#katniss looking at him n saying ‘i do. i need u.’

[astrobei]

when byler has this conversation in season 5

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

[ilguna]

☼ support (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; ‘ hi i was wondering if u could like do a finnick×oc where the mc is haymitchs daughter and she and finnick meet in district 13 and the two are really close and we see the scene where finnick ia talking about what the capitol made him do and how the mc reacts to it and soemthin a little angsty? (annie isnt in the pivture btw) i understand if u dont get the time to do it but yk i was just thjnking about something based on this :)) ‘ by anon

warnings; swearing, MENTIONS OF PROSTITUTION

wc; 2.5k

--

As you move down the stairs, hands ghosting the railings, you recite where your dad has told you where to find Finnick in the bunker. Even though the attacks were yesterday, Coin’s decided to go ahead and let everyone stay down for another day just to be safe.

You’d be down there too, if it weren’t for the fact that your dad, Haymitch, would rather you stay close to him. You can’t really blame him, you don’t like to wander far from him, especially not here in District Thirteen. It’s easy to get lost, as you discovered, and you don’t want to end up turned around again.

However, if an errand needs to be run, then you don’t mind, especially with how urgent this one is. If they want to rescue Peeta and the other victors, they’re going to need help. And after watching Katniss vanish into the bunker somewhere this morning, there needed to be a replacement. 

Your dad isn’t much for entertainment, and you aren’t either. There’s nothing you two can say that'll lead to a good enough distraction, which is why Plutarch came up with a vague idea. He wouldn’t explain it in detail to you, so all you know is that it involves Finnick, and he’s the last resort.

Before you left, it was clear that your dad wasn’t happy about it. It was too late to call you back, though, you were already out the door and on your way to get Finnick. It wasn’t until you got started down the stairs, when you realized that there is likely someone who would’ve been faster than you. And that you were the first to go so that they could talk privately.

As if you couldn’t have just gone to bother Beetee instead.

You come upon the last flight of stairs, being able to see the doorway to the bunker. There are two people standing near the door, looking eerily similar to peacekeepers. The only difference is that they’re more friendly, they give you a smile when you pass them. After that, you take a sharp right and move through the bunk beds, eyes searching.

You were told that there’s a great possibility that he’s towards the very back on the right side. It would be easier if Coin had them numbered or something, so that you could just find the row and look for the number that Finnick’s been assigned. You suppose that would be too easy, though.

Once the far wall comes into sight, you begin searching for Finnick. Dad took a guess that he’d be awake at this time, so he should be one of the few people awake at this time, which narrows down a lot, actually.

You stop in the middle of the aisle, taking one more sweep of your surroundings. When you see a man hunched over, moving something in his hands, you automatically know that it’s Finnick. Your suspicion is confirmed when he looks up as you approach him.

Finnick gives you a smile, “Hey, (Y/n).”

“Hey, how are you?” you ask, hands disappearing behind your back.

“Good, I guess,” he holds up the rope in his hand, which is tied into a knot that you can’t name, “tying knots to pass the time. Katniss isn’t here, if you’re looking for her.”

“I’m not here for her, I was looking for you.” you smile, “It’s a long story but Plutarch and my dad want to ask you a favor, it’s important.”

His eyebrows raise, lessening the dark look on his face, “Now?”

“Yeah, I’ll take you right to them, if you’ll follow me.”

Finnick nods, tucking the rope into his pocket. He follows you all the way out of the bunker and up a couple of flights of stairs before he speaks again, “Do you know what it is?”

“Well, they just approved a rescue mission, so it has something to do with that,” you glance at him, and by the way his face twists, you realize that he probably didn’t know that, “Do you want me to start from the beginning?”

“If you could,” he says.

“Okay, well the Capitol’s defense is down right now because of some power outage in District Five. Plutarch heard that the victors are in the Tribute Center, and after a few people volunteered to get them out, the mission was approved by Coin.”

“I think they’re beginning to rub off on you.” Finnick muses.

You elbow him, “Anyway, Katniss got upset this morning so they don’t want to push her anymore. And since dad has been out of the spotlight for years, and I’m just his daughter, we aren’t entertaining enough to be a distraction.”

“But I am.” Finnick finishes.

You frown slightly, leading him to an elevator so the two of you can stop going up the stairs, “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what Plutarch was thinking, though, right?”

“I think so,” you push the button, “They’ll be able to explain a lot more than I can. All I was told was that I needed to go grab you. Plutarch wouldn’t talk to my dad until I left the room.”

Finnick’s eyebrows draw in, mouth turning into a straight line. He must have a clue what they want out of him, then, because you don’t see any other reason why.

“How have you been liking District Thirteen?” you ask, pulling up the elevator door.

The two of you head inside, and he helps you shut the doors, “It’s no District Four.”

“Missing the water?” you joke, pressing the button.

Finnick mocks your face, “Do you even know how to swim, Miss Abernathy?”

You stare at Finnick for a long second, “Don’t call me that.”

“You’re ignoring the question.”

“I was getting there, thank you,” it’s your turn to mock him, “And yes, I do know how to swim.”

“Not very well, I’m guessing.”

“I never claimed to be a professional.”

With the elevator stopping, the two of you step out, with you still leading to the room where your dad, Plutarch and Beetee should be with the camera crew.

“What about you, (Y/n)?” Finnick asks, “How are you liking Thirteen?”

You shrug, “I wouldn’t say it’s a life of luxury. It might not have been perfect in District Twelve, but it had it’s charm. I miss my room, and my plants.”

“Plants?”

“Yeah, I had a whole sunroom dedicated to them, since dad didn’t really use any of the extra bedrooms much, besides the obvious places.” you turn a corner, “I spent most of my time in that room, had every plant native to Twelve. It was quiet, there was a fountain in the middle of the room, I’m sure you would’ve liked it.”

Finnick is smiling when you look at him again, “Did you have any pets?”

“Nope, unless you want to include the rat that lived in the cellar,” you laugh, he does too.

Everyone is still standing in the general area that they were before when you get inside. And with your arrival, they drift in your direction, which makes you move out of the way so that they can talk to Finnick. You’re not really a component in this conversation.

It goes exactly as you had told Finnick, that Plutarch is looking for a distraction to keep the Capitol busy while the volunteers head inside of the Tribute Center. At first, Plutarch beats around the bush, until finally saying, “I was hoping you’d have some stories to tell.”

Your dad immediately sends Plutarch a look, one that you normally receive if you’ve done something that he doesn’t necessarily approve of. It’s funny watching him give Plutarch the look, considering that it doesn’t hold much weight. You guess that it does convey his message, though.

On the other hand, Finnick pales. He stares at Plutarch, not saying a word.

Plutarch seems to notice his mistake, “If you’re comfortable, that is. If not, we could always find someone else.”

You look at Finnick, his face is twisted, but he’s nodding, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” your dad asks.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

--

Initially, you were going to keep close to your dad and wait for him to come back into the control room after finding Katniss. However, before you even had the chance to tell the others, Finnick was asking if you’d stay with him, instead. Mostly because it was just going to be him, the camera crew, and Effie Trinket, Katniss’ Capitol escort.

With the way that the conversation had gone inside of the bunker, you weren’t entirely sure if you’d wanted to say yes, once you realized that he was asking for your support, it was a little impossible not to agree. You and Finnick might not have known each other before District Thirteen, but during these past few weeks, you’ve become attached.

He needed a friend, and you were a breath of fresh air.

You fix the jacket on your shoulders, hands tucked into your pockets. When you were told that it was cold outside, you didn’t believe them. Now you do, since it’s going straight through your jacket and right to your body.

In the crater that the Capitol had formed with their missiles, lie chunks of concrete debris. The camera crew has already set up lights, which allows you to see just how many white roses they dropped. You’re only a few steps out of the bunker, and you already stop.

“What’s that smell?” you ask, face twisting when you reach for your nose. 

“Perfume,” Finnick stops by you for a second, “Snow’s signature scent.”

“He couldn’t have picked anything better?” 

Finnick cracks a smile, laughing, “Apparently not.”

“(Y/n), you can sit right here,” Cressida motions to a chunk of concrete, “So you’re not in the shot, you should be able to see him from there.”

“Sounds good,” you follow the direction.

They go deeper into the crater, “Okay, Finnick?”

“Yeah,” Finnick nods.

“Go in the center there,” Cressida points, “those rocks.”

Finnick wanders, stopping where the light is the brightest.

“Castor, left. Pollux, you’re with me.” she stops behind a light, “So we’ll go straight to camera, okay?”

Finnick is looking off to the side, thinking.

“Finnick?” she asks.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, take your time. Just remember to keep talking and don’t stop.”

He gives you a look, you nod, placing your hands between your thighs to keep them warm. You’re not sure if you were the best person to have as support, but you’ll do your best.

You give him a smile.

“This is Finnick Odair,” he begins, “Winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games. And I’m coming to you from District Thirteen, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.

“Instead, I’m going to tell you about the nights and the stories I’ve heard. The truth, not the myths about a life of luxury. Not the lie about glory for your homeland. You can survive the arena. The moment you leave, you’re a slave.”

Finnick pauses, giving you a glance. You nod as encouragement.

“President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

Your face falls, blood running.

“I wasn’t the only one, if a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, then he kills someone you love.” he presses his lips together briefly, “So you do it.”

You knew that the Capitol was bad, how awful they could be to their Victors. You might not have experienced it first hand, but your dad has. He told you what they did to your family before you were born. How all he did was use a mistake in his games, and suddenly his mom, brother and girlfriend were killed.

You don’t envy the Victor’s, you never have. And this is one of the many reasons why.

“I wasn’t the only one, but I was the most popular,” Finnick says, the emotion beginning to fade, “And perhaps the most defenseless, because the people I loved were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.

“Secrets,” he says the word with a smile, “And this is where you’re going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you. Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That’s all you really need to know. Poison.

“There are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. Even to allies who were threats. Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume,” Finnick gives you a sly look when he says that, reminding you of what you said when you first walked out, “Help cover up the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal.

“But he can’t hide the scent of who he really is. He kills without mercy, he rules with deception and fear. His weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.”

Finnick opens his mouth to continue speaking, but Cressida holds out her hand to stop him. One of her fingers is pressed to her ears, face twisted in confusion, “We’re off, they’re experiencing a disruption.”

You straighten up, “What do you mean?”

“Power is back on,” she looks up, “Katniss is going to try and distract them instead. We should go back inside.”

“Oh,” you say, slipping off the rock, “Okay, yeah. You guys can go in without us.”

Cressida hesitates, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you wave, smiling, “It’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

With an agreeing nod from Finnick, the crew leaves you guys in the crater. You watch, waiting for them to pull the door shut before you begin. Once you hear the familiar creak, you turn to Finnick.

And open your arms for a hug.

He tilts his head, not sure at first, so you go ahead and take the initiative. He hugs you back, letting you squeeze him.

“I’m probably going to be the first of many, still I am so, so sorry Finnick,” you say, “And I will never truly know what it’s like to go through what you have, but I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to, okay? Whenever you want.”

When you pull away from the hug, Finnick’s got watery eyes, nodding. He lets out a laugh after a moment, wiping the tears before they have a chance to come out, “Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.” 

[hutchhitched]

Don’t Talk To Me

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 76: Modern a/u Katniss is getting over the loss of her sister (you decide how) when she meets Peeta. She’s closed off but he finds a way in. Maybe she works for him? Him for her? Maybe she cries herself to sleep on his bread scented shoulder? (Please yes I need that) [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: Y’all... It’s finally here. This is story number nine from the nine prompts I claimed for the 2020 @everlarkficexchange and then lost the will to write during the early months of the pandemic. I wasn’t sure I’d get here, but it’s happened. This is not the story I intended to write when I took the prompt, but sometimes the muse takes control, and I simply follow. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays and @endlessnightlock for being supportive of my plot change.

Katniss Everdeen hates people. Well, that’s not exactly true, but she doesn’t exactly like them either. They’re too…human or whatever. Too many acquaintances. The last thing she wants to do is get close to any of them, especially after the events of the past few months. She’s barely holding it together as it is, and introducing people or, even worse, friends could tip her right over the edge. She values her sanity.

 That’s probably why the new, sweet, disgustingly optimistic, overly friendly hire at the coffee shop where Katniss works irritates her so much. He’s just so nauseatingly earnest. It makes her want to punch him in the face.

 “How’s my favorite barista today?” he asks when she joins him behind the counter while still tying her apron. She mumbles noncommittally, but he doesn’t seem at all deterred. “I like that sweater.”

 “Peeta,” she says as she attempts to maintain control of her temper. He looks at her with such eagerness, she wilts under his obvious enthusiasm. “I’m just… It’s not a good day. Can we not?”

 His face falls, and she almost relents. She doesn’t know what it is that’s convinced him she’s someone he needs to befriend, but she simply has no interest. She doesn’t want more entanglements. They hurt too much.

 “Sorry,” he whispers and turns away. She swallows a twinge of guilt for hurting his feelings, but she doesn’t yield. Instead, she pivots to the espresso machine and starts making coffee. They work together silently, their only conversation about drink orders. They move around each other easily with no uncomfortable bumping or banging elbows or shoulders. He’s a good worker, at least, and he knows how to take a hint.

 “See you tomorrow,” Peeta says softly as his shift ends, and she flashes a brief smile. She doesn’t want to be rude, but come on. He doesn’t have to be friends with everybody.

 It continues like that for months, him fruitlessly friendly and her taciturn and distant. He continues to pursue a friendship, never pushing or prodding, simply being there and consistently showing kind. It’s exhausting.

 “How do you manage to stay so sickeningly upbeat?” she asks finally after several days of wanting to scream. He wears her down. She’d tell him to stop, but she’s starting to think she might like his optimism a little bit.

 He pauses for a second to glance at her before returning his attention to slipping sleeves onto the cup he’s holding. He calls out the order and smiles at the customer before answering. “What’s the other option? Being miserable?”

 “Well, I’m pretty good at it.”

 “I don’t think that’s true,” he argues softly. “I think you’ve had a rough time, and you’re grieving and healing. No one begrudges you that.”

 She gapes at him for a few seconds before snapping back to attention. The last thing she needs is to break down in front of everyone. Somehow, she thought he didn’t know anything. It’s disconcerting to realize her grief is on public display when she’s worked so hard to tuck it away. She reels, and he presses his lips together in frustration.

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

 “It’s… You’re fine.” She swallows hard and shakes her head. “I’m taking my break.”

 His wounded expression slices through her as she flees.

 ****

 Another couple of weeks pass before Katniss finds herself alone with Peeta again. They’re scheduled to close on a slow night, and everyone else has gone home when he locks the door behind the last customer and she turns off the light and secures the window for the drive through window.

 “Alone at last,” she jokes and is struck by his wry grin.

 “You don’t have to do that.”

 “Lock up? I think I do.”

 He catches her gaze and refuses to let it drop. “Pretend to be happy you’re here with me.”

 “I—”

 “I’m sorry,” he insists. “I thought maybe if I could talk to you and stop being so, you know, wounded that maybe we could take a shot at being friends. I didn’t mean to upset you, Katniss. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

 She doesn’t answer for several beats. He squirms a little and drops his eyes to study twisting hands and twitching feet. She’s going to regret this. She knows she will. Still, there’s something sweet and shy and kind that she yearns for when the rest of the world is so hard and cold. Maybe it’s weakness or something else equally awful she should expunge from her personality, but she can’t let him spiral this way. Maybe it’ll stop hers, too.

 “We could, uh, try that.”

 It comes out garbled and stunted, but the change in his countenance makes her glad she took the step. A thousand emotions flit over his handsome face, but a grin splits his lips so wide that his teeth flash white. She holds up her hands to head him off, but he steadies himself. With eyes twinkling, he chuckles.

 “I saw the fear there for a second. I’ll control myself before I start asking the deep stuff.”

 “The deep stuff?” she asks, still gun-shy.

 “Yeah, like it’s crazy that I’d voluntarily cover a shift for you if you called in sick, but I don’t know your favorite color.”

 “It’s green.”

 “Mine’s orange.”

 “Like those chairs?” she laughs and nods at the overly bright upholstery on the furniture. Apparently someone in corporate thought pumpkin spice wasn’t just their most popular fall drink; it was also where customers could put their butts as they sipped caffeine-laden drinks.

 “Softer,” he answers, his voice a breathy whisper. “Like the sunset.”

 Her eyes drift shut. He’s put a spell on the space with his words, and she wants to stay there for a moment. When he’s not being overeager, Peeta Mellark is charming as hell. Lord, help her.

 “Can I tell you a secret? It’s really important.”

 She tenses, but when she opens her eyes, she finds that he’s moved closer to her and propped his hip against the counter. He looks so young and hopeful there’s no way she can be scared of him.

 “If you must,” she sniffs and smiles to soften her response.

 “Lean in close. It’s a big one.” She does so slowly, and he waits patiently until she’s close enough that he can whisper, “Don’t tell our boss, but I’m a tea guy. Two lumps of sugar. I don’t even like coffee.”

 Her eyes widen for a split second, and then she bursts into laughter. Tears gather in her eyes as she shakes. “That’s not a big one!”

 “Coffee is life, Katniss. A known tea drinker would be cast out among the wolves. I’ll just stay incognito. I’m trusting you with my life here.”

 “And what if I spill it?”

 “Spill the tea?” He winks as she gasps for air. Just as quickly, he wipes his expression from his face and assumes mock sobriety. Somberly, he picks up the broom and starts to sweep. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have one fewer opponent to beat out for employee of the month.”

 The whole idea that Katniss, surly and grumpy as she is, could ever win a customer service award is so preposterous she can’t keep from giggling. By the time the café is clean, she’s a million times lighter. When they head separate ways after locking up, she watches him as he strides down the street. Before he turns the corner, he tosses a look over his shoulder and waves. She doesn’t even have to think about it. She waves back.

 ****

 They become friends, and it upends her life. Katniss isn’t used to having people around. Not since her sister passed away and left her all alone in the world. Katniss had gotten used to being an orphan, but when her sister was killed in a car crash, the loneliness and despair overwhelmed her. With Peeta around, she doesn’t feel quite so isolated anymore.

 They take short walks on shared breaks, and he leans down to pick dandelions from between the sidewalk cracks before handing them to her with a bashful grin. He shields her from overly aggressive customers during busy periods at the café, and, after several weeks, he manages to convince her that spending time together outside of work isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

 “Friends do tend to see each other in social settings,” he teases, and Katniss finally relents.

 They go to movies and basketball games and art exhibits and archery competitions and all sorts of other things she had no idea she’d enjoy until Peeta suggested the activity. Sometimes, they do mundane things like grocery shopping together. She finds she likes trying new things as long as there’s someone with her and they can debrief about what was good and bad afterward. He convinces her to try one of those art classes with BYOB wine and a pre-chosen image to paint, and she gasps when his own creation takes on a life of its own while hers seems like a bad paint with water replica. He teaches her to cook bread and cookies and cinnamon rolls, and she shares her heirloom lamb stew recipe with him. They’re comfortable together. He never pushes, never makes her feel like he needs anything more than simple friendship.

 Until, that is, the anniversary of her sister’s death.

 She should have taken off work. She knows that, but the café is short-handed. Besides, she needs the money. It’s rainy and muggy and awful when she leaves the house, and the subway is packed much more than usual. She’s jostled and pushed and touched inappropriately (although, that was likely unintentional with how closely pressed together the passengers are in the train car), so that by the time she gets to work, she’s irritable, grumpy, and a ten seconds from losing it.

 It’s possible it’s the weather or the alignment of the stars or an almost full-moon or the changing of the seasons. It could be that other people are suffering from trauma and loss and depression, as well. Or it could be that Katniss just has really bad luck.

 “This drink is wrong.”

 The harsh complaint is snapped at her by an unpleasant looking man with white hair and a beard. He looks at her like she’s something rotten on the underside of his shoe when he shoves the cup toward her and sloshes some of the hot liquid on her outstretched hand. She hisses at the burn and immediately turns to the sink to run cold water over her skin before it blisters.

 “Don’t turn your back on me! Fix my coffee.”

 Katniss tenses, her guard up, but she refuses to move. His actions burned her, and she’s following not only methods of self-preservation but also the company’s safe work policies. Injuries are to be treated immediately on the job. She’s doing that.

 He continues yelling, attracting the attention of patrons and staff. Peeta finishes with the order he’s taking and quickly intervenes, coming to her rescue whether she wants him to or not. She’s not sure which is accurate.

 “Can I help you, sir? My name is Peeta, and I’m—”

 The man squints at Peeta and raises a shaking hand toward me. He’s livid, and Peeta takes a half-step back at the fury that’s suddenly directed his way. The situation escalates. It’s not pretty. The police are called, and customers are shaken. That’s nothing compared to the way Katniss quakes inside her own skin. She’s barely holding it together when their manager intercedes.

 “Get her out of here,” Haymitch barks at Peeta before turning to the customer. The coffee cup he’s thrown at her rolls on the floor in a puddle of liquid. The name scrawled on the outside is Snow. It’s ironic. Katniss has always hated winter.

 They make it to the back before she crumbles, and Peeta lets go of her hand to help her sit down on a stack of crates. He settles next to her and pulls her into a loose embrace—tight enough so that she knows he’s there but loose so she doesn’t feel trapped. It’s the perfect way to comfort her. He’s perfect, and she’s a mess.

 The tears flow, and she’s too broken to bother to wipe them away. Shoulders shake and sobs tear from her throat in gulping heaves. At one point, she moans her dead sister’s name. It’s a mournful wail that washes over her and makes her hurt even worse. He pats her back and toys with the tip of her braid. It’s an unlikely source of solace, and it causes her to turn into him and press her face to his shoulder.

 He smells like bread, she realizes in a random flash of clarity. She’s lamenting her sister, but that scent claws at her senses and registers in the olfactory section of her brain. How odd, she thinks before a fresh wave of grief shakes her torso.

 “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I’m here. Take as long as you need. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 She’s not, though. She’s not all right, and she knows he understands that. He’s working with a limited vocabulary as he tries to help her. That’s what people say when they’re faced with a weeping friend. She’s done it herself. His tone of voice and gentle touch more than prove his compassion for her pain.

 She doesn’t know how long they sit there, but it’s long enough that her tears have soaked his shoulder. A sharp cough invades their little bubble, and they both glance up to see Haymitch in the doorway.

 “Clock out,” he orders in that gruff way of his. “We’ve got you both covered. Take her home, boy.” Peeta nods at the nickname without protest. It would be offensive if it meant anything other than their boss can’t remember anyone’s names, although that’s bad enough.

 Peeta hails a cab and gives her address. He escorts her to her door and unlocks it for her before guiding her inside and seating her on the couch. When he moves away, she grabs at his hand and pulls him down next to her. His arms envelop her again, and she presses her face into his neck and allows the tears to streak down her cheeks while she hiccups. She hates being vulnerable, but she trusts him. They’ve grown close over the past few months.

 Finally, she runs dry. Her sobs subside, and her body stills. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t attempt to pull away. Instead, he simply waits and gives her the space for what she needs. It’s a beautiful thing to grieve with someone who allows it to occur instead of hindering the process. She’s not okay. She won’t be for a long time, but she’s survived today. For now, that’s enough.

 “Thank you,” she mumbles against his shoulder. When he doesn’t answer, she glances up at him through wet lashes and finds him looking at her with compassion in his piercing blue eyes. She could fall into them if she’d let herself. When he lifts his hand to brush flyaway wisps of hair from her forehead, she thinks maybe she should.

 Time freezes. There’s a pulse between them that shakes the world. They’re drawn together, and she doesn’t second guess it or pull away from him. Instead, she closes her eyes and meets his mouth with hers. It’s gentle, just a sweet brush of lips, but it tastes like a reawakening, like the snow melting away and the earth coming back to life in spring.

 It’s scary. It’s terrifying. It’s also right. After the events of the past year, she deserves a new beginning.

[anne-i-write]

kuroo headcannons

| kuroo supporting his competitive archer s/o |

kuroo tetsurou x reader

word count: 912

tw: one swear

a/n: we need more archery love on this website even tho i’ve been playing more volleyball than i’ve been shooting lmao also writing this made me love kuroo so much more okok please enjoy this ty

kuroo is so impressed when he finds out you can shoot

“you’re like katniss!”

“don’t talk to me ever again”

hh he calls you katniss just to see you get pouty w him

okay all jokes aside,

he loves watching your competitions

like yeah they’re quiet and slow but it’s a nice contrast to the absolute hype during volleyball matches

but he loves the absolute focus you have on your face while you shoot

he loves it even more when right after you release and you get a tiny smile on your face because you know it was a good shot

as boring as competitions can be, he freakin LOVES LOVES LOOVVEESS the olympic/elimination rounds

when you go head to head with someone who thinks they’re better than you???

CMON

it always has him on the edge of his seat everytime you tie an end

so since you’re also very dedicated to archery, he knows that he won’t get a lot of time with you during competition season

archery is a yearly sport: indoor and outdoor

no rest for the wicked what can i say

but he loves how much effort you put into every shot you do and whenever you do get a break in between rounds, you talk to him like you didn’t just destroy the ten and nine ring

so we established he loves you, right

so you decide to put that to the test

your first outdoor competition of the year is slowly coming up and he’s only been to your indoor tournaments

“hey tetsu,, i have a tournament on friday, do you want to come?”

“is that even a question?? of course i’d go!!! where is it?”

“it’s in shinjuku, yknow, the olympic square?”

he pauses

“outdoors?”

“yeah”

“ITS SUMMER BABY ARE YOU SERIOUS”

he does go

but GOD everyone is so miserable

it’s hot and damp and there are too many mosquitoes for anyone’s liking

it’s basically hell

“this isn’t how far you normally shoot indoors”

“no,,, really??? no shit sherlock”

“why are you so mean today ;-;”

“sorry baby it’s just nerves :(”

so yall start your practice ends and it’s just really bad

not performance bad just,, bad weather

(shooting in humid weather is literally the worst just thinking about it makes me want to cry)

so you finish your end and you walk up to him to talk to him and waste the time

he’s just staring at the targets as he hands you your water bottle

“how far are those targets???”

“70 meters, why?”

he loves spotting for you

yall even came up with your own little code for where your arrows hit

“i love that your competitions only last half of the day”

“but it’s over a span of the weekend :(“

“but my matches are all day”

you guys have a debate on whether all day tournaments or half day but multiple day tournaments are better

is extremely worried when you ask him to buy bandage tape when he decided to get more drinks for you two

“BABY ARE YOU OKAY”

adkjfhsd please he’s so worried about you

i love him

you reassure him that you’re fine and that you only ran out of tape and since he was already out might as well just kill two birds w one stone

this guy goes faster than sonic

you’re only in the middle on your second head to head end when he comes back, sweaty and panting

“i could’ve waited a few more ends baby”

“but you said you needed them 🥺"

is surprised you wear tape on your fingers too

“does it not get in the way?”

“having callouses gets in the way but putting the tape on helps a lot,, thank u baby”

hands u the tape and kisses u good luck

you do really well until you get knocked out at quarter finals

tbh you’re not even mad 

you shot really well and you’re happy that you made it that far

but kuroo also being the athlete he is, knows that losing still sucks so he gives u lots of kithes even if you are really sweaty lmao

has asked to hold your bow once

“HOW DO YOU HOLD THIS UP ALL THE TIME”

“dunno you get used to it”

loves the way your setup looks

the color scheme you chose with your riser and sight and stabilizer is just???

“you should get red and black”

“too basic”

“ARE YOU TELLING ME MY HIGH SCHOOL’S TEAM COLORS WERE BASIC”

“EVERYONE HAS A BLACK AND RED COLOR SCHEME TETSU”

“YOU HAVE THE SAME COLOR AS NOHEBI”

“I HAD THIS BOW BEFORE I KNEW YOUR RIVALRY WITH DAISHO”

its a tiny fight that is easily made up with cuddles and kisses

idk i feel like i see kuroo with a compound

so if he does end up buying a bow just for fun

yall do tradesies every now and then

he just likes the elegant look of your recurve lol

he’s a quick learner

he likes to piss you off

“i’m trying so hard to be nice”

“what am i doing wroooong”

you know that tone

he KNOWS what he’s doing wrong

“stop doing that with your elbow; keep it up”

“like this?”

MF EXAGGERATES IT AND YOU’RE

he sees you pulling your arrow out of your quiver, ready to smack him

he fixes his elbow properly

“thank you tetsurou”

but yall are that kickass athlete couple who dominates in both their sports

[luxekook]

THE SEVEN || prologue

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: supernatural au with action, angst, smut, and (trace amounts of) fluff

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader fights to survive, attracts a powerful group of demons, and causes general mayhem in a post-apocalyptic new world

⇥ word count: 1.5k

⇥ warnings: nc17, *this fic has scenes of graphic violence*, demons, bloodshed, anarchy, general apocalyptic things, cursing, eventual poly relationship, a made-up language, hints of desire to own, brief mention of abuse, an attempt at world-building

⇥ beta reader: heathy @shadowsremedy​​ - thank u so much!!! i was holding off on beginning this fic for so long, and you really helped me move forward! uwu<3

Prologue

The world has completely gone to shit, I think to myself as my blade slices right through my opponent’s eye. The responding roar of the crowd reinforces that thought as the lifeless body slumps to the ground.

Removing my bloodied knife from the man at my feet, I stand, exhaustion kicking in after yet another adrenaline-fueled fight. Gazing out at the surrounding crowd of humans and demons, I narrow my sights on tonight’s guests of honor – the seven demons who would decide if my performance was deemed worthy enough of payment.

Raising my chin in defiance, my eyes meet those of the pompous greed demon of the Ahgase Seven. Lim Jaebeom lounges on a provisional throne flanked by his six brothers. Their combined beauty is ethereal but leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. 

How is it that creatures so prone to evil can be so lovely to look at?

After glancing briefly at each brother, I finally make eye contact with Jackson Wang, the Ahgase’s pride demon. He inclines his head with a satisfied smirk, simultaneously permitting my payment and ordering my swift dismissal.

The callous disregard of my efforts never fails to ignite a familiar burn of fury within me. I fight to the death to earn a week’s worth of food and shelter, and all I get is a fucking nod in response? Complete and utter bullshit if you ask me.

My teeth grind together as I give the slightest and stiffest bow possible in the Ahgase Seven’s general vicinity and stalk out of the Pit. Reminding myself that I actively choose this fate never really helps, given that the alternatives are equally as shit – if not more-so.

Basically, since the planet lost three-fourths of its population in the Reaping, the old capitalistic way of the world is no longer. Now, the main ways to survive deal with what you have to offer as a resource – your body, your skill, your labor, your loyalty. I choose to fight because, for me, it’s the soundest option.

My prior life had been sketchy at best. I had taught Krav Maga, a form of aggressive self-defense and reflexive fighting, to teens and young adults. I also had used Krav Maga (and other more nefarious methods) on abusive parents or guardians, bullies, or romantic partners - the very reasons my students came to my classes.

My resulting ambiguously gray background probably had influenced heaven and hell’s decisions to leave me behind. Still, killing hadn’t come easy for me in the beginning, but now it seems like second nature. In this new era, there are no rules, no moral codes, no winners, no losers. There are only survivors.

And I’ll be damned if I am not one of them.

Last year, the Reaping left us all in chaos and confusion. The supernatural had become natural. Heaven took those deemed worthy and let Hell deal with the rest. But, as it turns out, Hell was just as picky.

For a few days, demons ruthlessly reaped millions of humans and dragged them below the earth. And then the reaping stopped. The humans that remained were left with burned cities, abandoned homes and a complete absence of law. They were a ruthless bunch with questionable backgrounds and ambiguous morals. It honestly made sense that they were left behind – myself included.

The short period after the Reaping brought with it a general mayhem which resulted in looting, fires, and general destruction. The remainder of society was bare-boned, with only the richest areas having luxuries like running water and electricity. I referred to this time period – the lull before the demon Sevens took over – as the pseudo-Hunger Games. I legit had to pull a full Katniss Everdeen in order to stay alive during those two weeks.

Then, finally, the demons rose again.

The demons that rose were power-hungry and desperate to prove themselves worthy to rule over the New Earth. They looked human until you got too close and felt the negative energy that emanated from them. It's almost a built-in warning for those lower on the metaphorical food-chain not to get close to a source of potential harm.

By possessing a demon of each sin category, Sevens were able to bond together and max out their powers. Often, Sevens took on courts and consorts to siphon additional power, but my intel on demons was mostly built on speculation and rumors. The general consensus seemed to be that humans joined demon factions because of the promise of protection, food, and other resources. However, no one usually survived leaving a faction led by a Seven once they had declared fealty.

I vowed to never willingly enter into a Seven’s territory. My freedom and independence were the only things I had left to hold onto. And that was how I ended up in my current situation as a fighter in the Pit, the rough, man-made arena where fighters battle to the death for winnings while the audience bets furiously on their selected victor. No one had bet on me at first, but they learned quickly.

The Pit’s existence sprung out of desperation for distraction. Humans and demons alike needed some form of entertainment away from the monotony and death embedded within everyday life. Located within the Neutral Zone, the Pit provided humans the ability to earn a living and to make a name for themselves. Those that fought in the Pit were only lower on the human totem pole to the Pit Master and to the merchants in the Neutral Zone. Below the fighters were the scavengers, the workers, the peasants, and the lost.

Marching towards the exit gate, I nod to the next competitor to enter the arena – it might be the last I’d see of them. Pit Master Agra greets me as I step through the gate’s threshold and finally out of the public eye.

“Good work,” she forces a smile that only looks like she’s in pain, “But, next time make sure there’s more blood.”

I say nothing.

Agra takes my silence as acceptance and jerks her head at the empty hallway, indicating my second dismissal of the day. “You have one week until your next fight,” she predictably calls as I make my way down the tunnel towards my makeshift room located in the fighters’ dorms.

I wave a hand carelessly behind me in a sign of recognition. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to challenge her in the Pit.

Pausing outside my room, I struggle to unhook my necklace that held my key. The blood on my fingers still has not fully dried, and I grow increasingly frustrated. I just want to bathe, goddamnit.

“Allow me,” a deep voice purrs from behind me. I shudder as two hands suddenly brush my own away from their hold on the necklace. Warm fingers brush the nape of my neck as the sound of a slight inhale meets my ears.

Fuck, I hope this person isn’t smelling me because I am almost certain the combination of sweat and dried blood is extremely unpleasant.

“There,” the voice rasps, “All done.”

My necklace is gone from my neck, and I turn to retrieve it from whoever just assisted me.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss, taking in the demon before me. His teal hair is wild and reminiscent of a blue flame. His black eyes are large and slanted, fixed on me with a peculiar expression I just cannot place. His clothes are expensive. I peer closer, inspecting the intricate details on his patterned top. Was that Versace? 

In this economy?

His arm extends to mine. My necklace dangles from one finger carelessly. “Here, mì shaìà (my pet).”

“My name is (y/n),” I grab the necklace and shudder when our fingers brush for a split second, “Not Mishaeya.”

The demon smiles. It’s large and boxy and completely predatory. “(Y/n). Mì shaìà. It doesn’t make a difference.”

Am I missing something? 

“Listen, demon-dude, I just killed someone like five minutes ago. Can you stop being cryptic and just tell me why you’re lurking outside my room?”

“Ah, yes,” he stalks closer to me. My back hits the door to my room. He licks his lips, “I was watching you. You are quite the fighter, little one.”

“Little?” I glance down at my thick and well-muscled self, “Mhm, okay.”

“Are you not scared of me, mì shaìà?” His hand cups my chin, thumb darting out to wipe some blood from the shallow cut across my cheek.

“Should I be?” I front like my heart isn’t beating out of my chest.

“Yes,” he smiles before sucking the droplets of my blood from his thumb. “Surely someone as exquisite as you should need protecting. I’m surprised no one owns you yet, (y/n).”

My back straightens, “No one owns me. No one ever will.”

The demon’s head tilts as he silently studies me for a few moments. He looks like he almost wants to say something before he steps back and bows. “Sleep well, mì shaìà. I will be seeing you again.”

I gape as he walks away from me. A thought strikes me. “Hey!” I call after him, “What’s your name?”

He answers without looking back or breaking his stride, “V.”

a/n: i made up Deìthi, the language that the demons use in this story. i will keep a running list of translations at the bottom of each chapter as well as putting initial translations in parentheses following the first usage of the word.

Deìthi (The Language of Demons) Translation List:

Mì shaìà - My pet

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Walking Dead

A/N: I know some of the plot points aren’t factual in the DC universe but I got creative with Jason’s character, hopefully it’s a nice read though. 🎃

>>>>——————————>

Jason’s flatmate was weird.

He was never quick to judge someone and after all of the characters he’d encountered in his life , to reach such a label so fast was saying something.

In the beginning of the arrangement the two got along swimmingly, but soon enough the dynamic became rather ambiguous. (Y/n) was a friend of Roy’s and as such couldn’t be all bad - sure, they had their peculiar introduction but once out of the way it all seemed too good to be true. Roy brought up the proposal of living with one of his old friends when Jason needed a new temporary place to stay, he’d said (Y/n) had been there through his worst and helped him with recovery -?that no one was more loyal and reliable than them.

However, it grew considerably weird with the startled scream his sharer released when seeing him in the dark, now this was perfectly normal as maybe they weren’t used to having someone around quite yet - at least that would’ve been the explanation if they weren’t 2 weeks into their deal. Not only that but (Y/n) scrambled back to their room at record speed and slammed the door behind with no justifiable means.

Strange? Yes.

Next he noticed how they had an obsession with the heating, whenever he was around it always seemed to be on even if the weather of late October miraculously didn’t call for it. It had only begun after they’d cooked breakfast together, maybe they enjoyed the heat of the oven? He’d tried giving them blankets or even his hoodies and yet it wasn’t enough to break their odd habit. Again, weird.

Luckily he wasn’t staying for long...

———

Your new housemate was insanely weird.

Of course you had Roy Harper to thank for that, the only time he pays uninvited visits is when he wants something, your assumptions proven correct with his hinting text message.

[Katniss: U know how much u love me...]

Although his proposition was rather enthralling, his friend needed a place to lay low for a while and with your newly rented 2 bedroom apartment, you were his first choice and thus agreed.

He brought ‘Jason’ over a few days later so you could be introduced - and upon seeing him a vast sea of varying thoughts raced across your mind.

‘He’s hot.’

‘No he’s going to live with you.’

‘Is he one of those friends?’

But then another momentarily fleeting option halted your positivity - is he one of Roy’s older friends, the ones from his rough days of addiction and before you could even register your next actions you’d already subtly voiced such concerns.

“Please don’t bring any dodgy things here, I can’t have the police sniffing around.”

“Like what?” Jason turned to you, brow raised in curiosity.

“Drugs?”

“Oh no, I don’t handle that - I have people to do it for me.” Jason calmly replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world as he took in your kitchen whilst you shot a look that roughly translated to ‘you better be joking’ to a sheepish Roy.

“But I have guns and other weapons, are they okay?” Jason once again faced you with a serious expression, genuinely asking your permission and honestly you could not deny that beautiful man.

“Yeah, I mean sure. You’re not gonna use them right?”

“Not in the apartment. Unless someone breaks in obviously.” The ravenette was confident in his statement, now checking out your living room leaving you slightly baffled.

“Obviously. So um, why do you have them, and why do you have drug runners?” Intrigue burned in your veins, you couldn’t help but strive for answers given the causal circumstances of the contrastingly deadly topics.

“He’s a Crime Lord.” Roy smugly cut in, an immediate expression of concern shot at Jason who you’d hope would deny the allegations.

“Dude, way to sell me. I run a drug ring, you can never stop crime but you can control it so that’s what I do. None of my people sell to kids so that’s a start. So, what’s our rent?” He playfully punched his partner before elaborating and oddly enough it made sense to you.

It should’ve been a warning sign, what normal person makes a first impression by telling you he has people who handle his drugs so don’t ever worry about them being in your apartment. No one.

Although that wasn’t why he was so damn weird. No, far from it. You didn’t know what he was.

One night, you’d awoken to grab some water and tiredly walked out to the kitchen only to meet Jason who possibly just showered after patrol but as it was basically pitch black you couldn’t be certain. You met his gaze - his irises illuminated green - and you instinctively screamed, stopping short as he tilted his head slightly silently asking why you’d done so. Now you thought it was a misunderstanding, a trick of the light maybe, so you stared a few seconds longer and yet they remained dazzlingly bright like fireflies. It was then that you scrambled back to your bedroom slamming the door behind you and sliding down it to the floor with your hand over your mouth, water long forgotten. Safe to say you didn’t sleep that night, demons have vibrant irises don’t they?

It was unknown whether he knew about his glowing eyes, nor could you find an appropriate time to bring it up. You’d built up the courage to do so a few days later over breakfast which you’d opted to cook together.

He hovered over the oven, yourself standing beside him admiring his work until he turned to you with spoon in hand insisting you try some. You did so, holding his wrist steady - his skin beyond freezing - he’d been right next to the oven, how could he be so cold?!

You’d approved of the taste, even if he’d dabbed some on your nose simply for amusement and straight after you switched on the heating to hopefully warm him up a bit.

You continued this procedure whenever you felt he radiated unhealthily low temperatures and occasionally Jason offhandely mentioned that the weather wasn’t cold enough for such measures but you simply shrugged with a smile. Although he would throw a blanket over you, or even offer to lend you one of his hoodies to warm you up and yet you couldn’t understand why he thought you were cold when he was icy to the touch. Ghosts were inhumanly cold...

Plus, although the white streak was quite attractive on him, it was apparently a permanent characteristic but whose hair is naturally white in only one place at such a young age? Frankenstein maybe? But wasn’t he a zombie?

Luckily he wasn’t staying for long...

———

Halloween was upcoming so the TV stations traditionally broadcasted relating titles and it seemed the Sixth Sense was one of them.

Jason hopped through the window, fully clad in his Red Hood armour as the film was finishing, he’d gone to get changed and by the time he’d returned another horror was beginning. He’d joined you on the sofa, resting his legs over you purely for annoyance but you found entertainment in your playful dynamic.

“Hey (Y/n), do you think yelling at a guy holding an AK-47 is a stupid way to die?” It was a random but relevant start to a story he’d intended to tell.

“Oh god you don’t want me to solve cases with you do you because I’m not ready for that man. Like I thought I might be seeing dead people but this is too much.” That particular Sixth Sense related comment surfaced after he’d brought up vigilante related drama - of which he assumed you already knew about due to your relationship with Roy.

“Okay, what is with you? You’ve been acting so weird!” He finally needed answers, the unexplained oddities becomoning too much for both parties involved to the fact Jason was compared to a horror film character.

“Me? I’m not the one with glowing irises!” You sarcastically counter after Jason’s quizzical remark.

“Glow- What?!” He shut his eyes, fingers resting on the bridge of his nose before he looked up to again with a confused glance.

“Your eyes... they glow green in the dark sometimes, didn’t you know that?” Your tone was softer now, the sincerity in it making him want to believe your claims even more.

“No I didn’t... Are you sure? I mean it could’ve been a mistake if -“ Before he could finish, you turned off the lamp beside you and held your hand mirror in front of his face, low and behold they lit up.

“Lazarus green...” His voice was much quieter, tone holding a hint of pained disappointment as he spoke with an almost frustrated expression.

“A-what green?”

“Lazarus, like the Lazarus pits. It doesn’t matter (Y/n), you don’t need to worry about any of that, it will always haunt me by the looks of things.”

“It does matter, please tell me. I’m here for you, that’s what flatmates are for isn’t it no matter how temporary we may be.”

Surprisingly, after a long period of contemplative silence he began his turbulent tale of life, death, vengeance, villains and vigilantism leaving you rather speechless. It was certainly a befitting horror film script.

“...now I’m here, but hopefully one of my safe houses will be clear soon and I’ll be out of your hair.” He finished, shifting his feet that were now entangled with yours as you sat opposite one another on the couch.

“That revival pit, do you think that’s why your eyes glow? It would explain why you’re always cold, and your physical abilities too.” With a finger to your lips you calmly thought aloud, Jason also captivated by the concept.

“I’m cold too? That’s why you insist on keeping the heating on?” Despite his jest, he withdrew himself from you at the thought of affecting you with his apparent side effects of coming back from the dead.

However you shook your head, shifting forward and placing your hand against his, of course his own towered yours in comparison and he was a contrast of bemused and skeptical with your actions. You felt his skin warm up with your touch, the result bringing a smirk to your face.

“I don’t mind it. Your skin might be cold but your heart isn’t, and besides, I can always warm you up Jason.”

“Oh can you now?” He raised a brow at your unintentional suggestive statement, cocky but flirtatious smirk dancing across his lips.

“I - that wasn’t - I was trying - you know what, I’m just glad we’ve solved our differences.” As you attempted to justify yourself, Jason only laughed much to your feigned aggravation.

“True, I’m calling Roy over tomorrow. How could he not notice?” Jason managed, his he argument raising distinct confusion.

“This is Roy we’re talking about.” Was your only reply, though you would acknowledge just how incredibly smart and tactile Roy was any day of the week much like Jason would - but being apart the Outlaws meant subjugation to a few friendly insults.

“Point taken.”

———

Both Roy and Kori had dropped by the next morning to discuss your recent discoveries over breakfast which was a revolutionary one for all of you in some way.

“Glowing eyes? Ah, to be fair you usually wear your mask and helmet so I don’t normally see them and it’s not like I sleep with you so how the hell would I know? As for the cold thing, we’re always outside - if anything I just envied how Lian would always stop crying around you.” Roy calmly sighed, the revelations intriguing to him also and you suspected that he knew more than he was letting on. For a start, keeping such a thing to himself if only to freak you out once he moved in.

“Oh! They say that babies can see the supernatural, like when they just stare into space and people say they can see ghosts. It might be like that.” You laughed, although your comment caused the boys to consider the possibility as it would certainly explain why Lian ceased in her crying around Jason.

“I didn’t say anything as I thought you were trying to match me.” The goddess Kori giggled, her eyes aglow in emerald for demonstration.

“Anyway, is everything set?” Jason nodded to the alien, now concerned with leaving you in peace.

“Sorry Jaybird, gonna need another few weeks before you can leave.” Roy haphazardly shrugged, looking between Jason and yourself as he gazed to you with a sympathetic expression.

“You don’t mind do you? It’s already been 6 weeks, I can -“

“Jason, it’s fine. You’re too weird not to like, but we should stock up on food if you’re staying.” With a wave of your hand you cut him off and smiled, gesturing toward the cupboards as you mentioned them.

The Outlaws were all equally grateful, and soon Roy and Kori headed out meanwhile Jason began writing a shopping list.

“I thought that everything was in order for Jason to come back today?” Kori politely inquired once the pair had left, the previous information contradicting with her current knowledge.

“Shhh, it is but they get on so well, a few more weeks and they both might finally have a place they can call home for once.” Roy carefully explained, a hopeful glint in his eyes mixed with that of sorrow considering what his two friends had gone through.

“I see, as long as our friends are happy then I shall ‘shh’.” The Tamaranean joyfully agreed, all too chipper with the plan.

[talesofpanem]

Fever

Author : @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: T

No Trigger warnings

Summary : Did you know we were heading right into a glacial era ? Peeta is about to find out.

Author’s note: My huge thanks to the incredible @xerxia31 for her beta skills. Hope you guys enjoy this little piece ...

“Can you believe we’re heading into a glacial era?” 

I turn my head in surprise. Usually, Katniss Everdeen doesn’t talk to anyone, goes in and out of Abernathy’s Development Inc, without acknowledging anyone. Yet, I can’t be mistaken as I am the only one in the elevator with her this morning.

“Are we?” What can I say, I’m just an architect, not a biologist like she is.

“Unless we fuck this up, yes.”

This almost undoes me. Katniss Everdeen saying fuck. My very male mind goes to places it shouldn’t, imagining the curves of her body that are currently hidden by a very white lab coat, imagining her moaning under me, or over me.

I have to take a deep breath. I have no idea where this crush for her comes from. She’s far from being the most attractive woman in the building. Madge Undersee has legs for days, blue eyes that shine like sapphire. Delly Cartwright has curves that are to die for, milky breasts and a very round bottom. Johanna Mason is thin and toned, with a piercing in her belly that shines a little too much.

Katniss is just - I don’t know … You wouldn’t notice her in a crowded room, yet I’ve pretty much always noticed her. Maybe it’s her dark hair that she always braids, or sometimes braids then ties in a bun on her head, or maybe it’s the color of her eyes, a gray I have never seen before.

Doesn’t explain my crush, though. Yet, it’s there. 

I sigh. 

“You’re Peeta Mellark, right? Rye’s brother?” I close my eyes. Of course, she would only know me by my brother, the Mellark that got everything. Looks, a career as the top wrestler of the country, a qualification for the Olympics, when I am only the little brother who eats too many donuts.

“Yeah, the one and only.” I try to joke it away, as I always do.

“You shouldn’t have let him win in his senior year.”

I’m glad I didn’t grab a Chai Latte at Starbucks this morning, or it would now be all over my shirt right now.

“What? How?” Once again, I am rendered speechless by a mere sentence of hers. I really need to get a grip.

“I saw the final match, you let him take your arm.”

I did. I knew there was a recruiter from Berkeley, that it was my brother’s chance to win his scholarship in his choice university. How the recruiter didn’t notice that I threw the match, I have no idea. 

“It was a beginner’s mistake.” I shrug everything off. Why is this elevator taking so long today?

“It was nice of you.” 

The ping of the elevator startles me as I try to find a suitable answer for her. A mere “thank you” wouldn’t do, as it would mean I’d admit I let Rye win. It’s a lose-lose situation.

“It’s your floor”, she says as she puts her hand between the doors so they won’t close as I, Peeta Mellark, can’t seem to leave this elevator.

She knows my floor.

“Yup, and I should be going.” I finally remember how to use my legs again.

As I pass in front of her, her perfume hits me right in the feels. I thought she would wear something very feminine, whereas she smells like a forest after the rain. It’s heady, yet light. The kind of perfume you can’t forget.

The elevator pings again as the doors close. She leaves for the upper floors, where I know the labs are.

It takes me the whole day to get over my encounter - only when Thresh suggests we hang out at The Hob like any other Friday do I start thinking of my weekend.

I’m supposed to meet with my family so we can all gush about Rye’s latest accomplishment, or Flax’s awesomeness. I don’t really care, I’ll just take the chance to play with my nephews, something I always look forward to.

I have just ordered my first beer when I see her come in. She never comes to Friday hangouts, even though other people from the labs do usually come.

“Kitty Kat! You’re finally out of your cage, ready to meet us poor people!” I hear Finnick’s voice, as well as the entire rest of the bar, I think. He’s always had a thing for nicknaming everybody.

I can’t help but look at her. She doesn’t answer Finn as she tries to find a place to sit down, until she spots a free chair.  She finally catches my eye, and I n swear I see her wink.

The group settles into our usual Friday night routine, except I try not to look at Katniss every five seconds, which takes a lot of my willpower. I mean, it’s not like because she talked to me for three minutes today that she wants something more.

Right? Right.

Music starts to fill the place as a band has taken the small stage over. As I look at the musicians, I understand why Katniss came. Gale Hawthorne is the singer.

Of course she didn’t come for me. She came for Tall, Dark and Broody. Those two were inseparable through grade school, middle school and high school. They even both went to Panem U together. 

Although they didn’t attend the same courses, Hawthorne was always driving her. Forth. And back.

It’s not like I noticed.

The Mockingjays (what an awful name for a band) start their gig, featuring covers of rock songs that draw people from their seats, to the small dance floor in front of the makeshift stage, that prompts them to start dancing.

Soon enough, our whole table is jumping up and down to Joan Jett’s I love Rock and Roll.

Our whole table minus me and Katniss.

“Don’t you want to dance?” she asks me as she moves to sit just in front of me.

I shrug the answer away. I’ve never been a good dancer, a torn ACL back in my youth made sure of that.

“Come on, it’ll be fun…” She leans towards me, over the table. 

“Don’t you want to go cheer on your boyfriend?” I ask, because no way am I going to make a fool of myself on the dance floor In front of him!

She’s taken aback, her brows furrowed.

“My boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend!”

It’s my turn to be surprised.

“Gale isn’t?”

“He’s my cousin!”

 “He’s your cousin?”

He’s her cousin! I can’t believe it.

“Well, it’s complicated because he is the son of my uncle’s  second wife, but from another man, but still, he’s my cousin.” She explains. “What does that have to do with dancing?”

“I thought he was your boyfriend, that maybe he would be … jealous?”

She starts to laugh. It’s like a cascade of crystal falling into the water, refreshing, pure and true.

“Well, unless you decide to get too close to Madge, you’re safe.”

The music changes to something more bluesy, something I easily recognize. As I watch the bassist, a girl with tattoos and piercings walking closer to the mike, I notice Katniss moving.

She’s standing up now, holding her hand out to me.

“Are you coming?” she asks. All the fibers in my body are pleading me to accept, so I relent.

As we arrive on the makeshift dance floor, she starts moving to the music as the singers begin with the lyrics.

I never imagined how much the lyrics of a song could fit real life.

When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that’s so hard to bear

I watch as Katniss comes closer to me, putting her arms on my shoulder, looking at me fiercely.

Is it me or is it hot in this bar ?

She sways, getting closer to me with each step, until her hips touch mine. I could let go, could step away, but I really don’t want to.

She gives me a fever.

(We do not ride the elevators together again after being caught with my hands under her shirt and hers on my ass. Totally worth it, though.)

[pinkykitten]

Everything, Beautiful

The Hunger Games

Cato x plus size! female reader

Warning: bullying, curse words

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

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

Words: 1,820

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

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

(not my gif! do not own!)

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Even numbers. Fuck you 💙

:’) 🖕💙

Under the cut… oh my god… lord give me strength… if any of y’all wanna get to know me… read this monster X’D

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

I think a bit of both?? I’m the type of person who’d willingly get lost in a strange city but also suddenly develop a stutter when I try to communicate with my fellow humans. :)

4. Are you easy to get along with?

lmao no.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

Kind ones. Who can tolerate me.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

An ex friend/abuser atm. :))))

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

What qualifies as deep?? I guess, my Dad?? Maybe??

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

Dodie Clark - Monster

Easy Life - Pockets

Lorde - Buzzcut Season

Zack Hemsey - The Way

Fits and the Tantrums - Roll Up

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

Yeah, I think so?

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

I kissed my Mum on the top of her head. So, yes. XD

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

That would be Jesse. So, yes. Hope he doesn’t find this blog yikes. X’D

20. Do you like your neighbors?

Yes on one side. No on the other side.

22. Where would you like to travel?

America firstly. Then all over the place to visit other friends. I promised my Mum I’d take her to San Francisco one day, so I gotta keep that promise.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

PETS :DDDDD

26. What do you do when you wake up?

Try my best not to murder anyone while I get my cup of tea liquid life ready. XD Say hi to doggos and beep babies. Check to see if any of my friends need me urgently. Then eat toast.

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

My pets. My parents. My friends.

30. Do you ever want to get married?

I really don’t mind getting married or living in sin. XD It would depend entirely on what my partner wanted, I’d do whatever would make them happy.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

No one. Guess you could say I’m demisexual.

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

Does horseback riding count?? I’ve dabbled in a bit of cricket. But my lungs don’t like intensive exercising, especially cardio stuff.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

Story of my life, every single time. I’ve never told anyone I liked them. I’d rather die than make them feel bad or uncomfortable bc I know they don’t feel the same way.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

At the moment all I can think of is my crush lmao. :’)

40. What do you want to do after high school?

Absolutely nothing bc I’m a dropout. XD Be a completely self-taught author, hopefully.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

Online, I’m probably just really tired and don’t have the energy to be upbeat and/or talk to people. In real life, it’s nothing abnormal; I hate my voice so I don’t talk much and I like quiet. If I’m not using a bunch of emojis (you know how I normally do) when I’m talking, you know I’m either being super serious, or I’m pissed off, or both.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

NEITHER YIKES I LIKE MY SOLID EARTH THANK U VERY MUCH

46. What are you paranoid about?

Being annoying.

48. Have you ever been drunk?

Nope. Not really planning on it, either. I’m kind of curious as to how I’d be, though. Like I have deep-rooted buried anger issues so I might be angry, but I’m also depressed so I might be a puddle of tears and sadness, BUT my personality is v energetic and happy so… who knows, dude. X’D

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Blue and grey. It has “yo” on the hood. :D

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

Biologically male. please.

54. Favourite store?

?? don’t have one. 

56. Favourite colour?

Navy or a kind of dark aqua-navy kind of colour, like a bit of a green tinge as well? I’m also really fond of yellow too.

58. Last thing you ate?

LEFTOVER HAMBURGER AND IT WAS DELICIOUS I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVED HAMBURGERS!!!!!!1!!

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Yeah, dog training competition with our German Shepherd when I was 11.

62. Been arrested? For what?

No yet lmao.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

I’ll be sure to tell you about it when it happens. XD

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

I don’t have any irl friends so… HELL YEAH!!

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

Tumblr. Obviously.

70. Names of your bestfriends?

I could literally just list all my Tumblr friends here. I’ve learnt not to get specifically close to any one or two persons. So… all my beans!!! Love you!!

72. What colour are your towels?

Blue! :D I was forced to use the pink towels in the set when I was little and not out as trans so now I surround myself in all the gendered blue bullshit X’D

74. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

….. maaayyyybbbeee.

76. Favourite animal?

D O G

78:Chocolate or Vanilla?

Neither.

80. What colour shirt are you wearing?

It’s my very yellow button down!! :D

82. Favourite tv show?

S E N S E 8

84. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Never seen either oops.

86. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

88. First person you talked to today?

Enna aka Cinnamonpuff aka steverogershield

90. Name a person you hate?

My brother, Mackenzie. :)

92. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Anyone who mistreats animals.

94.How many sweatpants do you have?

I rarely wear anything but sweatpants, so I have 8. THEY’RE COMFY OKAY. And since it’s usually cold or hot here with no real warm in between, I’m either wearing shorts or sweatpants. It’s only in the rare in-between weather (like now) that I wear my jeans.

96. Last movie you watched?

Can’t remember. I watched the first season of Jessica Jones tho, so… show instead of movie. XD

98.Favourite actor?

TERRY CREWS

100. Have any pets?

YES!!! 3 dogs (one German Shepherd named Ria, a Whippet named Granger, and a mutt named Maude), 3 chickens (Haymitch the black one, Cinna the dark brown one, Effie the pale brown one) and 2 ducks (Peeta and Katniss.) THEY’RE MY BABIES AND I’D DIE FOR THEM!!! :’D

102. Do you type fast?

LMAO APPARENTLY I DO??? My Dad thinks I must type gibberish and makes me type out what he says because he doesn’t think I can type that fast. I only type with 2 fingers normally too. X’D

104. Can you spell well?

w e l l (idk. maybe.)

106. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yup.

108. Have you ever been on a horse? 

Many times. I LOVE them SO MUCH.

110. Is something irritating you right now?

Yeah.

112. Do you have trust issues?

No. *insert canned audience laughter here* Yes, I do. Big time. Just bc I’m friendly doesn’t mean I trust anyone.

114. What was your childhood nickname?

Matt, actually!! :D

116. Do you play the Wii?

Used to, now I don’t have one anymore and it wasn’t my favourite console.

118.Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Y E S. GIMME!!!!!! :D

120.Favourite book?

Bird by Crystal Chan.

122.Are you mean?

I think I definitely can be very cutting when I lose my temper. But I haven’t done that in years now and I try very hard to be a good person. Luckily my first reaction is normally hurt, so by the time the anger kicks in I normally try and get out of the situation before I can say something harsh.

124.Can you keep white shoes clean?

NOPE. I can never keep anything clean, probably why I like dark colours so much. I literally do not own any white clothes anymore because they always get stained within a few hours of me wearing them asdfghjkl. 😅

126.Do you believe in true love?

Kind of. I believe that no relationship is ever perfect, but if people gel well and COMMUNICATE OFTEN AND HONESTLY the relationship can be amazing. I guess it’s its own kind of perfect relationship. I definitely think there’s people you get along brilliantly with, better than anyone else. There’s somebody in the world for everyone! :D

128.What makes you happy?

Animals. My friends. My OCs. :’)

130.What your zodiac sign?

Pisces!! I definitely think I’ve grown into it over time. X’D

132. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

??? depends on whether I like them back or not, obviously. If I do, I’ll probably scream for a solid week and then decide if I want to drag them into my mountain of bullshit with a relationship, or leave it be. If I don’t, let them down as gently as I can. Also I’m a raging bi, so gender wouldn’t matter. :P

134.Favourite lyrics right now?

My all-time favourite lyrics are from The Judge by Twenty one Pilots:

“When the leader of the bad guys sangSomething soft and soaked in painI heard the echo from his secret hideawayHe must’ve forgot to close his doorAs he cranked out those dismal chordsAnd his four walls declared him insane”

136.Dumbest lie you ever told?

“Did you let Haymitch jump on your back again?”

“Uh… noooo.”

“Then why do you have massive scratches in the clear shape of chicken feet on your back?”

“UHHHHHH-”

i”M A HUFFLEPUFF OKAY I’M NOT GOOD AT LYING X’D

128.How tall are you?

I’m not.

140.Brunette or Blonde?

Like, people I’m attracted to, or for me? I honestly don’t care attraction wise. For me, I guess brunette bc I think I look really weird with pale hair lmao.

142.Night or Day?

NIGHT. Dear god, night.

144.Are you a vegetarian?

NOPE. Honestly think I’d go insane if I didn’t eat meat. XD I mean, I would if I had to, but I’d really prefer not to.

146.Tea or Coffee?

TEA. I hate coffee, I’ll leave that to other people. XD

148.Mars or Snickers?

SNICKERS. Mars are good but… Snickers!!!!

150. Do you believe in ghosts?

Hell fucking yes you bet I do pal!!!!!!