see some new faces, so let’s start with introductions.” Delly smiles as she looks around the circle. “Let’s play Rose and Thorn. Tell me your highlight, or ‘rose’ so far at camp, and then a ‘thorn’, or something that didn’t go so well.” She sits back and nods at the girl next to her.

The introductions take some time, as Delly’s class seems to be popular among the campers. Katniss catches the names of a few of them, such as a shy woman named Annie whose bangs keep falling in her face, and a man named Finnick who launches into a story about skinny dipping in the camp lake.

“Okay!” says Delly, smiling at Finnick, although her pen is tapping furiously against her clipboard. “How about our next camper? Peeta?” She nods at a blond man sitting next to Finnick. Katniss notices the guitar slung behind his back, and the way the sunlight catches his blue eyes as he smiles at the group.

“Sure,” he says. “I guess my ‘thorn’ was getting lost on the way to camp.” A sympathetic groan rises from the campers. “But my ‘rose’ was playing guitar last night.”

Finnick elbows him, grinning. “That’s where you were last night! Who were you with? Marvel?”

“Actually…” Peeta trails off. “This other camper, you don’t know her. But she has this incredible voice.” He addresses the whole circle, and Katniss freezes. His gaze sweeps around the group, and for a moment she’s sure he’s going to recognize her, but he barely glances at her.  

Finnick narrows his sea-green eyes. “And who is this mystery camper?”

Katniss feels too hot as the sun beats down on the back of her neck. Peeta opens his mouth to respond and Katniss wishes she could vanish like the morning mist.

“Let’s move on, guys,” Delly breaks in. “Thanks for sharing, Peeta.”

Katniss exhales, and the anxiety is replaced with anger. Last night was private, she thinks furiously. Who is he to share that with the entire group?

She realizes she’s glaring at Peeta, and she forces her attention back to Delly, determined not to let him get in the way of the morning session.

But as Delly leads the group in a few sing-alongs, Katniss keeps noticing things, like the way Peeta bites his pencil or how his gaze never lands on her for more than a second.

When Delly hands out a stack of papers, Katniss notices hers is marked with a number in red at the top.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to break up into writing teams to collaborate on an original song!” Delly actually claps her hands together, her ponytail bouncing. “If you come up with something good, maybe you could even use it for the talent show on Sunday.”

Katniss can’t remember anything about a talent show, but apparently she’s the only one because two girls next to her start whispering intently.

“Find the person with the same number as your paper, and they’ll be your song partner. Happy writing!”  

Katniss peers at her number as everyone gathers their notebooks and pens. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peeta walk towards her, and she ducks her head but his feet stop right in front of her.

“Hey.” He peers at her paper. “I think we’re partners.” She tries to stifle a sigh, and is met with his confused expression.

“Hi.” She gets to her feet. He smiles politely, and they head to the outskirts of the meadow. When Peeta stops a few feet past the tree line, Katniss keeps going. If she’s going to be stuck with him, she can at least waste some of their time by walking.

“C’mon,” she says gruffly. “A bit further.” She doesn’t hear him following her, and she turns around to see him looking back at the meadow.

“I mean, this way we’re nearby when the class regroups,” he says.

She kicks at a root sticking in the path.

“I don’t want anyone to steal our ideas,” she mumbles.

“I’d rather that than get eaten by a bear,” he responds, throwing her off guard. She raises an eyebrow.

“There aren’t any bears in these woods.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I looked it up before I arrived.” Her sister made her promise not to wander off on hikes in order to avoid the other campers. She’d made the concession of checking for predators first. “And if there was, I’d climb a tree.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. She turns around and marches into the forest, and after a moment she hears his footsteps behind her.

They hike downhill, the summer sun filtering through the trees and dappling the leaves on the forest floor. Katniss spots deer tracks, and wonders if the lake mentioned in the camp brochure is somewhere nearby. After ten minutes she knows they’ve walked much farther than they should, but Peeta doesn’t comment. Birds flit from branch to branch, and Katniss lets the silence soak in before sitting down on a log a little way from the trail.  

Peeta settles on a rock across from her, absentmindedly strumming his guitar. She scans the instructions from Delly, but she can’t concentrate.

“So when you’re not researching bears, what do you do for fun, Katniss?”

She jerks her head up. “Besides singing?” She shrugs. “I do archery at the community college.”

“You shoot? Why didn’t you bring your bow with us?” His hands dance soundlessly over the guitar frets. “Here I was worrying about protecting you from the bears, but all the while you could be the one protecting us!” He shakes his head.

“There’s no bears out here, seriously -” she starts, but a smile steals onto her face at his mock exasperation. She stares down at her paper.

“An hour to write a song doesn’t seem like much,” Katniss grumbles.

“Finnick says he’s just going to use one he already wrote,” Peeta says. He looks up hopefully at her. “Do you have any originals?”

“No.” She folds the paper in her hands.

He clears his throat, strumming a chord. “Katniss isn’t afraid of bears; she’ll climb a tree to get away…” he sings. He looks at her expectantly. “Now think of something that rhymes.”

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters. He’s just looking at her, so she sighs and tries to think of something.

“If I lose Peeta in these woods, it’ll really ruin his day,” she sings.

The smile slips off his face.

“What?” She scowls. “Your line wasn’t great either.”

“You’re the girl,” he says, a blush blooming at the collar of his t-shirt. “You sang with me last night!”

She picks up a twig, twirling it in her fingers.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” His blush is creeping up his neck to his jaw.

“When was I supposed to say something? When you were announcing it to the entire world?” She glares at him. “What was I supposed to say? Oh hi, I’m the girl with the incredible voice?”

“I don’t think I said ‘incredible,” he counters.

She raises an eyebrow. “I was there, remember?”

“Is that why you’ve been mad at me this whole time?” He leans forward. “Because of my ‘rose’ story?”

She crosses her arms. She doesn’t know why she feels so possessive over that space of time where it was only melody and stars and the cool of the night.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think; I didn’t even know if I was going to see you again. I just…” He looks up at the trees above them, and a breeze rustles through the branches.

“What?” She says despite herself, when the silence stretches thin. He takes a deep breath and looks right at her, and she wants to look away but she doesn’t.

“I just told the truth. That’s how I feel. Playing guitar while you sang was the best part of camp so far.” He smiles wryly. “Sorry.”

He does look sorry. She pulls a loose thread from her shirt.

“Ok,” she manages. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe we should start over.” He leans back against a redwood tree, the color of the bark contrasting with the blue of his shirt. “How do you like camp so far?”

“It’s great,” she says, proud that she doesn’t sound as unenthusiastic as she feels.

“Really?” he says. “I was a little apprehensive at first. Still am, I guess.”

She can’t figure that out. He’s gorgeous and plays guitar like a god. Why would he be apprehensive?

“You don’t seem like it,” she says.

He shrugs and looks down.

“It’s just – this whole talent show idea, with everyone having to perform. Doesn’t it seem like a bit much?” He pushes a hand through his hair.    

“It’s music camp.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ll go up on stage and have everyone crying with your incredible vocals.”

“What about you? You’re amazing at guitar.” She’s pretty sure she has the onstage presence of a banana slug, while he looks like the lead singer of a boy band.

He laughs dryly. “Thanks, I guess. But do you want to know a secret?” He shoves his guitar behind him so it peeks over his shoulder, and he leans forward, carefully placing his forearms on his knees before looking up at her. “I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“What?” She crosses her arms. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“What about your music teacher?”

“What music teacher? I learned how to play from YouTube.” She stares at him.

“And your roommates?” she asks.

“I live by myself. Seriously,” he says, “the only person that’s heard me play is right here.”

His full attention is on her, his eyes a bright blue in the filtered forest light. She’s been singing since she was a child, and has sung in so many music assemblies and concerts over the years that she can’t remember a time when no one had heard her before.

She thinks it’s brave, showing up to camp, to play guitar with a group of strangers. But she can’t seem to say it, not when the morning light is caught in his hair like strands of gold. She curls her fingers into the moss on the log next to her.

“Don’t worry about the talent show,” she says gruffly. “You’ll be fine.”

Peeta’s already looked down, his attention on the instructions.

“Should we get started, then?” he asks.

As the morning melts away, Peeta plays guitar softly, coaxing her into writing another verse. Katniss watches the light change as the sun ascends, and at noon she leads Peeta back to the meadow.

[softpeetabread]

University Life part 3

I’m so flattered by the positive reception to this au and the comments I received have encouraged me to continue. Thank you to everyone that’s taken the time to read this little tale. I have more in store and here is but a piece, which I hope can suffice until my next update. Enjoy!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Katniss  had  to give Peeta credit for making it till the end of the day to crash and fall asleep, or at least until they made it back to his apartment. He didn’t even reach his bed and opted for the living room couch, even if it was probably uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she found a blanket in his room and covered him with it.

She had been at his apartment plenty of times to know where to find things. She prepared a mug with a teabag for when he’d wake up and started on dinner for them. They usually worked together to make meals, but Peeta needed his sleep and she would not disturb him just so they could cook.

Finnick came into the apartment some time later, a tired expression on his face. He’d probably had a long day as well.

“Did you replace my roommate?” Despite his exhaustion, he still managed to give her a mischievous smile.

“Please, you would be the one Peeta would replace,” she answered, her own playful smile on her lips.

“You’re like his mother. Look at you: making him food while he sleeps.”

Katniss shrugged. “Don’t be jealous just because this isn’t for you.”

After spending so much time with Finnick and Johanna thanks to Peeta, she had gotten up to speed with their jokes and jabs. Had she been a new friend and used that response she would have felt like she was being unnecessarily mean and biting. However, she knew her answer wouldn’t hurt Finnick since they tended to say worse things to one another. Katniss had simply adjusted and learnt from them all. Sometimes, harsh comments would get thrown around and Peeta would step in to defend her from his friends, but she wasn’t bothered because she knew she could hurt them with her words if she wanted to. There was a difference between being defensive and playing along.

By the time she finished cooking, Finnick had left to meet Annie at her apartment, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone once again. She heard Peeta yawn as he sat up.

“What a coincidence that you wake up just as I’m about to serve us dinner,” she said with a smirk.

“My stomach can sense quality food from a mile away,” Peeta answered, stretching his back. “What’d you make?”

“Your favorite: stew.” Katniss brought the pot to the table carefully, setting it on the center where the heat mat rested.

“I think you mean that’s your favorite,” he chuckled and got up to help Katniss set the table. “I’ll eat anything you make, though.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

Peeta pretended to be pensive about it. “Well, I could order something, but then I’d be wasting some good stew. And then, I’d get a long lecture from you about how awful it is to waste food. And then, you’d remind me of how long it took you to make it. I’ll save myself all that trouble.”

Katniss couldn’t help but laugh. Was she that predictable? “You are not only smart, but you are a wise man, Peeta.”

“I’ve learnt that I have to keep a woman happy or else I’d be facing her wrath,” Peeta shrugged.

“Don’t tell me your priority is to keep me happy,” Katniss said with mock sarcasm.

“Then, I won’t tell you.” He brought the plates to the table and Katniss served them dinner. “I do admit I have my priorities straight. It just so happens that one of them is to make someone happy.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that as she wasn’t sure who he was really referring to. “That person is very lucky… Now hurry up and eat your stew while it’s hot.”

“I could just heat it up!”

“It won’t taste the same!”

Peeta rested his face on his hand as he looked at her, laughing with amusement at their exchange. “There’s no winning with you.”

“You should know that by now.”

Putting his wisdom to use, Peeta kept quiet save for the chuckles he couldn’t help holding back, which made Katniss look away from him else she risked choking on her food. She had never laughed so much in her life, from what she remembered, until she got to know Peeta and now she couldn’t stop. The real winner was him because he got the last laugh out of her.

Gray eyes scanned the bottom of the pool until they located the colorful rings that had been arrayed in a line, each far enough for a challenge. There was a liberating feeling about swimming that Katniss loved and when she found out the gym had a pool—a bigger one than the one at the apartment complex—she was thrilled and couldn’t wait to jump in. She was practicing on reaching the bottom, which was the one skill she struggled with. Her dives were decent, her speed allowed her to reach the other end of the pool in about four breaths, and her strokes let her gracefully swim across without stopping. After doing this for years, it felt like a reward rather than a work out. It definitely felt like a cool down what with her being in the water, but her muscles still ached and she was more than sure that she would be sore the following day.

Peeta and her worked out together by running and he had showed her how to work some of the machines that appealed to her, but there were exercises in which they did alone. He did weights and boxing while she swam. If one of them finished early, they would wait for the other until they were done so they could leave together. She thought it was a good thing they didn’t depend on each other for all of their exercise routines and gave each other some space, too. Peeta had mentioned he only knew the basics for swimming like floating and not drowning, so Katniss didn’t insist on him to join her. She did offer to teach him and he agreed to it when their exams week would pass.

Katniss pushed through the water to swim downward and reached for a ring, lacing it around her arm as she reached for the next one. She managed to take three from the floor before she floated back up and took a deep breath, feeling how her chest ached and her lungs screamed. They didn’t look like much but pushing herself on the deep end of the pool took the most energy from her. Taking the rings was the easy part. She went back to get the remaining three after taking a few breaths and decided to call it a day.

She spotted Peeta sitting next to her things with a sketch book in hand. Katniss wondered how he had the ability to draw without difficulty, and it made sense to her why he would choose a career like architecture. Although, he could have also succeeded as a painter. She had been in awe at the canvases he showed her that were in his room, full of vivid colors and beautiful scenery. She walked towards him, wondering what it was that he was doodling.

“Drawing people swimming?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“More or less,” Peeta answered with a shrug before putting his pencil down and closing his sketchbook. Only he found a way to carry that in his gym bag. ‘In case I felt inspired’, he had said to her once.

“May I see it when you finish?”

“I can show you right now, if you want.”

It must please Peeta that Katniss showed interest in his sketches, or at least that’s what it looked like to her. Not that there was anything wrong with that. If anything, she gave him encouragement and she admitted he looked adorable when he got enthusiastic. He flipped to the current page he was working on as she sat beside him, a towel wrapped around her to keep from getting water everywhere.

It was a rough sketch, but she could make out the figure of a girl standing along the edge of the pool and what looked like a braid that swayed to the side, as if she had shaken her head to get water off her hair. Her mouth hung open slightly as she realized Peeta had started to sketch her.

“I think your drawing looks way better than I do in real life,” she said, a playful smile on her lips.

“Hardly. I’m afraid about not being able to do you justice.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, even if it was flattering to be Peeta’s muse for one sketch.

“You could draw me as a fish and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

It was Peeta’s turn to raise an eyebrow at her. “I think I’ll draw your gills on your throat.”

“Don’t forget a fin on my back,” she added. “Make me look scary.”

Peeta put the notebook away as he spoke. “For me to do that, you would have to already be scary-looking, which you’re not.”

Katniss gave him a scowl, trying to prove her point that she was, in fact, as frightening as she claimed to be.

“Wow, you certainly terrified me,” Peeta said dryly.

“Good because I could be your worst nightmare.”

“Katniss, you’re as terrifying as a new born kitten.”

With the strap of her gym bag on her shoulder, Katniss began to walk away from the pool with Peeta beside her. “Just because I’m not as tall as you are doesn’t mean I can’t still scare the shit out of you.”

“I doubt it but keep telling yourself that.”

As she showered, she replayed Peeta’s words in her head and she somehow felt a bit bothered by the fact that he didn’t find her intimidating. She’d show him one day he should be scared of her. He may have been bigger than her in height and size, but he was an even bigger softy. She let it go after a while and breathed out, thinking about his sketch.

Why would he decide to draw her, of all people, anyway? She probably looked like a feral animal if anything, not some attractive swimmer like Annie or Finnick. Maybe Peeta would make her look pretty. He had such a talent for making even the most mundane things look amazing when his fingers created his artwork.

I admit this started off as a short story, but then it grew as I kept writing and I want to write as much as I can about the relationship between these two. I love banter, flirting, and flirtatious banter, so I hope I did something right here. Maybe this feels like these two instances aren’t related, but believe me, I’m following a sort of timeline. This matters to their story. I am open to suggestions about this au if anyone has any ideas they’d like to share with me! Whether it’s for their friendship or when they are dating (I promise, they will get together, just not today *winks*). Let me know what you think. I will update soon!

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Fourteen (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 3.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You sit on the edge of Finnick’s bed, watching as he plays around with a rope. He’ll untie it and retie it into knots to keep himself entertained. Here, in District Thirteen, it feels like almost nothing happens. Especially when you’ve been sitting in a bed for a while.

You had thrown a whole bitching fit when they tried to take Finnick away from you. Put you in a different room away from where he was. You told them that they couldn’t do that, and made sure that the message was very thorough. You respect, and you’re very thankful for them saving you from the arena, but Finnick is all you have right now.

You don’t have your two brothers, you don’t have your sister. Finnick is your only lifeline right now, as you think about the endless possibilities that could be going on with your family. Because Snow had taken one nice stop in District Four and with one foul scoop, took your siblings and Annie right the fuck out of there.

You have no clue what’s happening to them right now.

You told the doctors that you wouldn’t be difficult if they at least accepted your plans. That you want to be put in the same room as Finnick, and you don’t want to be hooked up to any machines if it’s possible. It’s not like you’re dying, and there’s nothing inside of you right now that would hinder your abilities to do anything.

You have a few cuts here and there on your body from running through the jungle, and from tripping and accidentally cutting yourself and so on. But those aren’t important. You understand that they want to double check on your body because of the poisonous white fog you had encountered.

As far as you’re concerned, though. If it isn’t broken, don’t try and fix it. You’re running just fine. You can breathe, your heart still pumps, and you’re taking down food like a champ. So far, you body hasn’t even shown a hint of trying to end itself, and that’s why you think the doctors shouldn’t try and experiment, unless they know that they’re doing.

Because all it would take is one damn screw up. A little experiment of seeing if they can draw it out of your bodies and all they do is end up making it worse. Your liver can handle it, if it’s handled all the other shit that you’ve put in your body, then you’ll be fine. And it’s not like you guys hadn’t gone ahead and washed it off when you could.

Regardless, you promised to try your best and be cooperative as long as you got what you wanted, in a sense. So you took the cream that they wanted you to spread on the areas that had been affected by the fog, and moved right along. They had decided to bring you to him, since he wasn’t resisting treatment.

You twist your wedding ring, trying to keep your hands from shaking.

“Finnick.”

You look over to where the voice had come, and there stands Katniss. She had to have just woken up, because you haven’t heard a word come from her room, which is literally next door. She looks angry, and she alternates between glaring at you, and Finnick.

It’s quiet between you three for a moment, before Finnick answers, “I wanted to go back for Peeta, and Johanna. But I–I couldn’t move.”

You keep quiet, staring at the floor slightly. There wasn’t much you could do in that situation either. You were just barely able to drag yourself onto Finnick. Then again, she could always be mad about what came after. When she had woken up inside of the hovercraft and tried to stab Haymitch with a needle.

She has all the right to be angry. You guys more or less directly defied what she had wanted, knowingly. She wanted Peeta to be saved, she wanted him to be the one that came out of the arena alive. Not her. Haymitch had told you all of this, which is also a  good reason why you couldn’t let her in on the plan. Because it involved getting her out first.

“They have (Y/n)’s family too,” Finnick says, as if that helps. As if it’s supposed to make her feel better about her situation. So the both of you can suffer together, “They took them, along with Annie. They’re uh–they’re in the Capitol.”

You look up to Katniss now, to see how much her face has changed. There’s tears in her eyes, and you laugh, turning to look away from her. You’ve cried your tears already, you just want it to all be fake by now. One big dream and at any moment, someone is going to rock you awake.

Just like at the beach. Just like how Finnick had shook you awake. You want it to be exactly like that.

You wonder if you are stuck in a dream right now. Or maybe you’re dead, and this is your own personal hell. Knowing that your family is stuck in the captivity of the Capitol, with the full knowledge of the fact that Snow will go great lengths to make sure that you’re in pain. He’s going to do what he wants to your family, and he’ll do it because he has no repercussions.

Snow got Finnick’s family ten years ago. You suppose it’s your turn to suffer in the same way. After speaking out against Snow like that during your interview. After actively participating in the rebellion. This is going to be his way of getting you back.

You reach up, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. A laugh bubbles out of you, as you look at the ceiling.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick asks.

You laugh a little harder, shaking your head as you look to Katniss, and then Finnick.

“I thought I was untouchable.” you press your lips together, and then look down at your wedding ring, “I thought I couldn’t be affected, because it wasn’t me who was going to be the leader of the rebellion. I should have known.” you look at Katniss, “I’m really sorry, Katniss.”

A nurse comes down the hall, catching Katniss standing there. They move her back to her room, and it’s just you and Finnick in the room, back in silence.

“They’re not going to hurt them, (Y/n).” Finnick says quietly, “And you don’t need to be thinking like that.”

“Finnick, Snow went out of his way to go to District Four and get Annie and my family,” you shake your head, looking at him, “You’re being absolutely ridiculous if you think for one single second that he’s not going to do something.”

“Come here.” he says, his tone means it’s not up for debate. He sets down his rope, and holds out his hands for yours. You sit down, facing him and placing your hands in his, “Look at me.”

You’ve seen Finnick serious before, it’s not an outrageous thing. You’ve seen him determined, and angry, and fearless, and war-driven. You’ve seen him worried, and caring, and loving, and free. Throughout these years, you’ve seen everything you can come from him.

You look at Finnick, and you’re already getting emotional, because it hurts. And he sees this.

“Remember during the first games, and you kept telling yourself that you need to look up and not down?” he asks, “Because if you look down for too long, you’re going to think down? You’re going to think that none of it matters if you end up dying, anyway?”

You nod.

“This is the same thing.” Finnick says, “You thinking that they’re not going to make it out, is going to make something bad happen. You’re going to force those bad things to happen, instead of thinking up.”

Finnick’s right, as he normally is.

You laugh, looking down at the bed for a moment, “Thank you, Finnick.”

He yanks you towards him, letting go of your hands just in time so you face plant straight into his chest. He laughs at his antics, and wraps his arms around you for a hug. You do your best to hug him back.

“Tell me one of your favorite stories about them.” he demands.

You readjust yourself so you’re a little more comfortable. Even then, it doesn’t help, “Finn, you know all our stories.”

“Not all of them!” he says, “I didn’t know the one about the tree!”

“It was a useless story.” you giggle.

Finnick shrugs, “Then tell me the useless ones.”

You think for a moment, because all the stories to you, are just memories. None of them seem to stick out like a sore thumb. They all blend together, and you can’t even seem to find a funny one at first.

“Oh!” you say, “Let me sit up.”

“Got a good one?” he asks, letting you go.

You laugh, “Kinda. Did I ever tell you the first time I went to the square?”

Finnick begins giggling too, “No, but I have a feeling it’s a good one.”

You move Finnick’s left arm up, as you lay right next to him on the bed. He scoots over a little bit, and readjusts the pillow so you can be comfortable. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, and he looks down at you, since you’re laying and he’s sitting up.

“It was before my mom had died.” you begin, “I was roughly twelve when Alyssum had been born, so I must have been ten or so. Reed was fifteen, Mox was fourteen, and I was the runt at the time. Obviously, that meant I would have to endure a ton of torment, no matter what.

“Don’t get me wrong, okay? I love my brothers as much as the next person, but what they did one day was cruel. The day I had first gone to the square, we had run out of the essentials. Like shampoo and soap and all of that. Of course, we could go to one of the local stores and try to buy what they have but–you know how the old lady was.”

Finnick laughs, “Cranky, and everything in there was overpriced.”

“Exactly!” You laugh, “And the soaps were specially scented, and that’s why she made them overpriced in the first place. The only times we would buy from her, was either for weddings or funerals. Which are the two most important times for a person. Not birth!

“Anyway, Reed and Mox knew full well that I had never been to the square before, and since I hit double-digits they thought that sending me by myself to get soaps was the perfect way to do it. Even if I had no idea on how to navigate, or bargain, or know what I was after specifically.

“Mom and dad didn’t even think to stop them, because they didn’t know!” you laugh, “Reed and Mox left the house with me to make it look like they were going to do it, because it was their job to do. But they handed me the money, told me the basics of what I was looking for, and left me on my own.

“And when I mean left–” you giggle, and Finnick is laughing too, “I mean, they fucking left. They somehow knew that the wrath of our mom was going to bite them in the ass so fucking hard, that they fled halfway across the district to be out of reach. And they didn’t come home until it was late at night. But that’s for later.

“My brothers were so fucking cruel, they had sent me there at one of the busiest times of the day, because there’s three. One, really early in the morning for the people that want to get the good stuff. The afternoon to two o’clock for those who have nothing better to do during those times of the day. And right after work for everyone has ended. Can you guess which one they chose?”

“After work?” Finnick is still laughing.

“The place was a shit show, Finnick!” you motion with your hands, “Mostly fishermen that stunk of rotting fish that had sat in the sun all day. My dad had plenty of friends back then, his buddies that he would go on the water with during the day, so a few of the guys had obviously recognized me. They didn’t say a word, though. Because they thought I was on a mission.

“I was clutching twenty dollars like it was the last thing I had to my name, wandering around the stalls. I nearly got stepped on almost a hundred times. Do you know how many times I heard ‘oops, didn’t see you there, sweetheart!’? Too many! And yet none of them had thought to ask me what I was looking for.

“I ended up finding the stall that I was looking for, and I waited in line patiently. There was constantly people weaving in and out and occasionally stepping in front of me because I was too timid to tell them otherwise. I’m sure had I told them that I had been standing there, waiting, for almost an hour, they would have moved, but I didn’t have the guts.

“We both know how big and burly the fishermen in District Four get.” you settle down again, “Somehow, by some fucking miracle, I had gotten to the front of the line with the twenty dollars. And with the little knowledge that I had, I told the lady that I needed shampoo and body soap enough for five people with the twenty dollars that I had.

“At first, she tried to treat me like a regular person, because she’s seen the faces. They come in and out, and it’s hard to keep track of people in four, because we replicate like bunnies.” Finnick is in stitches at that comment, “But then, after I had answered one of her questions, she ever so slowly looked at me.”

You do the same, looking at Finnick as slowly as you can, “She looked me up and down, and then said, ‘honey, you don’t belong here’. As if I didn’t fucking know!”

Finnick shushes you, but he’s laughing too hard.

“I told her my brothers sent me in, and she asked me where they were. I told her that they left, and if she wanted to find them for me, that she could be my fucking guest because I knew that they would be ‘out of sight, out of mind’ far. We went back and forth for a while.

“She asked me if I had gone to any other stalls, and I told her that I was only allowed to get shower stuff. She told me I was smart for not falling for any of the candy displays, but to be honest I was so fucking scared of getting stepped on for the thousandth time, that I hadn’t even realized that there were any.

“She gives almost double the amount that I should have been given, and leaves enough money for me to go and get candy from one of the stalls. She gave me a bag, and right on top, wrote a nice note for my mom and dad and she told me not to read it. I got to the candy table, told them that the lady had sent me and she said that she would pay for it.

“The guy gave it to me on the house, of course, and then I was on my way home. I enjoyed my chocolate, but still semi-oblivious to what had just happened, I tucked some of the sweets away for my brothers when I would see them at home.” you grab onto Finnick’s arm, shaking him, “Because it had been almost three fucking hours since I left the house, and I figured that they would be there already. But guess what?”

“They weren’t there.” Finnick answers.

“They weren’t there.” you repeat, “I gave my mom the note that the lady wrote, and I’ve never seen my mom so caring before. She made me, her and our dad, my favorite dinner, and made basically bones for my brothers for when they would come home. My mom told me she was proud of me, and that I did a very good job inside of the square, but not to do it for a very long time.

“She found the chocolate that I had been saving for my brothers, and cut up some even pieces that were absolutely way too small to enjoy and placed that with their dinners. I allowed them to have the rest, and then after that, it was a waiting game.

“I stayed up hours past my bedtime with them, as they waited in the living room with me. Dad was reading a book, I was coloring, and mom was coloring right alongside me. The thing is, about our old house, is that it was two stories. My bedroom, and their bedroom was upstairs, but my brothers slept downstairs. Making it more than easy to come in through the window for them.

“They must have waited a while, because when they did come out of the room–” You’re laughing now, shaking your head, “–they were dressed in pajamas, and clearly ready with a flashlight to come and raid the fridge. Did I mention that we were sitting in the dark, though?”

Finnick is chuckling again, “No you didn’t, I have a feeling where this is going, though.”

“They shone the flashlight right on us.” you tell him, “Forget deer caught in headlights, they were light a couple of truckers that had caught the fucking deer! Mom jumped up and off the floor in two seconds and she tackled the both of them to the floor before they could escape to their room.

“Dad lit a few candles, and just like that, they were in giant ass trouble. They got yelled at for nearly an hour for doing that to me. And to make all the matters worse, they had shoved the chocolate in their face. Not in a way of ‘she got it and you didn’t’ but more of ‘even after you did this to her, she wanted to give you something nice’.”

You snort, “I think that’s when Mox became so sensitive, it’s because of me. Because I was the runt of the group, and they teased me relentlessly, and treated me like ass and even though they did, I still would do stuff like that. Get them their favorite treats, buy expensive toys with my own allowance and all that.”

You sigh, placing your hands on your stomach as you stare at the ceiling, “Unfortunately, two years later I would be taking trips to the square more often. Dad had gotten busy, trying to take care of Alyssum and providing for us. The days that Reed and Mox didn’t have school, they would be on the boat trying to help.

“And then it would get so much worse when dad had died, and I was suddenly put in charge of the square and Alyssum at the same time, since they would be busy with the boat and all that. It’s how the people of the square learned me more, and learned to respect who I was and all of that.

“I was twelve or thirteen, still getting used to it all. And then two years later would come the games,” you look over to Finnick, “I think you remember how that goes.” he nods, “I didn’t really have a reason to go back to the square after that. Too much money to know what to do with, I could have bought everyone out every single day, but it just wasn’t fun, y’know?

“I could have bought anything I wanted. The expensive bread, and meat, and the fancy perfumed soaps and shampoos. There was no need for the cheap stuff in the square, but I ended up going there anyway. I would basically shower people with money and tell them to keep the change.”

It’s quiet in the room, “You’ve always been adaptive.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” you tell him, “It’s luck that I hadn’t been taken in the square that day. Or have had my money gouged off me.”

“Do you have any more worthless stories?” he asks, sinking down on the bed with you.

They’re not worthless to him, you realize. He thinks that they’re fun and interesting, and he wants you to keep going. You look over to Finnick with tears in your eyes, and a frog in your throat, “Hundreds.”