#peeta mellark reader insert

[destourtereaux]

just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be. 

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part. 

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer. 

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter. 

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving. 

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his. 

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

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[gogogodzilla]

day 31, sex pollen

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, unprotected sex, fuck or die, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, reader gets sad at the end, multiple orgasms, dedicated to @omgbrcat hope you enjoy it bestie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast and wildly in your life. Well, except for last year when you were fighting for your life and running away from everything that was trying to kill you. 

Peeta was a few steps behind you, slower and stumbling a bit due to his prosthetic leg. You threw a glance over your shoulder every few seconds, just to make sure he was still there with you. 

The various leaves and foliage of the jungle hit you as you ran. You hardly even notice as the foliage shifts from a  normal lush green to unnatural shades of pinks, purples, and blues. You did notice, however, when one of the plants shoots a dusty substance directly in your face as you run past it. 

You lost your footing as you attempted to wipe the dust off your face. Peeta came up beside you, arms outstretched and ready to pick you up. 

“Don’t!” you shouted as you slowly stood, slightly relieved that your face didn’t immediately burn off. “I don’t want it to affect you, whatever it is.”

Your ears strained as you tried to discern if the mutts were still on your tail. 

“Do you hear them?” Peeta questioned, echoing your thoughts. “Y’know since you have a Capitol-engineered ear and all.”  

You huffed out a laugh as you listened. You couldn’t hear the familiar rustle of leaves, and you relaxed slightly. You knew never to get too comfortable in the arena, but your lungs were burning and you needed to get this stuff off your face. 

“Do you still have the spile?” you asked, attempting to avoid the way your body felt like it was on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, as he began to hammer it into the trunk of a nearby tree. You prayed that the trees wouldn’t be as hazardous as whatever was covering your face. You watched as he stuck a finger under the liquid flowing out of the spile, checking to make sure it was safe. 

He wrapped his hand around your elbow and it felt like fire bloomed under his touch. He was gentle as always as he guided your face under the water. You dragged your hands over your face as you washed off the dusty substance that had covered it. You attempted to rid yourself of the inferno burning under your skin. 

Your cheeks flushed as you pulled away from the stream of water. Peeta’s touch was fleeting but your entire body ached for him. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

Your heartbeat pounded in your chest with every shaky breath you took. You hunched over, attempting to calm yourself. A thin sheen of sweat begins to cover your skin, and your eyebrows furrowed in something akin to pain. 

You heard Peeta call your name, but the only thing you could get out was a whimper. He was on you within seconds, gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You scrambled out of his touch, thinking clearly enough to know that you needed to get away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, voice desperate and eyes frantically searching over your form. You hurriedly crawled away from him. 

You shook your head, as you pressed your back against a tree. “I— I don’t know. I feel hot,” you breathed, conflicted between clenching your thighs together and spreading them for him. 

 Peeta kneeled in front of you, eyes soft, “How can I help?” 

You remembered before you’d entered your first Games together how he didn’t want the Game to change him. You were thankful that he was still the same sweet boy you entered the arena with. He was different in some ways, of course. No one left the arena unscathed, but who he was at his core was unwavering. 

Your vision was becoming hazy, and a dull ache where you’d never felt it before emerged. You let out a low groan as the heat blistering down to your bones becomes almost unbearable.

Peeta crawled between your legs and cupped your face. You hissed at his touch, leaning into him. You gripped onto his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh through his suit. His touch felt heavenly against your skin, a ravenous hunger for more filled you to the very brim.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Please, Peeta.”

He swiped a thumb across your cheek, and your grip on his tightened. You tugged him closer, your limbs seeming to move on their own. You made a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. 

Peeta’s lips were hesitant against yours as he kissed you. He was always so gentle with you, never wanting to cross a line. You moaned against him, and swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. 

You wrapped your arms around his back and clawed at the zipper to his suit, tugging it down as much as you could. He sucked in a breath as you yanked his suit off of his shoulders, practically manhandling him. You were giving the Capitol exactly what they wanted, but you didn’t care. 

The ache deep between your legs was growing with every moment, and your body temperature rose along with it. Your kisses increased in desperation until you were pleading against Peeta’s lips and writhing against him. 

“It’s okay,” Peeta soothed, reaching behind you to unzip your suit. “I’ll help, it’s okay.” 

You hurriedly peeled your suit off your shoulders, letting out a sigh as Peeta’s fingers trailed over the newly exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of your neck and your chest. 

You ran your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, the feeling doing little to quell the electricity crackling under your skin. His tongue circled your nipple, eliciting a breathy whine from you. 

You raked your hands through the hair at the nape of his tugged and tugged on the strands. A groan vibrated in his throat, and his hands splayed against your ribcage. 

“Peeta,” you whined as he kneaded your other breast and you clenched your thighs around him. 

You couldn’t stand not having him for a second longer and you hooked your arms under his, gripping him tightly as you rolled to the side. You landed on top of him, straddling him. You panted as you finally got a good look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and he was flushed and breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “Is it getting to you, too?” 

He nodded, attempting to steady his breathing. You stood and shimmied out of your suit, tossing it to the side. You leaned down to hook your fingers into the waistband of Peeta’s suit and looked up at him through your lashes. The quick dip of his head was all you needed, and you were practically ripping his suit off of him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken off Peeta’s pants, but you flushed all the same. You were too focused on saving his life last time to worry about being embarrassed. 

You were back on him faster than your hazy mind could process, your hips moving on their own accord as you ground against his thigh. His length pressed against your belly, warm and unbelievably hard, as you dragged your hips against him. 

You reached down and stroked him in time with each rut of your hips. He let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh as you did. Your movements quickened, and you buried your face in the crook of Peeta’s neck. With each twist of your wrist around his cock, he was letting out noises that had heat pooling in your belly. His tip was leaking, and you loved the sound he made when you ran your thumb over it. 

Peeta’s fingertips dug into the plush of your hips so hard you didn’t doubt that he’d leave bruises. The animalistic part of you that had taken control wanted him to mark you in every way possible. Your slick had begun to cover Peeta’s thigh, allowing you to easily grind against him.

Your strokes became more erratic as your pace against Peeta’s cock increased. You both were so wound tight you might burst. You’d never been so aware of your pulse pounding in your ears, and you came with a strangled cry. Tears coated your cheeks as warmth encased your entire being and you spasmed against Peeta. You had a moment of respite as you thought the plant’s effects had subsided, but the drive to ravish him returned with a vengeance. 

He followed you off the precipice soon after you calmed down, back arched and head thrown back as his release covered your knuckles. The fog that surrounded your head cleared just enough for you to realize just how pretty Peeta looked like this. If you were going to die, you didn’t think you’d get a better view. 

Your pace slowed but Peeta was still hard in your hand. The boiling heat still lingered under your skin, and your pulse quickened. You wondered if that was the Capitol’s goal; to make you so fucked out you succumb to exhaustion or burn you from the inside out. 

Peeta looked utterly exhausted and a coil of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach. 

“Just one more, please,” you begged, trailing kisses down his neck. He nodded against you, and you could’ve cried from the relief that washed over you.

You lifted your hips and aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance, gasping at the sensation. Peeta’s hips bucked up unconsciously, shoving himself deeper inside you. A pained hiss left you, and Peeta cried out a thousand apologies, his iron grip returning to your hips once more. 

“I’m sorry. You’re just— Fuck… So— tight,” he babbled out, brown eyes glazing over. You pressed a featherlight kiss against his cheek, thoughts too consumed with his cock inside you to reassure him properly. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, sighing when your hips were finally flush. Peeta had his eyes screwed shut, gritting his jaw in thinly veiled restraint. 

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the tree as you rode him, releasing little pants and moans with every thrust of your hips. 

With each moment that passed your movements became more erratic, desperate to reach your peak once again. Peeta’s hands frantically roamed your body, grasping and kneading whatever inch of skin he could reach. 

He reached a hand between the two of you and drew hurried circles around your clit. He lifted his hips to meet yours, jutting himself deeper inside you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, and you prayed you were the only ones trapped in this portion of the arena. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you clenched around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy, and for a moment you feared you’d pass out. 

Peeta finished with a few more rolls of your hips against his. He filled you to the brim, his release hot and steady coated your walls. 

Your vision cleared as you came down from your high. The fire within you had finally dissipated, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You felt exhaustion consume you as you slumped against Peeta. 

“I’m sorry,” you slurred out, clinging onto Peeta like your life depended on it. Your face screwed up and you felt your throat tightening. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he rushed out, running his hands over your body, attempting to soothe you as quiet sobs wracked your body. Your last thought before drowsiness overtook you was of how much you didn’t deserve Peeta Mellark. 

Your heart pounded as you awoke, adrenaline spiking as you heard someone calling your name. You jumped to your feet, eyes frantically searching your surroundings. Your movements caused Peeta to stir and his eyes shot open, the same panic gracing his features. 

You tugged on your suit, grimacing at the dried cum that covered your inner thighs. You tossed Peeta his suit and pulled him to his feet. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, and the thought turned your stomach. Someone could’ve easily come along and killed you both. 

You grabbed your weapon while Peeta removed the spile from the tree. 

“Let’s just hope our sponsors enjoyed the show,” you joked, immediately cringing as soon as the words left your mouth. 

The corners of Peeta’s mouth quirked up, “I’m sure they did.”

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 6

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

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Time seemed to be blurring together.

You weren't sure exactly how long it had been since the Peacekeepers had closed you into this small room, dark and alone, suffocating in your grief.

Your heart hadn't yet settled its racing. If anything, it had only thumped harder against your ribs as if threatening to break free and run. Your desperate hopes for this all to be only a horrible nightmare had left you disappointed, and the reality of it all hit you like a hard brick. Your legs had shaken so bad that you could barely keep upright, having to pull one of the small rickety chairs out to sit down from the loud thumping in your head. The light streaming in through the small window beside you only made you want to mourn what you were to lose harder. You'd miss the ocean, the rays of light reflecting off the shimmering waves and the laughter that echoed off the beach. Now, it would be only a memory. A memory that would soon be lost.

You couldn't even feel the tears streaking down your face anymore. The second the doors had closed behind you; they had come like a tidal wave. Hot and heavy, leaving streaks down the slope of your cheeks and drying, only to be replaced again. You had never felt more pathetic than how you did now, compared to Nathan's bright smile before he was separated from you into the room directly across from your own. You were just glad you were able to keep your emotions at bay long enough to stay away from the prying cameras.

There was a small knock on the door opposite you, and you half expected a Peacekeeper to walk in or hear Electra's high-pitched voice drilling you about what was to come next, but instead a pair of familiar eyes peeked around the door.

You gave no second thought as you quickly stood up and ran into Emma's tight embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around you and supporting your weight. You didn't miss how her hair was almost falling apart, the ribbon slipping off to the side of her head, her eyes red and watered with tears. You knew you were no better. You could barely even hold back the tears that soaked into her beautiful dress. You nearly felt bad for ruining it.

"I only have a few minutes," she said, voice shaking between shallow breaths. You felt her hands tremble against your back.

She stepped back, grasping tightly onto you as though you'd slip away.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," you sniffed, lip threatening to wobble. "I'm not a killer, Em. And my dad, he needs me."

Emma shook her head, brows knitted together tightly. "No. Don't be silly. You can survive without putting up a fight. You're smart, you can hide somewhere, make traps." she inhaled sharply, her gaze solemn. "And your Pa. I'll make sure he's fine. You don't need to worry about anything else other than getting out of there."

You held your arms close. Maybe you could. You could run off into the arena, hide within small caves or trees or ditches. That was to say if there was any of those things within the arena. People in the past had won by hiding away, but the Gamemaker's always wanted a show. They'd force you out if they had to.

"Where is my dad?"

The question seemed to have shocked her, her eyes widening just ever so slightly before they landed at her shiny shoes. She nibbled on her bottom lip until you swore it would bleed.

"The Peacekeepers think he's too unstable... He's not coming to say goodbye, Y/N."

"Unstable?" you shook your head, throat tightening painfully. "That's ridiculous! He'll be fine once he sees me, he- I just need to see him."

Emma's lip wobbled. "I'm so sorry."

You looked away, instead turning to look back out the window just like minutes prior. For the first time, you didn't want Emma to see you so vulnerable, either. You were never one to hide your thoughts from her, your fears and worries, to let her see your tears and seek her comfort. Emma had seen you at your worst, holding you close once you opened up about your mother, about your father becoming weaker and sadder, about Finnick. Now, as she stood beside you it was like a taunting reminder of what the Capitol was taking from you. Or perhaps what you were going to lose.

You hated the way your chest tightened with anger. The very least the Capitol could do for you was give you a proper goodbye. Perhaps the world was against you today.

Emma seemed to hesitate beside you, fingers itching to reach out. You heard the slight crumple of paper, and you glanced over through blurred tears to see her holding out a torn piece of scrunched parchment and a cracked pen.

"If you quickly write something, I can give it to your Pa."

You stared down at the blank parchment, the corner stained in what you could only imagine to be a coffee spill. You tenderly took it from her grasp and placed it on the small wooden bench, scribbling down whatever came to mind first. You felt Emma's gaze linger on your back, silent, but her presence louder than ever. You didn't dwell on it for too long, fingers flexing around the grip on the pen.

Dear Pa,

Emma told me you couldn't come say goodbye. That's ok, because at least you'll have this whilst I'm gone. I'm sorry I can't come home tonight to have dinner, maybe you can invite Emma instead to help you cook. I'm sure she'd enjoy that. I love you so much, please remember to let the others help whilst I'm away. I'll try my hardest to come home for our next dinner together.

(PS: I'll keep Ma's dress safe for you :))

You blinked, a tear dropping onto the parchment and causing for the ink to bleed just slightly. You wracked your brain, thinking if there was anything to add. For the little time you had, you wished you could have better prepared yourself for what you would've liked to say. Emma gently gripped your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Time was catching up.

She smiled, her hand warm against you, but it wasn't comforting like it usually was. This was goodbye. "He'll appreciate it - more than you know."

You turned, bringing her into one last hug as the door swung open behind you. Emma's grip tightened to the point you could barely heave a breath, but you didn't care. You squeezed her tighter, her lips just barely brushing your ear before she was yanked away by Peacekeepers.

"Finnick will look after you. I know it!"

Her figure disappeared behind the door, and you wandered briefly if she was right.

The car ride to the train station was nothing but awkward.

You were more than aware of the dried tears staining your cheeks, sticky and tight on your skin despite hastily swiping at your face with the end of your dress. Your eyes must've been puffy and red, considering the long stare you received from Electra once she came to retrieve you from your room, as if she saw no reason for you to be crying.

You were ushered into the limo, squeezed in-between the door and Electra with Nathan on her left. It hadn't even been five minutes, and already you felt as though you were suffocating. Electra's ruffled dress scratched against your leg at every small move you made, and you were tempted to swat it away. Not to mention the endless rambling you had to listen to the whole way to the train.

What made it all worse, was the body sat right across from you.

You could feel Finnick's gaze burning into you, practically taking you apart piece by piece. You dared not look at him, instead opting to stare out the window as district four continued to fade away into the distance. It was a weird feeling, knowing that you might not be able to see the crashing waves and hear the sea gulls anymore. Your fingers had found a frayed loose strand of string at the hem of your dress, twirling it around your fingers in a way that you knew your Pa would scold you for. The thought made the corner of your lip twitch, both reliving the funny memory as well as longing for it to come back.

"I must say," Electra hummed, all too happy. "You two will do us absolute wonders, this year! You're both sure to get heaps of sponsors, no doubt."

You swallowed, stomach churning uneasily the longer you stared out the window.

"Not to mention, I requested you two have some of the best stylists from the Capitol! Oh, I'm so excited! Cheer up, little Swan, you'll have all the men and woman on their knees for you by the time you've made your first appearance."

Her touch was like flaming thorns on your skin as she patted your thigh in three quick taps. You held your tongue, willing yourself to keep the brewing insults at bay.

A throat cleared.

"Maybe save the parade talk for later," Finnick said, voice smooth but sharp. "She knows better than most what the Capitols expectations are."

You glanced at Finnick for the first time, heart fluttering in what you couldn't decide was anger or bittersweet grief. He sounded the same, but so different at the same time. There was no denying his voice had become deeper, more guarded, yet it still held the same familiarity that only twisted the knife deeper.

With him this close to you now, you realized just how long ago your friendship had been. He had matured not only in age, but in everything. Sea green eyes that would look at you with so much curiosity and mischief, now instead shadowed in secrets and built-up walls.

And what hurt most was the way he looked at you as if he still knew you. As if nothing had changed, his eyes boring into your own with recognition. You wondered if, maybe deep down, at least a little part of your friend was still left behind.

You looked away first, turning your gaze back to the window once again as your home faded out of sight.

The train had nearly everything you didn't.

You hadn't been raised into a life of luxury. Sure, you had all the necessities needed to grow happily within your district, even having more than most, but standing here now practically bathed in the Capitols wealth was eye opening.

From the moment you stepped into the train, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Pastries and citrus tarts, daring to make your mouth water, sat delicately arranged upon a large mahogany table in the center of the room. Velvet couches lined the walls, each having a pair of navy cushions with golden stitching. A crystal chandelier hung above, casting and reflecting a shimmering light across the room in a sense that reminded you too much of the ocean. You wondered briefly if that was an intentional decision.

Did every Capitol citizen live in such luxury?

Nathan stood close at your side, gaze wandering just as your own had. It was obvious he was new to this, too.

Finnick and Electra walked in behind you, barely just brushing against you as they moved to make themselves comfortable. Whilst Electra went straight to the wine glasses, pouring herself a decent amount of sparkling wine, Finnick sat himself onto one of the couches with a hand brushing through his golden hair. You imagined that they'd both been in here more than enough times for it to not amaze them anymore.

"It's warm," Nathan hummed, barely audible, but you heard it. You nodded in agreement, instinctively going to brush at your arms like you could still feel the chilly wind from home.

Electra glanced over, smile as delicate as her outfit.

"I had heaters installed last year into all the rooms. I've always hated your district for being so cold, didn't you?"

You internally scoffed. District four had to be one of the warmest places you could be, bathed in sunlight and hard work. It was rarely cold, mainly ever when a storm was about to hit or winter was beginning to swoop in. You don't think Electra ever had to lift a finger so as to get anything she wanted, polished and spoilt since before the day she was born.

You merely shrugged your shoulders. "Can't say I noticed."

You didn't mean for it to sound as blunt as it did, but by the way Electra had eyed you for a second too long, lips falling just enough for you to notice, she must've taken slight offence. You didn't care to feel bad for her.

Clearing her throat and standing tall, she walked over to where Finnick was sat and brushed her long fingers upon his shoulder. You noticed the way he shifted, but smiled, nevertheless.

"I'm sure you're both aware of our most prized victor, Finnick Odair! He'll be the one to be mentoring the both of you this year."

She gave a quick 'come here' motion, patting to the seats that sat directly across from Finnick. Your eyes briefly met his, before you carefully lowered yourself onto the plush cushions. Nathan was quick to follow behind you.

You dared to open your mouth, to say that you did in fact know him. Knew him, you corrected. But you held your mouth shut tight. Finnick, the charmer he is, sank back into his seat with a lighthearted smile, the dimples you remembered showing themselves like a taunt.

"We'll see, these two might outshine me by the end of the week," Finnick said through breathy chuckle. You ignored the flutter in your stomach.

He placed his elbows on his knees, leaning in close and expression serious.

"I won't throw everything at you both so soon, but I do want you to be prepared before we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. That means you both need to get your acts together if we want to make them like you."

You folded your arms, subtly glancing to your right. Nathan's brows were furrowed in deep concentration, leg bumping yours due to the closeness. You didn’t think he noticed considering he seemed to ignore it, attention solely set on Finnick’s every word.

He continued. "I need to know both your strengths and weaknesses. The Capitol will eat up whatever performance we give them. We can give them a reason to adore you."

Nathan cleared his throat, propping his foot up onto his knee.

"When are the interviews?"

"The interviews with Caesar won't be until the day before the games. However, the Capitol will be broadcasting every move you make. The tribute parade is tomorrow, so that will be your first official appearance," Finnick said.

He turned to you, and you straightened subconsciously.

"I know you can swim. Fast. Thats good, we can work with that."

Part of you was almost charmed that he'd remembered such a crucial factor about you, that he hadn't completely forgotten about you like you thought he might've.

Key word, almost.

The bitterness of the day was catching up to you, and you all but wished to find whichever room you were staying in and sleep until the sunlight hit your eyes and you were back home. You refrained from showing the frown threatening to appear, instead letting the words slip before you could think to stop them. In all honesty, you didn't have the patience to care.

"I didn't know you knew so much about me."

You saw the change. The flicker behind his eyes and the twitch in his jaw. He didn't look at Nathan or Electra despite the long silence that followed, eyes burning into your own like he was determined to break you down. It nearly amused you as much as it haunted you. His eyes narrowed, slow and careful.

"Look, Honey," he started, tone soft but edged with something deeper. "You can either accept my help or figure it out on your own if you wish it, but for now, I'm all you've got. I'd suggest choosing carefully if you want to survive."

You held his gaze, throat tight, and it was only when Electra hummed an odd tune that you tilted your head to her.

"I hear Nathan is quite strong, some Peacekeepers were rumoring that you can haul in large nets alone!"

Finnick readjusted, exhaling a long breath.

"Can you handle any weapons?" he asked to which Nathan lowly chuckled.

"I was trained through the academy for a few years, didn't think I'd be back in this year, but things change. Spears and strength are my strong points."

You didn't doubt that. You had occasionally seen Nathan out by the docks handling spears like an extra limb, and whereas those spears were always aimed at fish, it could soon be targeted right into somebody's chest. Nathan was already a big guy; you were sure he'd easily throw anybody and pin them in seconds if he wanted to.

You were a fast swimmer, no question. But you'd never been able to use spears as well as the fishers back home or gut fishes ready for dinner plates. Finnick had once tried to help you with that back before he left for his games, though you both discovered you were terrible for it when you kept stumbling over your own feet and missing every catch. You wished now that you'd have tried a little harder. You could handle knives, well in fact, using them to catch fish with Emma ankle deep along the shoreline, but other than that it was between net tying and swimming with your head above the water.

"We have something to work with, then," Finnick's voice snapped you from your thoughts. "For the both of you. We'll talk more strategy tomorrow, but for now I'll let the two of you settle until arriving. Show the Capitol your worth and that you belong."

You flexed your fingers, eyes once again roaming the room. Deep down, you thought if he felt something when your name was called. It might've been selfish, but you wondered if his breath caught just as yours had when his name was called all those years ago, if he'd watched you walk onto the stage with his chest closing in and thoughts spiraling into chaos.

"I don't want to overload you," he said, voice steady. "Rest before tomorrow. You'll need it."

You didn't argue.

The only thing on your mind right now was to leave this room and bask in the last few hours of silence before your world changed.

Tags: @lunar-stars-world @sundawn1990 @harlemdream @teataryn @fluffyflamingo20 @cheese10001 @heidiland05 @xoxpetals @katnipwintergreen @finnickodairsnumber1fan

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[flowercrownsandherondales]

hiii can u write something where haymitch and reader get chosen for the games?

Hi! Thank you for the request! I'm not sure which games you wanted to see, but I hope I did it justice!

Harness Your Hopes

Even the strongest, cannot overcome the power of the Capitol… the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors….

I can still smell the alcohol that pooled through our living room carpet. 

I can still feel Haymitch’s shaking form in my arms, heaving breaths coming out in short gasps as I attempted to soothe his sobs. 

Glass cracking…hearts cracking…floor opening and throwing us under. 

Muffled noises as Peeta visited, begging my husband to save Katniss. Muffled voices as Katniss visited, begging Haymitch to save Peeta. 

I didn’t care to listen to either of them beg for their lives, as if my husband’s wasn’t as important as theirs. As if he wasn’t even a person, just a puppet to protect them. 

Anger. Raw, scalding anger radiating up my body. Part of my brain begging me to remember how much I cared for the two, the other part screaming for me to unleash the fury I held at the way they spoke to him, looked at him, like he was nothing. 

Just a washed up drunk, pathetically living in the past. 

They didn’t know him. They never bothered. Didn’t know how he called out to his family in his sleep, how he hadn’t touched a bottle before it was all ripped from him. They didn’t know how our marriage was forced upon him, something I grimaced at each time it popped into my mind. 

I love him. I loved him when we played as children, four years apart and clinging to him, I loved him when he was mean and hurt, tossing words and bottles at me when I tried to visit and help him though the pain he was in after his games. I loved him even more when I was reaped at 18, three months away from freedom. Haymitch freshly 22, taking less sips of liquor when he realized I was reaped due to my proximity to him, that it was his job to get me out. I was hopelessly, impossibly in love with him when he held me during nightmares when I did get out, when he jumped into the limelight to save me from prostitution, offering to marry me instead. 

I held onto him as tight as possible that night, and every other night that lead us closer to this day. Whispering my words of love, my final goodbyes. At first he refused to hear them, covering my mouth with his calloused hand and begging me to stop. Now he let me. Resigning himself to the truth.

We dressed that morning in silence, neither of us bothering to eat. Haymitch only had a sip of alcohol, wanting to stay sharp for our inevitable demise. 

We held hands the entire walk over, peacekeepers attempting to split us apart to stand on opposite sides of the stage. His grey eyes met mine, full of unspoken conversations, desperate fear and anger. He raised my hand that had been clasped in his, leaving a single kiss on my knuckles before parting. 

“As usual, ladies first.” Effie’s voice cut through, gloved hand fishing around an empty bowl. Two names to choose, just like the bowl with the boys. 

“And our female tribute… Katniss Everdeen.” The brunette at my side let out a choked gasp. I looked towards Haymitch, who seemed to take a breath of relief. 

He was going to volunteer for Peeta. That was the deal he’d made with him while my head fought to understand what had been announced by Snow. 

I’d be damned if I had to live this life without him. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” It came out before I had time to think about it, before Katniss could break out of her stupor to try and stop me. 

Effie just pursed her lips, eyes starting to glisten, not that she’d ever let a tear fall in a moment like this. 

She swallowed down her sob, Katniss stood mouth gaping, Peeta looked uncomfortable, and Haymitch… 

I refused to look at him. 

“And now for the boys…” Effie cleared her throat, hand twisting through the two slips, “Peeta Mellark.” 

I took a breath, closing my eyes as Haymitch stepped forward. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” His gruff voice, so often unheard by the district that had abandoned him to rot, rang clear through the square. 

I finally looked at my husband, his eyes filling with resignation. Or maybe it was peace, just as I felt, all of our anger and deviation at the situation slowly melting away.

We stepped forward, my hand shakily reaching for his, clasping them together again. 

“Our tributes for District 12, Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy.” 

I raised his hand as he had done to mine only minutes before, leaving the most tender, most heartfelt kiss upon his knuckles. 

I loved you, I love you, I will always love you.

I thought back to what I had written in the early hours of the morning, once Haymitch had finally fallen asleep. Whoever came to clean out our house once we were gone would find it on the table. A faded photograph of us, taken at the Capitol, the only true moment we'd let them have in public.

And on the back I had written:

I'm damned if I don't. I'm damned if I do

But what heaven it would be, to be damned here with you.

Our eyes met. 

Together. In sickness and in health. In life and in death. 

Always together. 

[freak-accident419]

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Summary: You go to a gas station and notice something peculiar. Immediately after, you wake up and acknowledge your current situation: in a chair, tied up to a stranger with your backs to each other, with restraints promising no way out. While you two figure out a plan to escape, you bond in the process.

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: fluff (?), gender-neutral reader (no pronouns used), kidnapping, swearing, mentions of death

(A/n: title was taken from Suki Waterhouse’s song because I find it funny how she was in this movie. Also jhutch is very good looking. Inspo from the interrogation scene in Stranger Things 3.)

-

You pulled up into a gas station, filling up your vehicle, and then going inside the store for any extra snacks or cigarettes. You had just finished up your evening shift at work, and in the process of driving home, decided to make a pit stop.

The gas station employee named Melinda, evident by the embroidered name on her uniform, scanned your items as you waited patiently, looking around the store and through the window. Then, your eyes trailed to the large security footage screen, showing the several different views of the property in a grid. However, one square caught your attention as you saw…

Was that a man? Tied up in a chair?

“What the hell?” You say out loud, peering closer at the footage of the struggling man in a secluded room. Were your eyes lying to you, or was this really happening?

You look back at Melinda, and pointed at the security footage with your thumb in hostility and confusion. “Hey, Melinda, what the fuck is thi—”

***

Your head was throbbing and your vision spinning. You slowly began to fully open your eyes, attempting to rub them with your fingers, except…

You realized your hands were restrained. You were restrained.

You were gradually gaining awareness of what had happened, piecing everything together in your head. The last thing you felt before your vision went black was trauma to your head, a short pain before losing consciousness. And now, you were in a room, in which its details matched the exact one you saw through the surveillance cameras with the tied up man.

And it only took you seconds later to finally realize that you were in a chair, restrained to him back-to-back. Your wrists were zip tied behind you to the chair with his, and bright orange duct tape restrained the both of you. And not only that, but your legs were duct taped to the chair legs as well. You could barely move.

“What the fuck…” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. There was no sign of Melinda in the room, however. She must have left you here while she would be preoccupied with working the store.

“Hey.”

His voice surprised you, only because it was a bit unexpected. He sounded tired and frustrated, which made you wonder even more what she had done to him and why, even.

It felt a bit weird and awkward to not be able to see his face if you’d begin to talk with him. This whole situation was weird. Having to be restrained to a man. Well, being restrained in the first place.

“Hey,” you replied softly.

There was an awkward silence. You felt like you should’ve been more afraid because you were practically kidnapped, but really, you were just more confused.

“Okay, what… what the fuck is this?” You asked before he could speak again. “Like, why were you here and tied up in the first place? And why am I here now? What the hell is this? Some kind of prank, or—”

“No, for fuck’s sake, it’s obviously not a fucking prank,” he said, which caught you off guard, because you didn’t expect him to be so hostile and vulgar after first hearing a small ‘hey’ from him. “Turns out, Melinda over there is a fucking psychopath who, first of all, burnt me with fucking coffee, then tied me up in this fucking stupid chair,” he explained with frustration and dismay. Well, at least now you knew what his favorite swear was. “Now, I have no idea why she would tie you up too, but otherwise, it probably was for a stupid reason as well.”

You pondered for a bit, actually trying to think of a legitimate reason why that woman would keep you captive here too, while simultaneously being slightly intimidated by this man due to his excessive swearing. But then again, you thought it was an understandable reaction to being held captive.

“Well… I seriously didn’t do anything at all. I just went up to the counter with my stuff and… and then I saw you on the security camera screen. And I was about to bring it up, but then… Oh…” You put the pieces together and found that Melinda would have held you captive as well because you’ve already witnessed what she had done—tie up and lock the man in a room. She definitely turned off the cameras after her encounter with you, ensuring nobody else would see them.

“Right,” he sighed. You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking of what to say.

“Hey, so… What about you, then? Was there a… specific reason why she stuck you in here, or is she entirely and wholeheartedly insane?” You urge, while wanting to know more of what kind of situation you were in.

“Yes, but… If I tell you, don’t be like… alarmed, or anything, or… I don’t know, hate me, I guess,” he says with a tone of exhaustion and fatigue.

That was definitely a questionable thing for him to say, but you figured that as long as you were both tied up together, for now you were both on the same team. “Alright. Yeah, just… Just help me understand our situation more,” you implore.

He took a short breath, then finally let it out. “Okay, so… I was robbing the place.” Alright, you definitely weren’t expecting that. “And before you say anything, it was for a good reason, okay? It wasn’t personal, I just needed the money to pay off debt from these stupid fucking bikers. But that’s all. I swear.”

It was kind of weird to you, how much you sort of tolerated this—tolerated him.

“Hm. So, you’re telling me… She tied you up here because you were a threat?” You asked, which seemed like a pretty valid reason why—like a survival instinct. But you figured that since you were also tied up as well, there were probably more layers to her as a person.

“Well, yes… and no. I don’t know. She… She wanted to go with me after I’d pay the bikers. Like, get out of here with me. Which was really weird to me, because, like, why the fuck would you want to go with someone who robbed you with a gun, you know?” He said, making you now think more about him and what he had done—how he got himself in this situation in the first place. “Look, she didn’t even call the damn cops. That’s how… weird this shit is. I don’t know what she wants. I guess she feels, like… shit—alone and neglected? She was saying how… how everyone paid more attention to her co-worker instead of her. But now she’s dragged you into this goddamn mess, and all of this just feels so unnecessary. I seriously don’t know what her motives are now.”

You nodded as you heard this. You could agree with that. This gas station employee was definitely unhinged at some extent. You just hoped you would be able to live after all this.

“Hey, so,” you began with slight hesitation, feeling more curious about this man. “What’s your name?”

You could swear you heard a light snicker escape his lips, probably from how unusually compliant and calm you two were to each other. It could’ve been the adrenaline, or something. “I’m Billy,” he answers very smoothly.

“Hm,” you hum shortly as you raise an eyebrow, looking at the same, light blue wall you had been facing ever since you woke up. “Well, I’m Y/n,” you tell him.

“Y/n,” he repeats softly to himself, letting out another chuckle. “That’s a hell of a nice name.”

You scoff from amusement and smile to yourself. “Thanks,” you reply, not really expecting that comment, appreciating it, however. “Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while,” you remark.

“Yup,” he said, followed by an exasperated sigh. “Don’t know when that fucking psycho chick is coming back, but we should use this time to make an escape plan, or something.”

“Right.” You observed your surroundings, seeing just a bunch of random junk, shelves, and a desk, gradually feeling a bit of claustrophobia. At least you were able to infer that the room you two were trapped in was the employee’s only room or office. However, something finally caught your eye, making your heart race.

“Hey, um, Billy?” You say as you try to clear your vision, squinting at the object you think you see.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“I think… I think I see a pair of scissors… over there.” Your vision had completely cleared up as you saw grey scissors sitting on top of a wooden desk.

“Holy shit, really?” You heard surprise and hope in his voice, which sort of lifted you up as well.

“Yeah,” you smile to yourself. “It’s like, on a table in the corner, I could probably find a way to get it in my hands..” You didn’t notice or acknowledged it before, but you finally realized that since your wrists were tied with his, the backs of your hands were touching the whole time. You also noted that you could feel a thin metal against your index finger—he was wearing a ring. However, the slight warmness and softness of his hand strangely brought you mere comfort.

You shook it out of your mindset though, as you focused rather on escaping. “Hey, so,” you began, looking down at your shoes, then up at the scissors. “It’s a pretty good distance away. I’m not sure how we can reach it.”

“Well, um, maybe we can try to, like, scoot at the same time to get closer to it. Like I could probably scoot back while you scoot forward.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, good idea,” you reply. You look down at your shoes again, in which they were barely touching the ground due to the way they were taped. “Fuck, this is gonna be difficult,” you scowl.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Billy reassures. “We can just try to scoot our whole bodies. Like, hop or something, anything.” You listened to him, preparing to obey his plan. “Okay, on the count of three, we scoot towards that desk, alright?” You hum in agreement. “Okay, right. One, two, three…”

With the two of you scooting at the same time, you moved yourself and the chairs about an inch forward. The scissors were still pretty far, but you figured it wouldn’t take too long to continue scooting.

“Okay, good,” he praises, impressed by the progression. “Okay, again. One, two, three…”

You two did the same movement again, which brought you even closer to the desk, but still not close enough. You grinned as you sought the possibility of escaping and leaving after this, to immediately go to the authorities and detain Melinda.

“Yes! We’re-we’re almost there, just a couple more,” you observe with enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, okay,” the way he spoke made you just know he had a big grin on his lips. “One… two… three…”

“Fuck!” You blurted as you felt a sharp pain after falling onto the floor with him, the chairs losing balance and collapsing ever since you tried to scoot forward once more.

“Goddamnit! Fuck!” He exclaimed in frustration as the two of you were now on the floor on your sides, still very much secured to your chairs. You hear him mumble a few swears, hissing from slight pain, until he heard your reaction to this, face contorting as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are… Are you fucking laughing?”

Indeed you were. You were sort of cackling on the floor, so very amused by all of this, but you didn’t really know why. But then again, humor was one of your instinctive reactions to life-threatening situations, so it would make sense for your mind to manipulate the dire reality of the circumstance. “I’m sorry,” your laugh transitioned into soft, dispersed giggles as your eyes face the wall once more. “Sorry. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t laugh,” you say as you were still grinning. “I just… cannot believe that I am… tied up to a stranger in a goddamn gas station. At the hands of a… an apparently lonely gas station worker who took things too far? It’s bullshit, man! People are fucking crazy!”

Billy scoffed from impatience. “Y/n, I get that, but this is fucking serious, okay? I know that this seems like there’ll be an easy way out of this, but Melinda is a fucking psycho. Shot and killed her co-worker, burnt my—”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted as you thought you didn’t hear it right. “She killed her co-worker?”

“Yeah, well… Technically, okay? I wasn’t actually going to shoot her, but then Melinda spilled fucking hot coffee on me which made me instinctively pull the goddamn trigger,” he explained, now making you question everything. You don’t know this man, why trust him as well? Was he the bad guy all along? Then it looked like he knew what you were thinking, because he added, “Look, if Melinda wasn’t crazy, then you wouldn’t be fucking tied up to me as well, alright?”

You sighed. That was true. “Right.” It was a bit of alarming news to you, the fact that someone died here tonight at the hands of the man tied up behind you, but also at the hands of the woman who tied you up. You didn’t really want to think about that and your possible demise, so you shifted the subject. “Hey, so… Why a gas station?”

You heard Billy scoff. He seemed to do that a lot, you presume. “Well, I figured there’d be a lot of money here. You know, gas is one of the most expensive fucking things in the world.”

“Well, true, but nobody pays with cash anymore, man. Tell me, how much did you get from the registers?” You chuckle.

“Like… less than a hundred dollars—”

“Pftt. See, y—”

“But I got into the safe. Well, technically Melinda did. There was, like, at least thousands,” he says.

“And you said you needed to pay off, like… bikers?” You asked.

“Yes. And those stupid clown assholes know I’m robbing this place, so they’ll kill me if I don’t have their fucking money.”

“Damn, dude! What exactly did you do to piss them off?” You laughed softly.

“Debt and my anger issues,” he answered. “That’s sort of what got me here in the first place. I could’ve left with the money already, but Sheila kept fucking with me.”

“Sheila?”

“The co-worker,” he clarified. Oh, right.

“Hey, maybe once this is all over, I’ll get you an anger management book in time for Christmas, alright?” You joke sweetly, hearing soft laughter from the both of you.

“Honestly, I definitely need one of those. Like, I swear I’m working on myself, but clearly—”

“Clearly, your actions have shown—” you began to add.

“That I still have a lot to work on, yes,” he chuckled. He seemed to do that a lot, too. And, if you were going to be truly honest with yourself, you thought it was charming—that he was charming.

To think, that you’d be charmed by a gas station robber who just happened to be tied up to you. Right. That didn’t sound right. It was probably some shared trauma thing that made you have these weird feelings. So they had to be fake. Right?

But you were smiling way too much. And he wasn’t even able to see your face, so why would you be smiling—other than the fact that he could be truly captivated by him?

“Y/n?”

You slightly flinched as you were brought back to the present, realizing he had been speaking to you while you were reflecting to yourself.

“Uh-yeah?”

“What was it?” He asked.

“What was what?”

“Were you even listening to me?”

“Spaced out. Sorry,” you briefly answered.

He let out a soft, amused chuckle. Despite the fact that his face had been burned, with the biker gang on their way to kill him, and the way he was tied up by a crazy lady, he sort of enjoyed this with you. You were entertaining and patient with him. It felt refreshing. And he admired that.

“I asked you what brought you to Paradise Pumps tonight,” he repeated for you.

“Oh. Yeah, um…” You thought about how your day went today. “Just finished my evening shift and when I was driving home, I realized the fuel level was pretty low, so I stopped by.”

He hums in response. Then asks, “Evening shift? What’s your work?”

“Retail,” you answer, chuckling to yourself. “I know it’s not as interesting as gas station robber, but—“

“Hey. I don’t normally fucking do this. In fact, like, this was my first time robbing a place. I needed the money that bad. I’m not, like, some criminal,” he says with urge. You could tell he was a bit sensitive about that.

There was a sort of comfortable silence for a while as you thought about it. “Tell me about yourself, then.” You ask gently. “Like, other than your… shit with the bikers and robbing gas stations.”

Billy shrugged as he tried to think of how to answer you. “Umm… I was born and raised in Kentucky,” he began.

“Go Wildcats,” you softly add, smiling to yourself.

He slightly giggled, and there was a smile on Billy’s face as well, but with your circumstances, you couldn’t see. In fact, you never really knew what he looked like, and he didn’t know what you looked like. You tried to remember from seeing the surveillance camera, but it was too quick of a memory to have a clear picture of him in your head.

“And… I don’t know. What do you wanna know?” He questioned.

You hum. “Just convince me you’re not really a bad guy.”

You heard a sigh leave his lips. “I… I told you… I’m… I’m not a bad guy. I’m not some… evil criminal guy and I’m not a killer. I’m just… currently involved in very complicated circumstances.”

You decided to hear him out, dropping it completely. “So, what were you going to do after you paid the bikers then?” You wondered.

“I was just gonna… I don’t know… get the hell out of this place. Like leave far away, probably. Get a fresh start,” he answered, which you responded with sympathy. There was another short, comfortable silence before you interrogate him again.

“You caused this much trouble here? ‘Specially with the bikers?”

“Yeah… I don’t know… I just want a second chance in life,” he admitted softly.

You sensed that he was becoming more and more vulnerable. More truthful. You wish you were able to look him in the eye. But instead, you were back to back, on the floor, tied to a stupid chair.

You didn’t know how to feel towards this man. He was robbing the place, but only because he would’ve been killed if he didn’t have the money, and he had no intention of harming anyone. Maybe there was some type of goodness in him.

“Yeah… I understand that,” you reckon. “I believe that people deserve second chances. Especially people like you.”

“‘People like me,’ what do you mean by that?” You heard a bit of defense in his voice.

“No, I meant… You seem to… You seem really unlucky as of recently… In debt with guys who could kill you, gas station robbery gone wrong and now you’re, like… practically kidnapped alongside a stranger,” you elaborate tenderly.

You could hear a warm chuckle before he says, “Well… being stuck with you isn’t really what I’d consider unlucky.” He was smiling, looking at the white tiles of the floor. “If anything, you’re just keeping any possible insanity at bay. You’re… You’re actually very kind, which is making this… ‘experience’ less shitty than it was intended to be.”

You smile to yourself, not sure if you were feeling a bit flustered as a reaction. You were glad to know he appreciated you. “Well, yeah… I can’t imagine being alone in this situation. I think I would’ve been more disoriented without you,” you add.

He hums in agreement. “Well… we’re not alone. We have each other, and we can figure out a way to get out of this alive,” he says comfortingly. “I’m sorry that if anyone were to be restrained to you, it ended up being a lousy gas station robber, but—”

“No, it’s…” you laugh under your breath. “It’s okay. And… you’re more than that. You even said it yourself. I really hope you get your fresh start after this, Billy.”

You were a comfort to him. You were understanding and patient and kind. You even made him forget he had major anger issues. “Me too…” he says quietly.

Time passed fairly smoothly as you two had continued to laugh and converse, learning more and more about each other. Each smile and laugh you two expressed made each of your hearts flutter in such an unsuspected way. And soon enough, none of you ever brought up or reacted to the fact that, for a while now, your pinky fingers were linked together in one hand.

[malereaderworld]

Breathe 📍

Finnick Odair x male reader x Peeta Mellark

Warnings: slight violence, grief and slight mentions of trauma.

As i opens my eyes. I’m somewhere white and spartan. Lying on a wall-mounted cot. I try to move my head painfully, when i notice my head and arm are bandaged.

“Peeta? Finnick?” I call out, sitting up. Looking around me I can see Beetee is hooked up next to me.

I get out of the bed, grabbing a syringe. I walk through a door and into the corridor. Holding the syringe like it’s a murder weapon.

Walking in to the corridor I look around me, I see a half open door. As I creep to an open door I hear voices, which I don’t recognise.

“We’ve got to try.” I let out a small sigh of relief, recognising Finnick’s voice. “It's too late. We'd all be killed.” That’s Haymitch.

“We have to. I promised Y/n I would protect him with my life, he’s been out for the past 2 days…” He pleaded with Haymitch.

“No, I’m so sorry but we can’t. Not yet, it’s too risky.” Plutarch replied, with a somber tone.

“Is there nothing we can do, for y/n? He’s the reason you even had a chance to enter the arena. This plan couldn’t have worked if he hadn’t shot that arrow…” Katniss argued back…

Frustrated, I shove open de door. I’m met with Haymitch, Finnick, Plutarch and Katniss look at some sort of map. They all look at me, met with smiles.

“Morning sunshine.” Haymitch says.

Still woozy I try to swing the syringe at him. He catches my wrists, twisting until I drop the syringe.

“So, you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.”

I try to push with my wrist in the air, my eyes watering. “Calm down, have a seat.” He settles me in a chair. I look over at Finnick, Plutarch and Katniss. Plutarch claps.

“Well done, very good job. Though a bit messy at the end but we got you out.” He nods to the rest, they smile. Betrayed I look over at Haymitch.

“We couldn’t tell you, it was just too risky. Not with Snow watching you, it was better for you not to know anything.” He shakes his head guilty, looking down.

I look over at Finnick and Katniss. “So our alliance, saving Peeta…”

“Only to save you. So you wouldn't run off if he died. Half the tributes were in on it.” Katniss admits. “You were our mission from the start.” Finnick adds.

You still don’t get it, or don’t want to.

“You're the Mockingjay. While you Live, the revolution thrives. We need you in Thirteen now.” Plutarch speaks. Bewildered I turn back at Haymitch.

“District 13?” Only having heard of it in folklore. Never thinking the place actually existed. “Where’s Peeta?”

“Still had his tracker, Johanna cut yours out.” Haymitch looks down. “Where is Peeta?”

“He’s with johanna…” I stare at Haymitch, his eyes meet mine. “In the Capitol.”

“You son of a-” I fly at him, nails digging in his cheeks drawing blood. Finnick immediately grabs me, as Plutarch stabs me with the syringe. I fall to the ground in Finnick’s arm, my hands grabbing his cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s okay, we’ll find our love. It’s okay.” A tear forming in his eye. Everything goes black.

[theendless22]

I Know Places…

Summary: In the third quarter quell, tensions run high, and time is ticking. It’s your last opportunity to confess your feelings to Peeta before it’s too late, but the cameras are watching, and they love a good show. It’s a good thing you know places. (Not proof read, sorry!)

Warnings: Mentions of the Prim Reaper, mentions of voyeurism, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex.

Pairings: AFAB x Peeta Mellark

My Masterlist

It’s the first glimpse of dawn in the quarter quell, you’re stood with your feet in the sand, the grainy specks of gold digging inbetween all of your crevices. Head hung low as the sky is painted with pastels. It’s too artificial for your liking, you know someone who’d like it though. Watercolour splotches in the sky look like the painted canvases you’re now all too familiar with, but these splashes of colour aren’t a sight for sore eyes, they’re a soul shattering reminder of the freedom you’ll never get. You find it shameful that your favourite colour isn’t orange, otherwise you could’ve learnt to grow appreciation for the sunset.

You stand with your hand on my waistline

You don’t even need to turn around to know who’s graced you with the featherlight touches, slender fingers burning patterns into your skin, marking you. You glance over your shoulder, your hand shielding your eyes from the golden rays. Your gaze once fixed on the rippling water splashing against your ankles, now narrowed as you gauge the expressions on his face. He’s nervous, you’re sure. Brown puppy dog eyes flickering from your face to your waist, soft smile with a little bit of teeth as he gauges you too. You’re nervous, and he’s sure.

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

“Lovely skyline tonight…” He whispers, giggling as you roll your eyes at him. “I’m not a fan…” You reply, sighing quietly. “Not a fan of the colours?” He quirks a brow at you his hand wrapping round to rub your stomach, almost maternally as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

Fuck.

You forgot about the whole fake pregnancy thing. You whip your head round, eyes wide as you push Peeta by the chest, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted as he topples over, falling to his knees, he gasps in shock.

“Knock it off.” You mutter under your breath, becoming self aware of the numerous cameras documenting your every motion, you glance around, frowning when you realise your “allies” are staring right back at you.

“What was that for?” Peeta mutters, looking up at you from his spot on the sand. He runs a hand through his hair, returning to his feet again. Confusion etched on his face as he steps closer to you.

“You know I’m not good at acting right?” You ask softly, soft eyes pleading with him as you trail your hand down his arm, interlocking your hand with his. He nods at you, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “I just…I’m finding it hard pretending, that we’re…something.” You whisper, your gaze dropping to your feet, you kick at the sand in frustration.

The large hand gripping your chin like a vice, tilting it upwards takes you back to the time when he touched you like this, and you have a hard time deciding if you like it or not. “Everybody is watching and I-I know we have a reputation to uphold but I…I don’t like that people will think it’s real.” A stray tear rolls down your cheek,

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

“You don’t want him to think that, do you? You don’t want Gale to think it’s real, do you?” His voice raises slightly, unable to withhold his disappointment and frustration, eyebrows raised as his hand drops from your face. You screw your eyes together, pouting at the mention of his name. It’s not like you liked Gale in that way, not anymore at least, it’s just easy to persue someone like Gale, convenient. You’re not much of a risk taker, and Gale’s not much of a risk, you think it’s better to play it safe than to be starry eyed like Peeta.

But you know the other tributes are staring at you now, and you dread to think what Finnick and Johanna have to say about this ordeal, regardless of if they can hear you or not, your face drains of colour at the thought of everyone finding out that the relationship you and Peeta have is a lie, that your pregnancy is a lie. You don’t like lying because you know the consequences of it all too well.

Somethin' happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

“Peeta I-…” You stutter, cradling your face with your hands to shield your defeated face from prying eyes. “You don’t want the Capital to think this is real, do you?”

'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

He sighs, gently holding your hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. His thumb trails across your cheek, swiping the salty droplets away before they have a chance to resurface. “I understand.” He mutters

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

“It’s hard to pretend to be in something you’re not, I get it.” He cradles your cheek, smiling sadly at you as you flutter your eyes open to look at him, his face drops. “Pretend to be in something I’m not?” You whisper, eyebrow raised in confusion. He pauses, his eyes sunken as a single tear slides down his soft cheek, voice croaking as he whispers “In love.”

And we run

You grab his hand and pull, fingers interlocking as the skyline etches away, replaced by the tall sways of green foliage in the forest. Stares of your newfound allies and the surveillance of the Capital and the people in Panem long forgotten in the back of your mind as you lead Peeta deeper.

Baby, I know places we won't be found, and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

“Where are w-“ Peeta’s voice trails off as you push up against a tree, chest pressed against his as lips attack his in a wordless promise, hands cupping his face. Your thumbs glide across the chubby flesh of his cheek, caressing so soft because you’re scared he’s going to break.

I know places

His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer, his soft lips departing from yours, foreheads resting against each other. “You’re right.” You whisper, eyes screwing shut as you sigh, your hands on the base of his shoulders. “I am in love.” Peeta sighs, his hold on your waist faltering. “I can’t pretend this is real because I don’t want to pretend, what I feel is real.” You give him an eskimo kiss, maintaining eye contact with him. “What I feel with you…is real.” You whisper, leaning up, your lips ghosting over his before you press against him again.

they take their shots, but we're bulletproof

Tears of an angel drip down onto your own face, you whine against his lips, pulling away to kiss the salty streams away instead, one by one until they no longer come back. He smiles at you, hoisting you up into the air, you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to gently sink to his knees, laying you down onto the floor.

I know places

He takes his time with you, because you both know in the end it’s only momentary. Large hands shifting you to your side, pulling the zipper to your bodysuit down, one hand on your stomach as he slides it off your shoulders. He kisses the exposed skin, gently nibbling on your neck. “Peeta..” You gasp, legs bent as you thread your hand into his hair, fear racking through your body when you wonder if this is being documented. You don’t even have to say anything before he reassures you, knowing just by your gaze “I know sweetheart, I know.” He whispers into your ear, hands ghosting over your bodysuit, and then he peels it off altogether. Soft lips dipping to suck on your nipple, his right hand cupping your other breast, rolling the other nipple with deft fingers. You whimper, eyes shut in pleasure.

It’s slightly darker out now, but you feel light. The orange sky highlights the contours of Peeta’s face. His brown eyes complimented by the soft hue. And when his head sinks between your thighs, kissing higher and higher up to your core, you can’t help but sigh. And then he touches you there. Hands digging gently into your hips, pressing you against his face as he kitten licks your clit.

He touches you, and it feels like you want to get married.

and you know for me, it's always you

You writhe beneath him, tugging at his hair with weak hands as you arch and moan. “Please…” You whisper, prying his face away from your core. He licks his lips, humming softly at the taste as he stands up. Peeling his own bodysuit off. Each inch of exposed skin is kissed by you, worshiped by your delicate hands. Your touch feels like heaven, and he smiles, he’s found his faith.

I know places

Hands trailing down his chest you pump his cock, mimicking his movements from before, kitten licking the tip. He threads his hands in your hair, stroking your hair as he whimpers. “You don’t have to do this for me…” You interject him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Please.” You whisper, pleading with him with a small pout on your lips. He nods softly, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, he watches you with patient eyes. You wrap your lips around him, maintaining eyecontact as you bob up and down his length. He moans, hand gripping tighter in your hair.

in the dead of night, your eyes so brown

Just like you did, he pulls you off, hand on the back of your head, the other on your waist as he places you down once again, you whine in protest and he giggles, prying your legs apart for his view only. “You’re beautiful, I forgot to tell you.” He whispers, slides in between your plump thighs. He rubs his length teasingly up and down your clit. You moan softly, hands trailing up and down his toned stomach. “Can I?” He whispers, hand on your breast as he dips down to kiss you again. All you can do is nod, watching as his eyebrows furrow as you looks at you. “You’re already pregnant so it’s okay if I…” He whispers teasingly, a smile of amusement gleaming in the moonlight. “Come inside.” You blush, tilting your head to the side to avert his burning gaze. Your surroundings fading into a meaningless blur as he sinks inside.

I know places

You moan loudly, his hand slapping over your mouth as he stills inside of you. “Gotta be quiet for me, ‘kay? Can’t have anyone hear us.” He whispers in your ear, teeth pulling gently at your earlobe as he slowly pumps in and out of you, hips pressing against the back of your thighs everytime he’s inside fully. “Peeta…if they can see us then why does it matter if they can hea- oh..” Words die in your throat as he circles your clit, his chapped lips marking you with love bites.

“Because I want you to be mine…my ears only that get to hear your cute little sounds, my hands only allowed to touch…” He pants, moaning and whimpering in the crook of your neck as he thrusts deeper and faster. You thread your hand in his hair, massaging his scalp as you claw at his back, moans of his name leaving your lips like a sacred prayer. “I’m yours, only yours.”

You feel the coil tightening in your stomach. You try to repress your noise but you can’t help it, you clench around his length, moaning softly as you orgasm. He follows shortly after, his warm seed pushed deep inside of you as he thrusts a few more times, prolonging your orgasm. You pull him by the nape of his neck, tongues clashing as you kiss desperately. He pulls out with a groan, his hands on your hips as his head hangs low. He grins at you, peppering your face with sloppy kisses as you giggle.

and I know for you, it's always me

You touched him and it feels like you know that he wants to get married.

He cradles you next to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, hand tracing patterns on your back. He chuckles softly, beaming brightly at you, eyes full of gratefulness. You lay there and start to giggle too, hand on his chest as you both stare at the sky.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He whispers, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “What?” You ask him in confusion, your eyebrows furrowed. “Your favourite colour, what is it? I’ve never asked.” He whispers, loving eyes staring into yours.

You hesitate, thinking deeply about it before responding.

“Orange.”

I know places

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Love them Well"

Part Two to Kiss Them Well

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, mentions of trauma, scars (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 482 words

Imagine he has his own share of scars. Be it a long one across his chest, several tiny ones across his arms, or a large round one on his leg that required months of physical therapy.

And they piss you off.

How dare someone even think to try to ruin or hurt someone so beautiful? You wanted to hunt down everyone who had and show them exactly what you were made of.

"Comes with the job, love," he said quietly to you one night. You had been looking at his scars for what felt like hours, learning the stories behind them, kissing them as he did yours. And growing more angry at the people who gave them to him.

"Yeah, well, it sucks," you grumbled.

He laughed then. A sound that you wanted to hear for the rest of your life even though you didn't believe you deserved it. You were sure you didn't deserve him at all.

He loves your scars because they show that you had survived hell. You hate his scars because of what he had to go through to get them.

But of course, that would never make you love him any less. Not by a long shot.

One night, you had stayed out later than you meant to, time had gotten away from you, and you couldn't help it. You stumble back into your home, exhausted, and find him lying down on the couch, shirtless(which was never a sight you minded), a random movie playing on the TV that he wasn't paying attention to.

It made you smile. It's the exact thing you did every time he was out late or away. You rarely slept in bed when he wasn't there.

It takes a while before he finally spots you, but he does.

"Hey you," he says, sitting up.

You walk up to him and stand in between his legs. His hands go up to your waist, and he sighs as he presses his face against your stomach. You put your arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head.

"What are you doing up?"

He looked at you and frowned. "Waiting for you."

"Why?"

You saw the scars tracing his body and felt that familiar rush of anger. But even that was overpowered by warmth spreading through you. He looked so tired but still stayed up nonetheless. It was a small thing maybe, but it felt as if you fell in love with him all over again. And yes, that included his scars.

"Why not?"

And you fell again.

"It's late."

"You wait for me," he argued.

"I would wait forever for you."

He looked surprised at that statement. You can't imagine why.

"Forever's a long time."

And again.

You trace his face with your fingers. You could spend an eternity tracing every line on his body. You would do so if the universe would let you.

"You're worth forever."

[writesick-lover]

Just One Date

Finnick x reader!

A/N: I honestly REALLY like this prompt and felt like it could work for Finnick! It's a bit too sudden, but I think that's kind of the charm of this whole idea, sudden, unexcpected but exciting ;) I might make a part two cause I think I built too good of a background for reader (at least in my mind) so please let me know how you like it!

Warning: a bit of swearing and mention of killing if you squint

Prompt: “I need just one date.”

“You think you can woo me with just one date?”

“Absolutely.”

➷ ➷ ➷ ➷

It has been years since the perfectly arranged hell for Finnick Odair had started. But who would have thought about it? That the Capitol's sweetheart, the youngest victor who stole thousands of hearts across the whole country, now suffered in the wealthiest part of Panem?  Unimaginable. To be drowned in gold and washed in blessings, to wake up every day and have his plate filled with food and enough water to drink and bathe in, even for the whole day if he wanted but hate every single minute of it.

And though it was hard to grasp, that was Finnick Odair's case. Because Finnick dreaded every upcoming moment of his life since he was brought from his games as the victor, the survivor. The bloodthirsty drive to live, once warming his heart that followed him through each step in the arena, has now subsided, trapped by an iron fist of fear and desperation.

He could vaguely remember the first time those feelings had settled in, spreading through his veins like poison as he left his firts customer's bedroom, making him loathe every breath taken in and out by his body ever since. That's when he knew he would have thrown everything beautiful about his victorious survival just so he could live again. But that just wasn't the case for Finnick Odair, it simply wasn't his fate. And while his life was partially in his hands, he mostly felt like the blood of whatever part of himself he had killed was preventing him from moving on, from fighting. Maybe he grew tired of it. Maybe he thought he had enough of fighting for his whole lifetime.

He watched from afar, how fond the Capitol had become of District 12's star-crossed lovers, Katniss and Peeta. And for the first time ever since he was 16, something had awakened in him, a hope, that maybe this could be the end of his show. That maybe the citizens of Capitol had found someone else to watch and obsess about and he could finally be free. But that thing, that hope, was killed before it could even be aflame.

As he turned around from the glamorous couple, his eyes fell on the darkened blue ones, hidden like snakes in the snow made of white hair. The disgust, the abomination, the darkness screaming nothing but death brought Finnick to the harsh reality, once his gaze was met with Snow's. He was never getting out of this train. Not alive.

Until the spark inside him ignited again.

It was the meeting of the previous victors, one to which the new love-struck victors were not invited, yet they still happened to be the centre of its talks. Thankfully, the space was filled with only the comfort of people Finnick had known for a while and who had known him. There was a certain silent alliance the victors had built over the years. As he passed the familiar faces, sending polite smiles here and there, he caught a face that was very unfamiliar to him. You were new there, you have won only two years prior to Katniss and Peeta, the 72nd hunger games, which happened to be the opposite of the 74th year's sensation.

Finnick could remember meeting you in the Capitol, you're terrified tearfilled eyes meeting his, billions of questions behind them making his stomach turn there and then. But now you seemed just stiff, your guard high up. He would even go to the lenghts of saying you had an intimidating aura around you.

You could feel his stare burning your skin, so you turned around to face him, your mouth shaping into a genuine smile as soon as you saw him, your eyes sparkling in recognition. That's what he was talking about. All that pressuring shell fell right apart when you smiled or opened your mouth, earning you tons of sponsors back in your games. When you sent him your smile through your tears back then, Finnick could feel the butterflies rummaging through his guts. "Who are you staring at, Finnick Odair," Johanna's low voice beisde his ear made Finnick jump. "Johanna," he groaned, rolling his eyes as his right hand fell on his heart.

"The deceitful seemed to have caught you're eye, hm?" That was your nickname. The deceitful victor. Finnick remembered the talks once your games were over. You were called two-faced, a liar, and while some of the Capitol's people found this feature of yours absolutely unacceptable, others found it intruiging. After all it was thanks to your deceit, that you had won.

"They just seem rather... lost," he hummed, shrugging it off and turning to face Johanna fully. "Didn't expect you to come here,"

"Neither did I myself," she snapped back, looking behind her. "Blight dragged me here," Her piercing eyes slowly turned back, burning a hole in Finnick's face, the sole proof of the little affection the woman had towards him. "Charming. Make sure to say hi from me," Finnick grinned as Johanna scoffed, placing her hand on her hip and rolling her eyes dramatically. He could only nod, leaving the victor from the 7th District be as he made his way through the party again.

"They just did it right," one of the men in the group behind Finnick stated loudly, alcohol audible on his tongue by the volume of his voice. "Getting Capitol into their story, creating a perfect ballad except both of them survived to live the happily ever after," Finnick stopped in his tracks, the glass full of liquid spilling a bit on the grass under him, as he halted too quickly, not entirely sober either. He groaned as some of the drink got on his shoes but it didn't stop him from listening closely. "Do you get it? They are not harrassed by Snow or anyone, except the Capitol's undying obssession. They just continued to live in District 12, leaving as if nothing happened, as if they haven't just dismissed the whole history of the hunger games," a woman shrieked. Finnick smirked. Imagine leaving like nothing happened. That would be nice.

"That would be nice," another boy voiced the same thought. "To leave and spend your life with someone like that. They survive the games with you so you have someone to lean on, support, love, Capitol doesn't bother you that much, just to see what you already do naturally, it's-"

Freedom, was the word on Finnick's tongue. He didn't hear the rest of the sentence as it was drowned out by the sound of Finnick's blood flowing, his heart beating out of his chest as his eyes widened. Freedom, support, protection- no more abuse, no more hell, just peace. Finally, a bit of peace for Finnick Odair. His head spinned, his stomach turning from the sudden imagination, a certain heat spreading through his body, coming from his chest. The flame burned, burned in his eyes as he looked around, his eyes falling on you.

You were perfect. Capitol didn't have an exact opinion on you which was hurting your reputation as one of the victors. You could use some of those blessings Finnick was showered with daily. And he could use you. As his freedom.

His fast loud steps made you turn just before he stopped inches away from you, his feet rocking him back and forth for a while until he stabilised himself. You smirked as you thought about whether he was drunk, wanting to talk with you, but you were sure he had to be when his words hit your ears.

"Come on a date with me,"

You couldn't help but let out a loud snort, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth, the noise still audible. "What the fuck," your eyes landed back on his, the dark browns burning like two coals. "You're serious?" you stopped laughing, your eyes widening at him. "Yes," he nodded, falling silent again, waiting for your answer. "Why?" was another question that slipped out of your mind. You seemed to have caught him off guard, his right leg now tapping nervously. It was a good question. He didn't know himself, why, he just knew he was drunk enough to come up with such idea and sober enough to make it work. But he didn't think of you're answer taking so long. And you partially enjoyed it, finally seeing that confident Finnick Odair uneasy, his state suddenly depending on your answer. It made you wonder what was in it for him.

"Why not?" he finally spoke, voice raspy.

"Why yes?" you retorted back, making him roll his eyes. "We barely know each other, and correct me if I'm wrong, but this is actually about fifth time in our lives we even acknowledged each other,"

"So? Please, Y/n. I need just one date," he groaned, taking a step closer, you refusing to back away. It was always games, everywhere you went, the play never stopped.

"You think you can woo me with just one date?" you lifted your eyebrow in disbelief.

"Absolutely."

➷ ➷ ➷

>>part 2

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

[undercoveravenger]

Hearts Aflame

Pairing: Peeta x Fire spirit!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Peeta bakes and meets a fire spirit who falls for him”

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here’s part 1 of your Halloween surprise, though there’s more to come. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Peeta had always been afraid of the basement in his parents’ house- dark and dingy and always a bit cold despite the fire raging away in the bulky furnace in the corner. Mostly though, he was afraid of whatever lurked within the flames in the furnace. He’d seen it once when he was a kid, glowing golden eyes watching him through the swirls of fire, only just able to make out the edges of the figure as it stepped forward, holding out a hand like it was going to get him. He’d turned and ran then, running away up the stairs and bolting the door behind him. Ever since then, he had done everything he could to avoid going back into the basement- offering to do his brothers’ chores in exchange to get one of them to go down there instead of him, hiding and enduring his parents’ punishments when he was found to get out of it. 

Now though, with District 12 in ruins and little but the foundations left of many of the homes of the village, he’s left waist deep in rubble and debris trying to take stock of what was salvageable and what would need to be completely rebuilt. He’s faced worse in the last year and a half of his life than what he thought he saw when he was little, so as much as unease is beginning to build in his stomach, he presses on, hefting charred beams out of the way as he tries to unearth what’s left of his family’s home.

His heart lurches in his chest as he moves a couple of splintered beams out of the way and reveals that same old furnace, the big glass window in the door spiderwebbed with cracks but otherwise unchanged. The fire inside had long gone out, but even still Peeta could see a faint glow from a couple of lightly burning embers. 

Almost without conscious thought, his fingers drift to the handle of the furnace. The cold metal bites into his hand just enough to get him to hesitate, but the promise of confronting his old fear has him pressing on, twisting the heavy metal handle and wrenching the door open. The gust of fresh air rushes over the coals, sending sparks skittering throughout the furnace and the few coals that had a bit of heat left flare up, shooting from the dim red they’d been glowing to a brighter gold and he can feel a bit of heat coming off of them now. 

As Peeta watches, something shifts within the waves of heat emanating off of the coals, shifting and rising from the pile of ashes to coalesce into something more tangible. It starts to take shape as it’s exposed to the air, smoke and sparks and flame cooling and hardening over into skin and hair and admittedly handsome features, completed by those glowing golden eyes that Peeta had remembered from all those years ago. 

The spirit steps forward, emerging from the furnace for the first time that Peeta knows about, standing tall before him with squared shoulders and a bright grin, and looking very nearly human for all that Peeta knows that he isn’t.

“Thank you,” the spirit says, voice low and warm like a fire crackling lowly in the hearth on a cold day. Comforting in a way you wouldn’t really think about but can’t help recognizing. “For freeing me.”

Peeta blinks then, startled by the calmness of the creature he’d feared all these years. “You were… trapped in there?”

He nods slowly, the glow in his eyes dimming to a soft (e/c) and Peeta really can’t find it in himself to be intimidated any longer, despite the creature’s power. “I was. I made a deal decades ago to help your father’s father succeed and he double-crossed me. I’d been there ever since, until you let me out.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peeta says because he can’t really think of anything else that he can say. “I’m sorry that I didn’t help you sooner.”

The spirit shrugs, bright grin sparking back to life and the spark in his eyes reigniting, “You didn’t know, I can’t hold it against you.” He takes a look around then, seemingly fascinated by all the changes from the last time he’d seen the outside world. He turns back to look at Peeta then, grinning softly as he takes Peeta’s hand in his, “There’s things that need taken care of now that I’m free, but I can assure you, this won’t be the last you see of me Peeta,” he presses a soft kiss to the back of Peeta’s knuckles and seems to spark along the edges of his figure, the firm outline of him breaking apart into little wisps and sparks of fire before Peeta’s eyes as he starts to dissipate, flaking away until all that’s left of the spirit are those glowing eyes, and then even those extinguish.

Feeling a little foolish for being afraid of the fire spirit all this time, Peeta finds himself hoping that he’ll keep his promise as he returns to his work.

[g4yforethan]

hi everyone !! sorry for being inactive for a while just a lot has come up in the last few days ;( thank u guys sm for the support on my last write and right now i’m finishing a request BUT i was thinking if u guys would want a josh hutcherson fanfic? fnaf? hunger games? lemme know ofc because right now i’m obsessed with him ;)) again love y’all and stay safe !!

[gogogodzilla]

peeta mellark being you to let him eat your 🐱

Just a Taste || Peeta Mellark

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, cunnilingus, porn with plot, panty sniffing, reader is wearing a dress, panty stealing masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

The stage of the training center under your heels was a familiar feeling. The stage lights shone brightly, and you squinted slightly as you walked out with Peeta hand in hand. The air practically crackled with energy as the booming applause from the audience of Capitol citizens nearly deafened you. 

Caesar Flickerman warmly welcomed both of you. He gave you a good-natured kiss on the cheek and shook Peeta’s hand. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how touchy the Capitol people were. 

Once the crowd settled down, Caesar gave the two of you a beaming smile. “It’s an absolute delight to have the two of you here once again,” he exclaimed and you wondered how he got his teeth to be so white. “The Victory Tour has been a success, wouldn’t you say? What has been the most memorable moment for you both?” 

Peeta squeezed your hand before answering, “As much as I’ve loved spending some time in all of the districts, the most unforgettable part was spending time with the person I love and sharing our love with the districts.” 

You feigned embarrassment at his words and looked away. You couldn’t avoid the heat that flooded your cheeks, which brought a boisterous laugh from Caesar. “You two are adorable. I love it!” he gushed. 

The audience cheered in response, and Peeta kissed your knuckles. After a few moments, Caesar settled the audience down and turned back to the two of you. “I’m sure you both know that we have immensely enjoyed seeing your love blossom in front of us. It’s truly a marvelous sight.” 

“Thank you, Caesar. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here with you and the rest of the Capitol citizens,” you give him a dazzling smile before turning to Peeta. “I am also incredibly grateful to be here with the love of my life. I couldn’t ask for anything better,” your gaze softens as you look at Peeta. The audience ‘awws’ and cooed at the two of you while Caesar pressed a hand to his heart. 

“Ugh, we can’t get enough of you two. What does the future look like for the two of you? I’m sure we’re all eager to see more of your love blossoming,” Caesar questioned and the audience buzzed with excitement. 

You shared a glance with Peeta. You gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and he turned to Caesar. 

“The future looks bright as long as I have my love by my side,” he answered, allowing a hush to fall over the crowd. Damn, he was good at this. “And I would like to have my love by my side for as long as we both shall live,” his voice trembled slightly as he pulled out a small velvet box. He got on one knee and looked up at you. Your hand covered your mouth in feigned shock. “My love, you have been my light in the darkest times, and I can’t imagine a future where you’re with me. Will you make me the happiest man in Panem and marry me?” 

Emotions swelled within you. Peeta was laying it on a bit thick, but you didn’t care. You nodded your head, forgetting to speak for a moment. He slightly raised his brow, and you forced yourself to speak. 

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding rapidly. Your voice returned and you spoke louder, “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

Applause and cheers thundered throughout the room as Peeta got to his feet and slid the ring onto your finger. Peeta’s smile was radiant as he pulled you into a kiss which caused the audience to roar even louder. You grinned as you kissed him back. You truly did care for him, and didn’t mind being stuck with him forever. You would’ve been dead without him. 

As you pulled away, Caesar dabbed his eyes theatrically and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Peeta kept his hand around your waist as you curled up against his side.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, a proposal during the Victory Tour! This is certainly a night to remember, wouldn’t you say?” Caesar beamed as he swept an arm out toward the crowd which roared in response. 

Peeta held you close as the interview wrapped up. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and you couldn’t fight the grin that graced your features. Eventually, your time with Caesar was over and you were ushered off the stage. 

Effie met you as you exited and she clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful work you two. Now, time to get ready for the reception President Snow offered to throw to celebrate the two of you. It’ll be a party of the ages,” she declared, walking quickly as you returned to your quarters. 

Cinna intercepted you as you stepped off the elevator. You clung onto Peeta’s hand until the last possible second. 

Cinna grinned as he led you away, “Don’t worry, you’ll have some time to catch up before we leave.” 

“Can’t I just wear what  I have on?” you thumbed the fabric of your dress as you walked, frowning slightly. 

He chuckled, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He led you to your room and helped you onto your podium in front of the mirror. Cinna got to work almost immediately, fluttering around you with practiced movements. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied his steps as he brought the dress over to you. He quickly got you changed, his gentle hands working wonders as the fabric draped over your body. Cinna’s hands danced delicately over your hair, weaving it into an elegant style perfect for the celebration tonight. 

“You look radiant,” Cinna complimented as he stepped back to admire his work in the mirror. 

You met his gaze in the mirror, a grateful smile on your lips, “It’s all because of you.” 

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and a knock sounded at your door. You both turned and Peeta poked his head in.  A soft smile made its way onto your features as he stepped into the room and finally got a good look at you. His eyes widened as they raked over your form, and your cheeks flushed. 

“You look…” Peeta’s words faltered as his gaze remained on you. “Wow,” was all he managed to come up with as he took a few steps toward you. 

Cinna chuckled, “I’ll let you two have a moment. You have 15 minutes before Effie’s going to come knocking.” 

He gave you a suggestive look as he left, and the flush of your cheeks spread. Peeta held out his hand so he could help you down, and you graciously took it. 

You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. “Portia outdid herself… You look amazing,” you grinned, tugging him closer. 

His hands wrapped around your waist, enveloping you like they had done so many times before. This time it was different though. The soft scent of his cologne engulfed you as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, but there was something more to it. Something hungry. 

“Is it bad that I’m glad we’re stuck together forever?” you whispered as you pulled away to catch your breath. 

He grinned, “You make marriage sound so pleasant.” 

You chuckled in response and pulled him into another, deeper kiss. You tugged him by the lapels toward your bed, acutely aware of the seconds ticking by before Effie would be knocking. 

His hands wandered across your hips as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your bed and you slowly fell back. You parted for long enough to scoot back and Peeta eagerly followed you. His lips were back to devouring you within moments. You let out a small noise as he slotted his knee between your legs, the smooth fabric of his slacks brushing against your inner thighs. 

 You pulled away, attempting to catch your breath. Something shifted between you, and your entire body seemed to hum with need. Peeta caged your head between his forearms and his nose bumped against yours. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you trailed off as Peeta scattered kisses across your neck. 

He grinned against your collarbone, “I’m sure they’ll understand if I want to take a few minutes to ravish my fiancée.” 

Your cheeks flared at his words. There had been rumors going around all tour that Peeta’s nightly visits to your room were far from innocent cuddling. You did little to dispel them, though. You couldn’t deny that this was the first time you’d felt this hunger for Peeta. 

He ran his hands up the bare skin of your thighs, and your heart fluttered. 

“Just a taste,” he murmured as he scattered kisses across your covered breasts and moved down your body. “Please, my love. I just need a taste.” 

He ran his fingertips over your thighs as he situated himself between them. You craned your head to look down at him, and the sight of him had heat pooling between your legs. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes you couldn’t resist, begging for permission to ruin you. With the slight inclination of your head, he was sliding the fabric of your skirt to the side, letting his hands wander across your hips and thighs. 

He pressed featherlight kisses across your inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin there. He wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them in place. His breath fanned over the thin fabric of your panties, and you instinctively clenched them together. His grip held you in place as you squirmed, aching for more. 

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your under and tugged them down and off your body. Your eyes widened as he brought your panties to his nose and inhaled your scent. He let out a noise that was something like a whimper combined with a groan, and you flushed. 

He set your panties to the side and settled between your thighs. A gasp escaped you as he swiped his tongue through your folds. His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to his eager mouth. His tongue worked relentlessly against your sopping core, circling your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 

You wanted desperately to tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, but you settled for the blanket below you. You were sure that Peeta’s prep team might have your head if you messed up his hair. 

You slapped one hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate pleas and whines that escaped your lipstick-covered lips. Peeta eagerly lapped up everything you were giving him, and his nose bounced against your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance. Peeta reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours, grounding you.

Peeta whined against you, sending vibrations coursing through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your hips jutted against him, grinding against his tongue. Every fiber of your being was tensed and ready to snap. 

Peeta’s tongue circled your clit once more, and your release had you arching against the mattress, pushing you closer to his mouth. Your thighs attempted to clamp around Peeta’s head as you spasmed against him. He helped you to ride out your high, and his fingertips dug into the plush of your thighs. 

After a few moments you stilled, and Peeta pressed comforting kisses against your inner thighs. You lifted your head to look at him, and your cheeks flushed at the sight. Your arousal had covered the bottom half of his face, and a satisfied grin covered his features. 

“You did so good,” he praised as he crawled forward to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and a groan left you. 

You were able to sneak in a few more lingering kisses before Effie’s knock sounded at your door. Peeta crawled off of you and helped you to the edge of your bed, your skirts only slightly getting in the way. 

He grabbed your panties before you could and shoved them in the front pocket of his suit. 

“For safekeeping,” he murmured with a grin plastered across his face as he leaned down to kiss you. You scowled at him in response but kissed him nonetheless. 

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the rest of your arousal off his face before neatly tucking it back in its rightful place. You shuffled to the bathroom to clean yourself up, returning moments later looking slightly more put together. 

Effie knocked once again, more insistently this time. You cringed, sensing the inevitable lecture you’d receive later. 

Peeta held his arm out for you to take, and you gladly clung to him. 

“Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s get this over with.”

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 3

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

"The female tribute for the sixty-fifth Hunger Games... Gwenn Livestone!"

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as soon as the name was spoken. It wasn't you; you were safe for another year. A pang of sympathy struck when you saw a younger girl crumble to the floor in sobs. Blonde and small, she couldn't have been any older than twelve. Her body shook violently in trembles, and her desperate cries filled the hall in echoes. Nobody spoke, only watched as the girl at her side, possibly a friend or classmate, attempted to get her back onto her shaky feet.

Two Peacekeepers strode over within seconds, grasping the young girl from under her arms and practically dragging her up the stairs of the stage. Her wails grew louder, and her face was streaked with hot tears. You watched as the two Peacekeepers roughly threw her to the floor in a heap, her crying out at the impact against her knees.

You noticed Electra Vantell, the escort for this year's tributes, visibly cringe at the noise. There was no sadness you could detect on her painted face, only the wide grin that practically split her face in half. She went to awkwardly cover her ears, waving her hand dismissively at the girl, Gwenn.

"Oh, hush now. You don't need to make your cries any louder," she spoke, and you watched as Gwenn tried desperately to hold in her tears.

Electra dressed head to toe in a twinkling blue as if to match with the sea. Her hair was styled as if to mimic the District Four waves, and you could faintly see the small details of what looked to be fish on her dress. You wondered how it could ever be comfortable to wear, your skin feeling itchy just by looking at it.

Clearing her throat into the microphone, voice chirpy as ever, she spoke.

"And for the boys..."

As if it were instinct, you turned your head to the left in search of a pair of green eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Through the crowd of boys, you managed to spot Finnick hidden within them a few rows back, however he wasn't looking at you. His gaze was set forward, stoic and hard, his shoulders tense with nerves. Usually, you could read Finnick easily, but now as you looked at him, you wondered what was going through his head. His jaw was clenched and hair dishevelled, and you found yourself unable to look away. Even as your stomach was churning at the small possibility, Finnick seemed to be holding his emotions much better than you.

Electra's voice broke your thoughts, and you watched with your heart hammering as she reached into the round fishbowl, digging her hand in and swirling the slips of paper around as if taunting. Finally grasping a small slip between her thin fingers, she eagerly unfolded it before reading over the name.

"Finnick Odair!"

The bile rose into your throat, heart plummeting like it had been ripped from you.

Finnick Odair was now a tribute.

You hoped, prayed, that it was nothing more than a horrible nightmare. A nightmare that you'd be able to laugh about with him when you woke up, but reality set in when you turned back to where you originally saw Finnick. He stepped out of the crowd and began walking his way toward the stage, no falter or hesitation in his steps.

This was very, very real.

He sauntered past, all eyes trained on him and even some small gasps emitting from the crowd. Finnick was a well-loved boy within the district. You could barely hold yourself up right when for only a brief moment, his gaze flickered to yours. Still, you couldn't place his expression, and it bothered you beyond belief. He shouldn’t ever have to be hiding his emotions from you.

You even felt the stares of many others on you - all filled with pity. It was no secret that the two of you were close. His gaze averted away from you quickly as he stepped up the short steps and stood tall beside a trembling Gwenn.

Despite the pain in your chest, despite the loss you felt, despite your fear, you didn’t feel any tears. You couldn't, wouldn’t cry now. You could only keep your eyes locked on him, looking over him and all his features as though it may just be the last time.

Perhaps it was.

You didn't listen to any more of Electra's ridiculous comments. You didn't even notice the hall slowly begin to empty out. It wasn't until you watched Finnick and Gwenn being escorted into a smaller room behind them that you were already moving on your feet, practically stumbling due to your knees nearly giving out.

You ran to the Peacekeepers stood in front of the door they'd just entered, the wood and paint chipped away with age. Your heart was pounding with fear, the thought that they'd leave without getting a goodbye was terrifying.

The Peacekeepers only stood in silence as you swallowed thickly, fingers itching to pull at your dress uncomfortably with every passing second.

"I need to see Finnick Odair. Please." Your voice cracked at the end, and this time you could feel the hot tears gathering at your waterline, threatening to spill. With only a curt nod, the first Peacekeeper swung open the door.

"Three minutes," he said behind the mask, but you were already running in before he could finish. You heard the door click quietly behind you, and looking over to your right in the small room, there he sat.

Finnick was already facing you, and instead of the stoic expression he held only minutes before, his face was streaked with tears. He was sat on a poorly made wooden chair, knuckles white as he clenched them into fists.

"Finn." Your voice broke, and your tears began to fall freely.

Upon hearing your voice, his head snapped up just in time to see you throwing yourself into his arms, sobbing. He held you tighter than ever, your tears soaking into the fabric of his sea-blue shirt. You felt his body shake in your hold as you grasped at him tighter, feeling his warmth and inhaling his scent.

"Please, Finn." Your voice was muffled with sobs, and you weren't even sure he could fully understand what you were saying. Not with him sniffling into your shoulder, holding back his own cries. "Please come back home.”

You pulled away only slightly to get a good look at his face. Despite his eyes being slightly red from crying, they were still their vibrant green.

He bit his lip, hard, looking at you as his gaze flickered over your face as if trying to remember every curve, every freckle, every dimple. He lightly shook his head, mind searching for words.

"I will," he assured. You could hear the unease in his tone despite him trying to appear confident. "I will," he repeated as if trying to make himself believe it. He even attempted to flash a small smile, though it barely masked his fear.

"You will," you confirmed with a wobbling lip. You glanced down at your hand, taking a step away from him and pulling off the small bracelet from your wrist. Finnick watched with furrowed brows as you took his hand into your own, placing the bracelet onto his wrist.

He examined it carefully. Seashells of varying colors and a small worn string. He knew this bracelet well.

He shook his head. "I can't take this, Y/N."

He tried to take it off, but you quickly stopped him.

"I want you to have it as your token." You attempted a weak smile. "It was important to my Ma; I want you to have it."

He stared down at it, glancing back up at you and pulling you into one last crushing hug. You accepted just as fast, your grip tighter when you heard the door swing open again behind you.

"Times up."

Before you were pulled away from him, he whispered one last thing into your ear.

“I’ll win, I promise.”

You felt your grip slip when the Peacekeeper took you by the arm, and the last you saw of Finnick was his piercing eyes locked on your own.

You didn't know whether you were relieved that Finnick quickly became a Capitol favorite or unsettled by the fact he was adored so much.

The first few days after Finnick had arrived in the Capitol, it was no secret that he quickly became a favorite. His charm, confidence, cunningness and striking looks had them obsessed. He showed none of the fear he held when you last saw him. He refused to let them see. Instead, as his carriage strode through the streets, he held his bright, dashing smile that caused for loud cheers and praise. His hand was up in the air as he waved into the crowd, though you knew Finnick all too well. You could see the hesitation in each wave through the small television in your home, the unease in his eyes behind every smile, the way his fingers gripped at the edge of the carriage like a source of stability.

They loved him, but for all the wrong reasons.

He was layered in beautiful fabrics, a combination of bright blues and greens as if to mimic seaweed and the shimmering ocean. A knotted rope dangled from around his neck like a necklace and his torso was left bare. Jewels and pearls were weaved delicately into the fabric at his waist that glimmered within the bright lights. Beside him, Gwenn was dressed mostly similarly, though her hair was curled into loose waves and adorned in seashells. The clothes she was dressed in did little to cover her body, and you couldn't imagine how she must've felt with all the prying eyes. She looked so tiny and out of place compared to Finnick who stood beside her looking tall and proud, shrinking into herself and hands desperately trying to cover anything they could.

Throughout the rest of the week, Finnick and the rest of the tributes hadn't been shown much. You figured it was because they'd be training within the Capitol, preparing for what the games were to bring. It made you physically ill, and every few hours you were running to the bathroom to empty the contents within your stomach at the thought. Your poor father had tried everything in his best efforts even whilst at work. He couldn't afford to take any days off, so he'd ask friends from your school to come and check in on you every so often. Later in the evening when he was home, he'd sit beside you and offer any bits of food he could get you to eat.

“You need to eat, baby,” he pressed his lips to your forehead as he held up a fork to put into your hand. You took it, but only poked and prodded at the food set on the plate before you.

“Finnick is strong and smart,” he said, hand brushing through your hair. “He’ll be fine.”

Even during the night, your father would slowly peek through the crack in your door only to find you curled up into a ball and crying into the sheets on your bed. All he could do was sit beside you and hold you close, murmuring apologies into your ear which only made you feel worse. Why was he apologising for things that were beyond his control? He shouldn’t have to apologise; it wasn’t him bringing you, or Finnick, this pain.

The day the interviews were being broadcast you were already at the edge of your seat. It had been a while since you'd seen Finnick’s face, heard his voice. The moment Caesar announced for the District Four male tribute to enter the stage, you nearly jumped off your seat when Finnick walked into view. Clad in fishing nets and seaweed-like fabrics, he strode in as if he'd owned the stage. Again, his expression held no signs of fear or anger, only the act that he'd seemed to have perfected for the audience over the weeks. Caesar's booming laughter filled the room at every one of Finnick's jokes and comments to the crowd. The Capitol's Sweetheart, Caesar had named him.

"Finnick," Caeser cackled, wiping away a fake tear. "Your District must love you! You do plan to win these games, don't you?"

Finnick, charming as ever, flashed a grin into the crowd. "Of course. I'd be leaving too many good things behind if I didn't. Plus, I made a promise.”

When the morning of the games arrived, you found that you didn't sleep at all throughout the night. Plagued with nightmares and what you hoped would never happen. You were a wreck. Your head was throbbing from days without proper food and water, and you were exhausted. The moment the games had begun to be live-streamed, you refused to move from your seat, gaze glued to the screen. A part of you wanted to watch, to ensure that Finnick was ok and well protected, though the other part of you wanted nothing more than to look away from the bloodshed and gore. You had to keep a bucket at your side, face pale and flushed.

The fear within you was haunting. You weren't sure how you'd cope if somebody were to drive a giant blade through Finnick's abdomen or watch as he struggled to survive without food.

The moment the gong had gone off; you watched as he launched himself off his plate and dashed toward the cornucopia. Within seconds there was death and bloodshed. You'd realized early on that Finnick had managed to join an alliance, retrieving a spear from within a crate and fending off anybody who came at him. Your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was about to burst out of your chest. Finnick was fighting off a girl, the one from District Six, you'd realized, and you swallowed thickly as his spear drove into her chest. Her body fell limp to the floor in blood, and you noticed the way he hovered over her, eyes trained on the crimson that spilled from her and pooled at his feet. Finnick was good at hiding his emotions, but you knew him better. You wanted more than anything to assure him, to help him forget his fears and worries, the regret in his gaze was almost haunting. Without a word, he drew the spear out from her corpse and made his way over to his formed alliance.

The arena was surrounded by water, small islands and tall trees. You began to have more hope that perhaps he really could win, even more so when he began to receive sponsor gifts; medicines, food, and a golden trident that was beautifully crafted and detailed. Finnick, though littered with cuts and small injuries, was easily making it through the days in the arena.

On multiple occasions, you’d been terrified that he wasn’t going to make it. Betrayed alliances, wounds beyond what his medicine could heal. You were relieved every time he managed to overcome what the gamemakers threw at him. Even now, as he stood over the corpse of the boy from District Two with his trident, the announcement confirmed what you'd been waiting desperately to hear.

Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth hunger games.

He was battered and covered in blood, no doubt exhausted and pained from all the injuries he'd gathered, but you couldn't have been happier. He was going to come home. You felt a pang of regret and selfishness. You wondered what Finnick would have said if he knew you were so relieved... ashamed? Disgusted? You weren’t sure.

After days of waiting, Finnick had finished his last interview with Caesar and stepped off the train into District Four. The moment he stepped off, he didn’t even get a chance to glance up before you were almost knocking him over, crushing him into a hug.

He was here. He was real. He was alive!

You swore you'd never been so happy to see anybody more than this. But as you glanced at him, your smile faded. His gaze shifted into an expression that, for once, you didn't know. His eyes were saddened and his face worn with tiredness. His arms didn't wrap around you like yours did, only stayed limp at his sides. He held his chin high, even as your grip slipped from around his neck, and you looked at him quizzically.

"Finn," your voice broke from happiness, confusion and rejection. Your eyes searched his own, looking for any hint of what he could be thinking. You were quiet for a moment, searching for words. "You’re home.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, his gaze flickering over the platform as if unsure where to look first. You supposed it must have been a lot for him to process.

This time, your voice was quieter. “I missed you.”

Finally, he looked at you, and for a moment you swore you saw his eyes soften. "I did too," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze flicked past you as if he couldn't bear to look at you anymore.

He was already stepping off the platform before you could say anything else. Confusion and hurt struck you like lightning as you watched his figure retreat into the crowd.

Maybe he really did die in that arena.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 23

Welp. I rushed through Catching Fire. Didn’t think we all needed to reread everything that happened in the games. This chapter is a little frantic, so I’m sorry if it isn’t as good as I hoped it would be.

XXIII: Crossing Out The Good Years

Her name was on my lips as we were shoved onto the train. 

Peeta held Katniss, trying to soothe her shaking. She kept giving me helpless looks, as if I had any power over the situation. If I did, I sure as hell would be in the Justice Hall with my wife and kid. 

Effie looked like she was nearly in tears, eyes flashing between the kids and I. I just sighed, beelining to the bar cart and pouring a hefty drink that would make Y/N shake her head. 

“What are they going to do to her?” Katniss whimpered, Peeta trying his best to whisper something soothing, to reassure her Twyla and Y/N would be fine. 

But we had all seen what happened in District 11. 

I was trying my very best not to break my composure. The next word to come out of any of them was going to send me over the edge. So instead I stomped to my chambers, and slammed the door. That should send a clear message. 

I didn’t see any of them until we reached the Capitol, spending the rest of the train ride locked in my room and drinking every ounce of liquor in the bar cart. Effie tried to get me to have dinner with them, knocking ceaselessly until I threw a bottle at the door, glass shattering as my answer. 

The moment we got to our quarters I called home. 

“We’re okay.” I had to give it to her, Y/N was quick with it. I let out the breath I’d been holding since I’d last seen her. My hands ran through my hair, a nervous habit I’d picked up after Lenore Dove’s death. 

Lenore Dove. 

If everyone thought I went off the deep end after she was murdered, they would be appalled to see how farther I could sink if I came home to Y/N or Twyla with even a hair out of place. 

I thought about the girl I’d loved less and less after my daughter was born. Her ghost that had once followed me to every room I was in appeared infrequently. My girls had a way of warding her off. 

The last time I had seen her clearly was the night Twyla was born. She’d smiled, the look of disappointment on her face vanishing as she looked over my shoulder to see the baby in my arms. 

They’re beautiful, Haymitch. Both of them. 

And she was gone. The ache in my chest for her would always be there, but her words had lessened it. The guilt I felt when I kissed Y/N became a pang, and then nothing at all. 

“You need to stay at the house. Go to the Hob once a week and grab groceries, ask Prim to watch Twyla. Do not touch anything the Capitol sends us.” My mind was in overdrive, voice firmer than I intended. I could practically feel her sigh at my words, like she had been anticipating my instructions. 

“I know, baby. I’ll keep her safe, I swear.” her words tore out my heart. Did she think I cared about her less than our daughter? There was no hierarchy in my heart, which solely beats for the both of them, equally. 

“Take care of you, Y/N. I need you safe.” She was silent for a minute at my desperate voice. 

“Of course. We’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” The both of us had avoided talking about what comes after this. She had no idea of the plan Plutarch had been cooking for the past few decades, the one that might finally go somewhere. 

Oh my love, we’re all coming home to you.

I typically didn’t like to hope for anything, nearly every life experience from 16 onwards had taught me not to. I didn’t fully trust that Y/N wouldn’t be torn from me, and the arrival of our daughter just made it worse. But where the distrust lived, hope started to bloom. The night of the Presidential party Plutarch had pulled me into his home, Katniss and Peeta dropped off in 12’s quarters. He’d gone over a plan, giving me shocking news that District 13 was still out there, under our feet the entire time. I didn’t believe him, scoffing and denying any part he wanted me to play. 

But then Beetee had shown me satellites he’d picked up. 

I had no clue what I was even looking at, utterly confused and looking to Wiress to explain them. She hadn’t been the same after her torture sessions from my games. Still, I trusted the woman completely, and her brains hadn’t been lost, just her social skills. 

Plutarch changing the rules of the Quell didn’t surprise me. He needed the most skilled people for the job if we were going to take down the games, his decades of relying on kids hadn’t worked out for him. I was prepared to go in, knowing deep down it was only my name in that goddamn bowl. I was the one Snow had been after, Katniss joining me. Peeta Mellark wasn’t high on his kill list, a victim of association, just like Y/N and Twyla. A means to punish us, nothing more. 

The kids and I met the next morning, Effie firing up the video of each victor they were up against. 

“We should watch some of their games, just to get a feel for how they fight.” Peeta had suggested, making Katniss and I squirm. No one particularly wanted to watch, but it was a necessary evil. 

I had never seen a couple of the games, either too young or just not born yet. I was shocked to see a young Mags on the screen, the same kind eyes and curly hair. We went down the list, hitting my games quicker than I’d liked. 

“We should watch it. In case they pull any tricks in from that Quell in this Quell.” Katniss said, voice unwavering and eyes glued to the screen. Every fiber in my body wanted to leave the room. I didn’t want to see them. I saw Maysilee, Lou Lou and Wyatt enough in my nightmares. 

It was a short recap, nearly the entire thing edited. One day I would explain to them the truth of it, but not today. 

They had made sure to include Wyatt’s death. 

“Is that…?” Peeta couldn’t help himself, blue eyes wide, mouth slightly hanging. Katniss’s lips were pulled thin, but I could tell from the small glint in her eyes she was shocked. 

“That’s Wyatt.” I answered simply. Watching him now made it ache worse than it did seeing his face go up in the sky. If only he knew Y/N was at home at that moment, pregnant with his child. Maybe he would have done something differently, been less resigned to his fate, stepped out of Lou Lou’s way. 

The room was quiet. No one dared to make a move, just watching as my abdomen was sliced open and Silka’s blade ricocheted off the forcefield. The cameras cut immediately after. 

Silence followed us all as we went through the next several games. Effie moved her mouse, attempting to click on Finnick’s games, but instead clicking on the 63rd. I stilled, face paling. 

“We don’t need to watch that one.” my voice was sharp at the yellow haired woman. She flinched, trying to click off. 

It seemed she didn’t need to. The screen was black, Video Unavailable. 

I had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the victor they killed. Carp Delmar, replaced by Finnick Odair. 

“What’s going on?” Katniss asked quietly, eyes furrowed as she looked at Peeta. He shrugged, looking towards me for an explanation. 

“That year’s victor isn’t around anymore.” Both kid’s faces dropped. They were under the impression we all were, victors were untouchable. 

“Was that?--” Peeta didn’t have to finish his sentence. I took a shaky breath. “Yes. Wiley was killed that year.” 

I stopped watching after that. 

The next few days were full of feeling out allies. Luckily, Katniss picked well. Everyone she wanted was in on the plan. 

I watched in the crowd as the Victor’s joined hands and made a statement. Katniss spun her fire into a mockingjay, which left me grimacing. Cinna would surely be killed for that one. I couldn’t help but smiled to myself when Peeta dropped the baby bomb on them, something he’d come up with the night before and fleshed out with me. 

It still didn’t stop the games. 

It was no shock when Effie told me Cinna was, in fact, dead. Plutarch had pulled me in for another late night meeting on the first night of the games, catching me mid drunken stumble back to my room. Mags death had broken something inside me further, even if it was inevitable. He spent the rest of the night detailing what was going to happen. 

I only wrapped my head around some of it. Beetee and his wire, cutting the trackers out, Katniss hopefully cooperating exactly how we needed her to. By the time the wire was strung on the tree I would be boarding the hovercraft Plutarch had arranged, which would be stopping at 12 to pick up the my family and the Everdeen’s, swooping back to grab the Victors and jetting off to 13 before Snow had a clue where we’d gone. 

It was a solid plan, one Plutarch had rerun over and over until it was perfected. Not a single inch left for error. 

The days until then had moved at a snail’s pace. I couldn’t communicate with Y/N, refusing to risk it. I would give her a call a few minutes before it was set in motion, letting her know I’d see her very soon, praying she’d get the hint. I begged Plutarch to let me tell her something earlier, anything so she could anticipate our arrival. 

“Haymitch, we can’t. Snow is on high alert, any calls made, especially by you, are going to be monitored.” 

The worst part of the games had been the jabberjays. 

Katniss and Finnick were trapped in that portion, Annie, Prim and Gale’s voice echoing screams through the arena. 

Right before it ended another sound rang through. My wife’s voice. Then my daughter’s. 

I had nearly taken out a peacekeeper to get to Plutarch, thrashing against them as they dragged me away from the gamemakers room. 

I knew realistically they had just taken a snippet of their voices from interviews and altered them, feeding them to the birds. 

Still, it was haunting. 

I refused to watch more after that, opting to stay in my room, leaving Snow under the impression that he had destroyed me again. 

The phone rang on the third day. Plutarch’s voice coming through. “It’s time.”

My hands shook as I tried to call home, the line ringing and ringing. Plutarch’s assistant, a nameless woman I had seen with him for years now, put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me with her as we ran down the halls. 

I rushed to the hovercraft, boarding in seconds, meeting him on the plane. 

“13 has hovercrafts on the outskirts of 12. Snow just gave the order to drop bombs. We have minutes, but we’re going to make it.” I just stiffly nodded at him, pacing the floor as we took off. The phone hadn’t picked up, Y/N had no clue we were coming. My heart was rapid, the sinking feeling settling into my bones. She’s with Astrid and Prim. She’s at the hob maybe, but we have enough planes, we can get to her. I’ll tear through the whole fucking district if I have to, we will FIND HER. 

People filed into each craft, looking worse than I’d ever seen them. Families I’d known my whole life, shell shocked as they were quickly ushered in. We had a matter of seconds before the first bomb went off. 

Finally, Primrose, Astrid and Gale hustled on, my eyes widening as I frantically searched them, looking for Twyla and Y/N. 

I caught my baby girl huddled in Astrid’s arms, wrapped up in her coat. 

“Daddy!” She wailed, pushing and screaming for me, Astrid shakily lowering her to the floor so she could run to me. I snatched her up before she had a chance to fully get to me, holding her tight as she sobbed into my chest. 

“It’s alright baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s here now.” I cooed, eyes still searching the files of people boarding. 

“ASTRID!” I yelled, pushing past them to get to her. My brows were furrowed, hair a mess from running my hands through it while pacing on the ride over, Twyla clinging to my chest. 

“I– Haymitch I don’t know— She wasn’t….” Astrid attempted to tell me, eyes full of tears while Prim clung to her. 

“What the fuck are you saying right now?” I barked, looking to Gale for coherent answers, his face was solemn.

“Twyla was in the house by herself. I almost missed her, she crawled out from under the couch at the last minute. It was a mess in there, I think….” 

My heart stopped beating. 

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence.” I growled, Twyla still wracked with sobs in my arms. 

“Daddy… I hid. I hid, daddy. Mommy told me to hide.” She wailed, my body freezing at every word that left her tiny mouth. 

They had her. 

[freak-accident419]

Soft Spot

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: After a long, frustrating day of work, Derek comes back home to you for comfort. Being the tough, asshole-ish, and reckless man he was on the outside, he easily melts into you with sweetness and submission. After all, he had such a soft spot for you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: fluff, gender neutral reader, cuddling, cursing, reader babying Derek, reader feeding him cherries (putting their fingers in his mouth, wow) but it’s not sexual (maybe only slightly suggestive), reader and Derek are engaged already, basically tooth-rotting fluff and intimacy, short but sweet

-

You were laying on the mattress in the bedroom that you and Derek shared, looking down at your phone while eating cherries from the nightstand. There was a sweet domesticity to it—you in your pajamas, snuggled up in bed, waiting for your boyfriend (or rather, fiancé) to come back home.

Derek had a long, exhausting day of work. He thought today was going to be like every other day, relaxed and held back, but instead, he had to deal with so much bullshit from Danforth Enterprises, including international affairs and money complications. And his employees made things even worse, their incompetence driving him insane until every sentence he spoke had at least one “fuck” in it. And not only that, but UDG and Nine Star were experiencing setbacks and issues that could have probably been easily fixed if it wasn’t for his idiotic employees. After an entire day of yelling at his absentminded workers with hostility, he was so desperate to just come home to you.

It was only until the evening when you finally saw Derek in the doorway of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked… rough, to say the least, despite the fact he was wearing a fancy and highly expensive black suit. He was still very attractive, of course, especially in that suit, but right now he just looked utterly exhausted. You turned off your phone, placing it face down on the nightstand to give him your full attention.

“Hey, my love,” you coo softly, smiling up at him.

“Hey, babe,” he mumbles tiredly, slowly walking towards you.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here,” you grin, grabbing him by his black necktie to bring his lips to yours, sharing a brief, soft kiss. Then he lazily went into bed, melting into your arms with his head buried in your neck. He melted into you entirely. He felt comforted and warm in your embrace, the tension in his muscles gradually dissipating.

“They didn’t keep you too long, did they?” You ask gently, holding him closely as you caress his hair.

“They totally did, Y/n. Today was a fucking mess,” he huffs, yet already too relaxed to even raise his voice. “I swear, baby, these guys are so fucking incompetent and can’t do their goddamn jobs. Those fucks give me such a migraine.”

You continue to stroke his hair and then his face. “Aww, my poor baby,” you coo soothingly. Derek loved all of it, leaning into your touch and just being limp in your arms. However, he would shoot anyone else who witnessed him in this state. “Westwyld just hired a whole bunch of idiots. He’s even an idiot himself. It’s none of your fault, my love.”

He sighs softly, nuzzling into your neck further. “I know,” he mumbles dismissively. “But it’s just so fucking frustrating because I feel like I always have to do everything ‘cause they keep fucking things up. Like, what are we even paying them for if they can’t do their fucking job?”

You chuckle under your breath. “I know, honey, I know,” you whisper. “Well, that’s why you’re the CEO, yeah? To keep everything, you know, all balanced and orderly?” He hummed in understanding. You look over to the nightstand, then grabbed a cherry from the box. Derek noticed this action and pulled his head out from your neck, now sitting up against the bed frame. You then guided the small, red fruit to his lips. “Open,” you order in a gentle voice.

You watched him open his mouth and you placed the cherry in, letting the stem rip off, placing it in a bowl for stems and pits. He began to chew it slowly, indulging in the sweet and juicy sensation in his mouth while also enjoying the fact that you were feeding him. The cherry tasted different than any others he had tried, all sweet with no bitter or even slightly tart aftertaste. “Mm, these are good, where did you get these?” He asked with a mouthful of cherry flesh, his speech slightly muffled.

“Hm, it was a shipment from Japan,” you answer. “I think they’re, like, the most expensive cherries in the world… Open,” you say again, letting your fingers enter his mouth to grab the pit, placing the seed in the bowl on the nightstand. In the few seconds your fingers were in his mouth, it was arousing and suggestive, to say the least. But all you wanted to do right now was to take care of him with the least amount of energy possible. If he was fatigued, then you should let him rest.

“I can’t believe I’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering down to his shiny silver engagement ring.

“And I can’t believe I’m marrying you, my love,” you chuckle, kissing his cheek, reaching over to the nightstand to grab another cherry. His lips parted, letting you place it in his mouth, eating it contently. “How did your day go, baby? Like, before everything went to shit. Tell me all the good.”

After he ate most of the cherry’s flesh, he let your fingers in his mouth once more, removing the pit and placing it in the bowl. There was something so curiously intimate about this moment, feeding him, removing the pit for him, and holding him close.

“Had my usual coffee,” he answers quietly.

“Oh yeah? Your flat white with oat milk?”

“And extra shot of espresso—”

“—extra espresso, yes,” you giggle, stroking his hair once more. “How much espresso does one need? Like, flat whites are meant to have a higher espresso-to-milk ratio, yet you still want more.”

He pouted, looking at you from the side. “But it’s good.”

“Do you even need to say ‘extra shot of espresso’? Like, as a flat white, I’m pretty sure they’re adding more espresso than, say, a latte,” you grin.

“I know, but I want more than usual, like, more than a flat white,” he reasons, yet his delivery suggesting that he was lying.

“Wow. You’re just greedy, aren’t you?”

“You know me,” he mumbles.

“You don’t know the difference, do you? Is that why you always ask for an extra shot, just to make sure?” You say, calling him out.

He just pouts silently at your teasing, which only amused your further. “You’re a dork,” you giggle.

“Meanie.”

“You’re the meanie. You never answered my call,” you utter. It was true. He was too caught up with work that he didn’t even know you called him up at that time.

“Oh, shit…” he sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I was just so busy today, I totally forgot to get back to you.”

You frown. “Hey, no, don’t—don’t apologize, I was just teasing. I know how busy you were today and I’m sorry that you were surrounded by idiots. You’re okay.”

“Okay.”

For one last time, you grab a cherry, guiding it into his mouth. You wait for him to chew it until you’d take the pit out from his mouth. You wipe some of the fruit’s juice off the corner of his lips, but suddenly, his mouth welcomes in your fingers once more, sucking lightly on your fingertips before you pulled them away to kiss his lips passionately. It was a patient, loving kiss, your lips moving slowly with his as you savored the cherry taste on him.

You had him in an embrace in one arm and the other was occupied by cupping his face gently. Your touch was tender, making him feel comforted and warm. You looked closely at his face, absorbing all of the details. You could see the faint freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. He was so close to you. And he was beautiful.

“Hi,” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers back.

“You’re so cute,” you comment.

You caress the side of his face as he enjoyed feeling your soft palm and fingertips graze his cheek. His eyes closed sleepily, completely infatuated with your soothing touch and the way you encompassed his body. You pressed a kiss on the top of his head. And again. And again.

He felt small.

Like, smaller than usual.

He was completely vulnerable with you and it was freeing. This was a part of him that nobody else but you knew about. He could curse and be a privileged, arrogant dickhead whenever he pleased, but at the end of the day, he is always succumbing to your embrace and warmth. He was indisputably smitten with you—infatuated, even. You were the only person he could be fragile around.

“You know, your mom is always on my ass about you,” you chuckle, pressing two soft kisses on the top of his head as you pet his curls.

“Huh? I thought she liked y—”

“No, no, it’s not like that. She just asks me about you all the time. How you’re doing and everything.”

“Oh.”

“I think it’s because she knows you only open up to me,” you point out.

“Yeah, well… She’s been busy her whole life. I’ve never gotten the time to… You know… Actually have a full, authentic conversation with her.”

You kiss the top of his head once more, then let your head rest on it. “Mommy issues?”

He hums in response.

“Does the fact that she and Westwyld having some weird thing—in the past, at least—also affect your relationship with her?” You ask curiously.

“Well, sort of. I don’t know, he always acts—”

“He tries to act like a dad to you, yeah,” you giggle.

There was a silent pause as you two just cuddled each other, Derek, especially, feeling safe in your arms.

“Stop investing in crypto,” you murmur, stroking his hair.

“Mm, stop crushing my dreams,” he grumbles wearily.

“Your ‘dreams’ would get us broke if you weren’t already a billionaire.”

He chuckles and you proceed to caress him gently, observing him silently.

“S’it too hot, my love?” You inquire gently, beginning to help him remove his tie and then his blazer once he nodded. “Better?” He hummed as you placed the clothes at the end of the bed and went back to cuddling him.

He was closer than before, laying down beside you with his face buried into your neck. He held onto your waist tightly as if you’d disappear any second, and your arms wrapped around him generously. You press a soft kiss to his forehead and hold him warmly.

“You’re going to be my husband…” you whisper sweetly, kissing the top of his head once more.

“Mm, you’re going to be my spouse…” he mirrors.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so much.” Derek mutters sleepily, melting into your touch.

You rubbed his back, letting your head rest against his. Until finally, after peppering his face and head with kisses, you two fell asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe and secure.

[imagine-you]

I'm Coming For You and I'm Making War [Johanna Mason/Reader] (1/5)

Summary: An orphan from District 10 was no one's pick to win the 68th Hunger Games, but you managed to prove them wrong. You're not impressed with the glitz and glamor of the Capitol and you certainly don't want any of the expectations that come with being a Victor. Not even Finnick Odair's friendship can make you feel any less alone until you meet Johanna Mason. She's everything you didn't know you needed, but when rebellion stirs in the districts after Katniss Everdeen's act of defiance in the 74th Hunger Games that guaranteed not only her survival but Peeta Mellark's as well, it turns out that you might have to face Johanna, Finnick, and everyone you've grown to care about in the 75th Hunger Games. Word Count: 9k Author's Notes: This all started because of a gifset that came across my dash one day and it got the fic plotting wheels going in my brain and here we are. I always thought my first Hunger Games fic would be Finnick/Reader, but Johanna stole my heart and I had to go with this idea. If you like this, please let me know by commenting/reblogging. It would mean so much to me since low reader engagement has really killed my motivation. Title comes from Irresistible by Fall Out Boy.

Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four -- Part Five