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x-gabrielle-x · 3 months ago

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Tides Of Survival | 5

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

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

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

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The salty wind nipped at your skin and caused goosebumps to erupt over the flesh, the wooden planks beneath your feet creaking and groaning beneath your weight as you stepped up onto the porch. Arms already held to your chest in hopes to keep any body heat close, you let out a breath of relief once you gently kicked the door to your home open with the head of your worn shoe, warmth already enveloping you the second you stepped inside.

It wasn't much, but it was one of the things you loved most living in District Four. The small house was barely holding itself up right at this point, wallpaper peeling, broken light bulbs, furniture that was far too gone to even be used, but it was home. It was yours.

You clicked the door shut behind you carefully, aware of the squeaking hinges that you mentally made a note to fix later on. Shrugging off the jacket that hung loose on your shoulders, you dropped it onto a nearby chair.

"Pa?" You called out, still and waiting to hear his familiar voice.

Silence.

You frowned. He wasn't one to leave the house without telling you, especially now considering his health. At the very least, he would have left a note right at the door for you to read over once you'd returned home.

Taking a cautious step forward, heartbeat quickening at the silence that stretched on, you called out again-louder this time-in hopes maybe he'd just missed your voice.

Then-a sudden clatter from the next room. The kitchen, you'd suspected.

You quickly walked over, head peering into the room and catching sight of who you'd been searching for. Despite the relief that washed over you once seeing him, your heart ached at seeing the state he found himself trapped in.

Like the many times you'd found him before, he was hunched over the dining table with clenched white knuckles, chest heaving and eyes burning into what you thought was a piece of white fabric folded neatly upon the wood. A chair had fallen at his side, how exactly you weren't sure of, but it wasn't the first time you'd come home to tipped furniture.

"Hey, Pa," you said, gentle and soft as you walked to his side and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. At your touch, his gaze flickered up to your own, eyes brimmed with unshed tears and vulnerability. You plastered on a small smile when his nimble fingers reached up to interlock with yours.

"Hey, my baby girl," he murmured, voice distant as he stood up to his full height. He wiped at his eyes, letting out a long shaky sigh as he enveloped you into a hug, his lips pressing against the crown of your head. "How were the docks this morning?"

You let out a steady hum, fingers playing with the edge of your frayed shirt. "Same as always," you said. "Emma helped out today. We managed to get through most of the nets."

"Good, good," your dad hummed with a low chuckle. "My girl will be taking my net weaving streak before we know it."

"I think I already have," you teased, to which he ruffled your hair with a fond grin, but it was gone just as quickly when he averted his gaze back to what laid upon the table.

It was like you visibly saw the emotions in his eyes, sad and uncertain like a painful memory. Again, you'd seen your father in this state many times after your mother had passed. You were young, barely even five at the time. Your dad had done a good job at hiding his pain, plastering on his familiar toothy smile, but as the years went on it had only gotten harder. Work was becoming painful, memories were almost too surreal, and as you got older, you saw the looks of pain he'd send your way.

'You look just like your Ma,' he had said one morning over breakfast. He couldn't look at you for the rest of the day after that.

He reached out, fingers tentatively unfolding the delicate material from the table. A dress you realized, definitely not new, but pretty. It was knee length, a small patch at the edge frayed from age and use. A bow wrapped at the waist, barely held together with ribbon, and a square neckline which added simple elegance. You felt the fabric carefully between your fingers, hesitant, almost feeling as though your hands were too rough to touch something so delicate.

"I kept it hidden in the cupboard for some time," your Pa said carefully, eyeing the dress. "I thought your mum would like you to wear it someday. It was hers."

He said it so fondly, so full of longing. In truth, you barely remembered your mother, only having small photos laying around the house of the three of you. Her voice had been lost from your memory long ago, her scent faded from her clothes, but your father never let her memory go. He'd tell you stories from when they were both young, your mother having loved the water just as you did.

You carefully took the dress from his grasp, holding it close and leaning close to give your dad a quick peck on the cheek.

You smiled gently. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Just as you turned to walk to your room and get ready, his cold fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you abruptly. You saw the fear flicker in his eyes, the tremble in his hand as he held you, and it took everything for you not to replicate it. He pulled you into one last hug that made your heart sting.

You had to be brave. Not for yourself, but for him.

You forced a smile, though it wavered at the edges. "It's ok, Pa. I'll be home later tonight, and we can cook some of the fish I caught from this morning."

"So brave," he hummed, squeezing you one last time before his grip slipped, nudging you toward your bedroom door. You held the dress carefully as you stepped into your room, closing the door behind you with a long shaky breath escaping your lips.

You hoped the odds would be in your favor. One last time.

"Pretty dress you got on there, Y/N," Tommy teased with a wriggle of his brows as you walked over. "Don't tell me you wanted to get all dressed up for us?"

You rolled your eyes, feigning a frown. "You don't like it?" you asked, giving a small twirl. Emma, who stood at Tommy's side, elbowed him in the ribs with a shake of her head.

"You can stop being a douchebag now," she scolded, the gates into the Justice building looming over them.

With a small grunt and gasp, Tommy held where Emma had elbowed him with his mouth agape, betrayed. "And here I thought we were all friends," he frowned, though you didn't miss the quirk in his lips.

As you stopped at Emma's side, your gaze wondered over your surroundings. All too familiar but never welcoming. The cement floor was cracked beneath your feet, darkened and dirtied from over the years, and Capitol flags were hung high over the tall iron gates. It was obvious however they'd had a minor cleanup, but nothing too extreme.

Tommy, clad in a light blue button up and brown shorts, adjusted the cuffs over his wrists. His blonde hair was combed back neatly, and it was almost weird seeing him cleaned up as nice as he was. Emma, however, wore one of the many dresses you'd seen hung up in her wardrobe. A sage dress that flowed neatly over her legs, a matching ribbon tying her dark hair back into a bun, and a familiar smell that clung to her. You recognized it to be her older sister's perfume, whether she had 'stolen' a few sprits, or simply been given.

"Don't worry Tom," you patted his back in fake sympathy, mischief hidden in your gaze. "Emma thinks you dressed up real nice today. Even if we both still think you're shrimpy."

You didn't miss the way Emma's cheeks flushed red, and Tommy's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head with a long dramatic groan.

"When will you two stop calling me that?"

Emma let out a small chuckle, cheeks still warm. "A name like that simply can't just go away. You earned it."

It was a year or so ago, when you, Emma and a few other friends had all decided to go fishing one late afternoon. The storm an hour prior had made it a struggle, barely any fish ending up in the nets. The waves had been restless that day, and despite everybody's efforts, no one seemed to be making any big catches.

It was only when Tommy let out a loud cheer, everybody turning to see just what had caught his attention. He was struggling with his casting net, legs dangling over the edge of the dock as he attempted to haul it back up onto the surface with all the strength he could muster.

Of course, it had everybody intrigued.

Finally, Tommy had managed to pull the net up onto the platform only for his expression to fall. The 'big catch' he had been so excited about stared back up at him, a shrimp that kicked its tiny legs around mockingly. You and Emma hadn't been able to stop laughing for the rest of the night.

"Earned it," Tommy repeated with distaste, a scowl on his face. "I'll remember that for the next time one of you embarrasses yourselves. I won't defend you."

"That's ok. Y/N and I have each other," Emma retorted, linking your arms as the three of you silently agreed it was time to go in.

Despite the small jokes, despite the smiles, you could practically feel the tension within your two friends. Tommy with his jaw locked and fingers flexing at his sides, itching to grasp onto something, and then Emma, the falter in her slow steps and flickering gaze. Despite the circumstances, you were grateful they were here with you. It was really the only sense of normality you had as you walked through the lines of trembling children, Peacekeepers lining the walls with guns in hand.

You thought back to your dad, choosing to dwell on the thought of going back home after this was all over. Maybe later in the night, the three of you could go for a late swim, racing between the rocks and crashing waves. It was one of your most favorite things to do in your free time, even if you had to sneak out past curfew and out of sight from the Peacekeepers on duty.

The further the three of you walked into the building, the more crowded it became. Some children, mainly the younger lot, clung to parents and older siblings, grasping at anything they could in fear of being separated. Fresh tears were shed, their small sniffles and whines filling the haunting silence of the room.

Small debris and pebbles crunched beneath your flat shoes, the air filled with the scent of salt and what you could only think to be the faint smell of paper and ink from the sign in sheets. You could make out the front desks a few rows ahead of you, parchment laid out and awaiting the fresh beads of blood. Your stomach churned in discomfort.

Tommy had soon split off into the boy's line, whilst you stood close at Emma's side. You didn't miss the way her whole body basically shook beside you, but you chose not to say anything. Instead, your grip on her was steady and comforting, grounding.

"I heard Nathan Castwell was going to volunteer this year," Emma mumbled, voice low as if she were fearful for anybody else to hear. "Imagine going into the arena with him. And all over a dare, apparently."

You glanced at her, sensing the discomfort in her tone. You didn't know Nathan personally, but you'd seen and spoke to him on few occasions during school and work. From what you'd gathered, he was very head strong and had a daring nature. It didn't surprise you he'd consider participating, he was a career, after all. You and your father could never afford to put you into the program much like a few others from District Four, not that you'd ever want to. People like Nathan, however, had a knack for adrenaline.

Even Emma had been brought into the Careers program with her sisters, though she hated it. She barely attended after she came home one day, spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Never again, she had said with watery eyes.

"I have a feeling the game makers aren't going easy this year," you spoke just as softly.

The words hung in the air between you, like a heavy weight placed on your shoulders. You basked in the thought that this was your last reaping, that after today, your name would never be entered into the glass bowl again. For a moment, just a moment, you let yourself imagine that the Capitols grip from you had loosened.

A lie, you told yourself.

Even if it were your last year in the bowl, you knew deep down that nobody could truly escape the games, whether that was to be reaped or not. Instead, you'd be stuck to watch as other children were ripped from their homes, sent to their deaths like their lives meant nothing for mere entertainment.

Just like how they'd taken Finnick from you.

The line for sign in became closer and closer, and you had to swallow down the lump forming in your throat when the capitol official held out an awaiting hand, to which you hesitantly placed your own in.

Flipping your hand palm up, the lady held a stoic expression as she brought the sharp tip of the needle to your finger, a small wince escaping you once the blood began to bead on the pad of your pointer. You pressed it down onto the parchment, watching as it soaked in, before she ushered you aside and called for Emma next.

She gave you a look when a Peacekeeper nudged you away, ordering you to get into your rows. You smiled encouragingly at her, before turning and finding your place.

You found yourself placed between two girls in your year group, shoulder to shoulder. You recognized one, Lily you think. She was shorter than yourself, but she held her head high. If it weren't for the way you saw her shift from foot to foot, you'd think she wasn't nervous at all.

You watched as the boys and girls filled in, boys to the left and girls to the right. You craned your head, looking down the few rows before spotting a head full of dark hair and the familiar ribbon. She didn't see you, since you were behind a few rows, but Emma had always been good at keeping her composure in front of others she wasn't close to.

The anthem began, loud and booming.

Everybody stayed silent, breaths trembling whilst some stood tall and proud. You glanced around, not caring to listen as Electra Vantell took the stage. Her manicured nails held the microphone, and she took a moment to fluff out the layers of her shimmering dress.

The stage held four Peacekeepers, two on each side of the stairs. Electra stood in the middle as chirpy as ever, then there were the mentors.

You couldn't help it. Your gaze had drifted to him almost instantly. Stood beside who you recognized to be his mentor, Mags, Finnick held his mask well. Charming and cocky, he looked out into the crowd with his familiar Capitol smirk. Skin golden in tan, and eyes just as piercing and sea green as you'd remembered them to be, if not more. It was obvious he'd changed a drastic amount since you were both young, tall and built with sharp features you knew the Capitol citizens fawned over. You wondered how he could hold up a facade for so long, seeing all the cameras practically shoved in his face, and yet he kept his head high and flashed his pearly teeth.

Yes, you'd seen him around the district many times. However, you never stared for too long, fearful he'd feel your burning eyes. But now, you let yourself observe.

"Welcome!"

You let out a breath, suddenly feeling the nerves wash over you like a tidal wave. Electra smacked her lips together with a grin, eyeing the crowd before her.

"Another happy Hunger Games to all! Before we start, as usual, a message from our President."

She clapped her hands together, lips stretching unnaturally wide to reveal teeth too white and polished to be natural. You were sure you'd be able to see your reflection if you were close enough.

The two large screens set above the stage flickered to life, a static hum echoing throughout the building when President Snow's voice boomed over the speakers. You knew this speech all too well, yet you never found yourself actually listening. The Presidents voice rang out throughout the hall, all too powerful and calm.

Electra seemed to glow once the screens shut off, her grin wide and fake. You supposed it was because her favorite part was about to come up, which again sent a wave of unease.

"Let's begin, shall we?" She sauntered over to one of the glass bowls, dipping her long nails inside and swirling her hand tauntingly between the small slips. You nearly felt the tension, the way everybody's breath held in visible anxiety. A moment later, she plucked one singular paper slip out from the bowl and clicked her heels back to the microphone. The air heavy with anticipation, she carefully unfolded the paper.

"Our female tribute for this year's seventieth Hunger Games, Y/N Y/L/N!"

You nearly didn't register your name over the singsong tone, but you knew you'd heard it right. Your ears drummed with your pulse; vision locked on Electra as she glanced around in search for you. You suddenly felt hot, the burning travelling into your ears and cheeks when you felt the eyes of many linger on you sympathetically.

You heard a quiet gasp, faint but there, and you glanced over briefly just in time to see Emma clasp a hand over her mouth, muffling the sob that threatened to spill.

It was almost felt like one of your many dreams, fear building up in your chest that you refused to let them see. Time seemed to stretch weirdly in that moment, everything feeling too slow to be real. Was this real? You really hoped it was just another nightmare. You'd wake up, crawl next to your Pa's bed and let him envelope you in a tight hug, but those wishes vanished when the girl beside you gently nudged you to move.

You did what you'd thought of first.

You plastered on your familiar gentle smile and weaved through the crowd easily. It wasn't until you were at the foot of the stage that Electra had landed eyes on you, not noticing the slight shake in your legs struggling to keep you upright.

"Oh! There she is!" Electra gleamed. "And look how lovely! Your elegance is truly admirable. A swan brought from District Four!"

Her words flew right over your head. Instead, you focused on getting up the stage without doubling over and keeping the tears held at bay. They were watching. You were on screen. You were a target. You wouldn't let them see you look so weak.

A Peacekeeper reached down, offering a hand to help you up the stairs which you gratefully took with a trembling 'thank you'. You saw the guilt flicker in his eyes, the flex of his hand in yours. Maybe you could run, turn and dash out the gates as fast as your legs could take you, but it was only false hope. They'd only catch you again, either dragging you back up the stage by force or shooting you dead right then and there.

Electra Vantell pulled you beside her, smelling too strongly of something sweet.

It was then you started noticing a small commotion at the back of the building, and your heart dropped upon realizing exactly who it was. Your Pa was pushing off hands that tried to stabilize him, throwing his arms out and staring back up at you with nothing but anger.

"Thats my daughter!" He screamed, and you felt your heart race when the stadium went silent.

You carefully glanced over to the many Peacekeepers as your fathers' shouts rang out. You didn't miss the hot tears trickling down his cheeks now as he was hauled away by one of the other dads, his shouts for you almost haunting.

"Nerissa!"

You inhaled sharply, struggling more to hold the tears that threatened to spill over. You refused to look his way any longer.

"Nerissa?" Electra frowned. "Who's that, my darling?"

She held the microphone so close to your lips you might as well have inhaled it. You weren't sure you even had the strength to speak, your throat feeling as though it was caught in a wire trap. You swallowed, thick and slow.

"It's my mother."

Electra frowned, though it didn't hold any sadness. "That's too bad," she hummed, twirling a strand of your hair between her skinny finger before moving away to the boy's bowl.

"For the boys!-"

"I volunteer!"

The voice seemed to have everybody pausing, murmurs breaking out, and then applause. You felt your head spin when you watched a familiar head of brown hair pop out from the crowd, tanned skin and nose littered in little freckles. Nathan laughed upon the many pats on the back he was receiving on the way up, laughter echoing from him and his friends as he easily kicked up the stage. You swore Vantell nearly fell flat on her back when Nathan stood at her side, eyes wide but filled with what you could only suspect was desire.

She let out a light airy laugh. "And our male tributes name for this year?"

Nathan leaned in close, taking the mic from her grasp.

"Nathan Castwell!"

Electra hummed, clapping her hands together along with the rest of the audience, sharp and practiced, though not all joined in. Some hands remained still, lips pressed into thin lines and the air too thick to breathe.

You looked around once more, gaze sweeping over the crowd for your father, Emma, even Tommy, only to become disappointed once you never landed them. The weight of what was to come was pressing on you, suffocating, and none of them were at your side. Your mind felt foggy and jumbled, but one thing played over and over.

You were going to die within the next few weeks.

"Our Tributes for the seventieth hunger games!"

Nathan stood at your right, and you felt his gaze linger for a moment too long before he flashed you a wink, a smirk curving his lips before he held up his hands to the cheers.

Behind him, your eyes met the ones you'd missed so much. You barely got to see the hurt and regret cast in Finnick's gaze before you were escorted to the doors behind you, shielding you from your home and sealing your fate.

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

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

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mariigoldzz · 5 months ago

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I know the love triangle represented Katniss choosing between war and peace but like. I would have loved Gale and Katniss just being besties. Best friends who could tell each other everything.katniss would get home from the victory tour giggling and kicking her feet about Peeta with Gale nodding as he listens to her yap. Gale telling Katniss the tea that happened while she was away. Katniss watching her best friend slowly get radicalized and manipulated by Coin.

Katniss's best friend, who she could tell anything to, being the one who caused Prim's death in the end.

#maybe this is a hot take but!! Platonic bestie everthorne would heal me actually #Somebody make an au #gale hawthorne #katniss everdeen #thg #the hunger games #In my opinion it would be WAYY more impactful if Gale was written as her best friend then being the one to kill Prim.#when he did that in mockingjay it felt almost like an “oh well now she can easily choose Peeta!” sorta thing #Even though everyone knew she would choose Peeta anyway.#everlark #primrose everdeen #mockingjay #Peeta vs Gale #Gale Hawthorne

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liyliths · 4 months ago

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.˚𓅆࿐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 an aot au / inspired by the hunger games

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

series summary: survive. that's all you've known you're entire life - to survive. survive district 12, survive the reaping, and survive the capitol. but when you're reaped for the 98th annual hunger games alongside levi ackerman, will you seize the opportunity of rebellion when it arises? the mockingjay is singing, dear reader, please choose wisely.

“Pretty.” A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. “You look pretty.” You turn around, but can’t quite come up with the right words to say. “Thanks,” you muster up, meeting the girl’s amber eyes. “Are you ready?” The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn’t look like she wants to face the reaping either. “I guess so.”

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

contains: fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt and comfort, semi canon compliant, character death, descriptions of blood, phycological trauma, rebellion, this is gonna hurt but be so rewarding, and any other warnings that come with aot characters/the hunger games universe

word count: 6.5k

playlist

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You've hated the capitol for as long as you can remember. You hate them for everything they've taken away from you. The people you've lost, the cruelties woven into everyday life, the way you've had to survive, and the games. The Hunger Games. Who came up with them anyway?

You know better than to ever dare say anything out loud about it.

It was all about control. After the thirteen districts were defeated in the rebellion, twelve remained. The capitol created the Hunger Games—a brutal punishment for the districts, forcing their children to fight to the death in an arena every year on the anniversary of the capitol's victory. The games are broadcast across Panem, turning slaughter into spectacle, while the people in the capitol sit comfortably with their champagne, watching children kill each other for their entertainment.

It was cruel. You hated how you couldn't do anything about it, how you couldn't save any of the innocent children sent to be slaughtered. All you could do was live with it. That's all anyone could do—and hope to hell they wouldn't be selected for the games.

You don't think the people in the capitol quite understand what the districts go through, especially in the slums of District 12. You can't remember how long it's been since you've been fending for yourself... it feels like that's how your entire life has been. All you know is survival.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, fidgeting with the collar of your blue blouse, styled with a neat beige skirt you borrowed from the mayor's daughter. Even though you've never been particularly close, a few years ago she was kind enough to offer you presentable clothing for this dreadful day every year. It became a tradition between you two.

Perhaps she pitied you, or maybe she is genuinely kind. Probably both.

The reaping was today. Today, they gather all the children from each district to their town center and draw two unlucky names from a bowl to fight to the death. You know better than to expect to see someone from twelve make it back from the games. No one in District 12 comes back.

"Pretty." A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. "You look pretty."

You turn around, but can't quite come up with the right words to say.

"Thanks," you muster up, meeting the girl's amber eyes.

"Are you ready?" The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn't look like she wants to face the reaping either.

"I guess so."

This was the last year either of you were eligible for the games, with the cutoff age being eighteen. The final reaping you'd ever have to endure. You're not sure if that's a relief or a curse because after this, you can't put your name in for extra rations anymore.

You've put in extra entries since you were twelve for more rations, or tessare. As they've stacked up over the years, your odds are now seventeen times worse.

That means nothing to lose, right?

One thing about District 12 is that it's never quiet. Usually, the bustling sounds of conversation come from the market, along with the sound of pickaxes against coal, and kids running around with the town strays. The only sounds you can hear today are the dread-filled footsteps of children and anxious parents walking toward the town center. Everyone takes their time heading to the reaping.

Not even the birds sing today.

The peacekeepers with ugly white suits stare, making sure everything is going smoothly. You see two girls holding hands. The mayor's daughter walks in silence beside you. Her father said his goodbyes, he said he'll see her for supper and she believes it. You know better than to tell yourself you'll be back, just in case the worst happens. Boys and girls alike between the ages twelve through eighteen file into the town hall after getting their identities verified by the peacekeepers.

Everyone is quiet.

After the children get checked in, everyone settles to their selective spots—the girls and boys in opposite sections and parents nervously waiting for their children on the sidelines. A tap on the microphone in center stage rings through your ears from the speakers, startling you amidst the silence.

"Welcome!" A lady beams with a twisted smile, excitedly surveying the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor."

You feel yourself scoffing at that. This lady recites the same shit every year, with the same bright ugly hair and outfit, although they change colors each time. You always wonder what she's going to wear next.

"Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the capitol!" The lady announces, shifting her focus to the projection screen strung up in the town center for all to see.

You tune the video out every year. You don't want to hear the capitol bullshit about "generosity" or "forgiveness", you find it rather ironic. If this was about a lesson for the districts after the rebellion, why carry it on for generations?

You don't think you'll ever find the answer to that, that is just how it is. However, one thing is certain—you know the capitol is twisted.

"Are you alright?" The amber-eyed girl whispers to you, genuine concern etched on her face. She is nervous too—you notice the way her hands fumble with the insides of her skirt pockets.

"I'm ready to get this over with," you lean over, whispering to the girl. You see her nod in agreement out of your peripheral vision. Soon enough, the bullshit video was over and the bright-haired lady's insufferable voice echoed through the town hall once more.

"I just love that!" The lady gushed, but was quick to move on to the next "exciting" order of business. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 98th annual Hunger Games!"

She paused, as if waiting for some sort of applause. She didn't get one.

"Well, as usual... ladies first." She flashed a bright smile, disappointment lingering on her face. It makes you wonder if she enjoys being the one picking children to be sent to the games, as if she should be praised.

You watch her waddle to the left side of the outdoor stage in her heels, oh-so-gracefully dipping her hand into the reaping bowl for the girls and filing through the pieces of paper with entry names. You look at the ginger next to you, she looks even more nervous than just a few moments ago. You want to comfort her, but before you can say anything, the capitol lady on the stage pulls out an entry and waddles back to the microphone.

Seventeen entries. Your name is entered in that bowl seventeen times.

The bright-haired lady awkwardly fumbles with the paper and squints through the sunlight beaming under the clouds as she reads the entry. She takes a deep breath before she announces the name. Everyone is holding their breath. It's quiet.

"Petra Ral!"

You think you can feel your heart stop.

The ginger next to you, Petra—froze in place. Everyone knew her as the mayor's daughter, which meant everyone knew exactly where to look for her in the crowd. All eyes were on her. You glance up to the stage where you saw her father, the mayor, stand up in his seat to protest, but was quickly blocked by peacekeepers.

"Come on up, dear." The bright-haired lady quips, beckoning the ginger to the stage with an oh-so-welcoming smile.

You glance at Petra, and your eyes lock with her amber ones. You think the look on her face might haunt you for the rest of your life.

She knows she's going to die in those games. You know she's going to die in those games.

The crowd around you and the selected tribute clear the way for the two peacekeepers marching toward the ginger. You can only watch as they grab the side of her arms and escort her toward the stage. She tries to thrash away from their grip, but it's useless.

She won't last a day in that arena. Between the careers, the mutts, and whatever else the gamemakers throw at her, she won't make it. It's not fair.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not...

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words burst from your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. The peacekeepers stop in their tracks. It's quiet again.

"Oh! I believe we have a volunteer!" The capitol lady claps enthusiastically from the stage.

You feel a new set of peacekeeper's arms wrap around yours. Your limbs feel practically numb as they drag you up to the stage. You pass Petra as the other peacekeepers take her back to her place in the crowd. You don't even look at her. You have to stay strong. You know every camera in the town hall is on you.

It just shows the capitol doesn't care who gets picked for the games, mayor's child or not.

She has everything to lose. What do you?

"This is District 12's very first volunteer!" The bright-haired lady announces excitedly, putting her hand on your back once you bring yourself up the steps to the stage, carefully guiding you toward the center.

"What is your name?" She asks, her colorful eyelashes batting at you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Y/N L/N."

"Well now, let's have a big round of applause for our very first volunteer!" The lady requests, but no one follows her as she begins to applaud.

Your eyes lock with Petra's from the stage. Then, something unexpected happens. Three middle fingers of her left hand touch her lips, and she raises them to the sky. The rest of the crowd follows Petra, one by one, putting three fingers in the air as a salute.

You know what that gesture means. It's an old and rarely used sign of your district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

You can tell the bright-haired lady doesn't know what to do at this point. She pauses for a moment, but quickly moves on. She's good at deferring. "Now, for the boys!"

This time, she doesn't take her time grabbing an entry, most likely eager to get the ceremony over with. She hastily waddles in her stilettos back to the microphone from the entry bowl, unfolding the paper and putting on a gleeful smile.

"Levi Ackerman!"

You watch the tension among the crowd of boys visibly drop, a collective sigh of relief settling over them, except for one. His posture remains rigid, muscles tight as all eyes shift to him. He's lean, with dark raven hair that looks vaguely familiar. His gaze darts around in disbelief as peacekeepers move in, gripping his arms. He brashly jerks against their hold, trying to break free, but it's no use. His expression shifts sharply, anger flashing across his face like a spark ready to ignite.

You wonder if he'll accept it—his fate. You don't even know if you have. No one from District 12 comes back from the games.

The black-haired boy is placed beside you as the capitol lady reapproaches the microphone after greeting him, rather cheerful. You think her voice might give you a headache. "Here they are, our tributes for District 12!"

You know what everyone's thinking. I'm sorry it was you, but I'm grateful it wasn't me.

You flinch at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning to see the bright-haired lady grinning at you. "Well, come on you two, shake hands!" She says and takes a step back, allowing you to get a good look at the boy next to you.

Now that you've met his eyes, the unmistakable silver-blue irises staring back at you—you do recognize him.

He wasn't much better-off than you, he was an orphan too, fighting to survive in a world that gave him nothing. One night during a terrible rainstorm, the bakery burned a batch of bread, and that's when he saw you, hollow-eyed and starving. Despite his own hunger, he was able to salvage one loaf of bread out of the pigs pen and shared it with you after getting chased off by the bakers. He split it with you without a word, expecting nothing back in return.

You're forever grateful for that.

He is the first one to reach out his hand, his eyes carefully gazing into yours. You wonder if he remembers too. You raise your hand and return the handshake. You grip his hand, rough calluses brushing against yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The bright-haired lady starts to speak again before you two can finish.

"Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Though, you both know your odds are fucked.

The guards escorted you and your district partner to waiting rooms inside of the town hall to say goodbye to anyone who might want to, usually family or friends. You're only given a handful of minutes, but you don't exactly expect anyone to walk through that door. Hell, you wouldn't even blame Petra if she didn't.

With your hand on the windowsill, you rest your weight against it, taking in these last few minutes until you're hauled off to the capitol. You know you aren't likely to ever see your home again. You know you'll miss it, the woods have always been home. Unexpectedly, the doors burst open and you're met with none other than the mayor's daughter, Petra.

"You didn't have to," you whisper. It's no use. Although you two were never particularly close, she still rushes up to you and scoops you into a big hug. Your arms reluctantly reach around her back, taking a shaky breath.

Petra pulls back from you, her expression almost in shock. "I thought—I thought I was... I don't know how I can ever repay you for this!"

You can't help but smile at her generosity. "You don't need to. There's no use anyway."

The ginger shakes her head furiously. "I've seen your hauls when you come back from the woods! You can hunt," she speaks quickly, she knows she's running out of time with you. "You can hunt, and you're a survivor. You can win this."

Your smile fades, and you feel yourself sigh. You don't want to let her get her hopes up for your return. You can't.

"Petra, you and I both know no one from District 12 comes back—"

"Don't you dare speak of such things. Make them pay," she interrupts, her voice lower. She nods, almost to herself, cautiously scanning her surroundings before reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a shiny pin.

She hands it to you—it's gold, with a bird in motion of flight in the center. It's a Mockingjay.

The Capitol originally engineered a mutation known as the Jabberjay, designed during the rebellion to eavesdrop on rebels and spies by recording and repeating conversations. However, the districts quickly caught on, using the Jabberjays to spread false information. Once they outlived their usefulness, the capitol abandoned them in the wild, expecting them to die off. Instead, the Jabberjays mated with female Mockingbirds, creating an entirely new species—the Mockingjay.

You're not quite sure what Petra meant by 'they', either, but before you have the chance to ask, or rather, thank her for the pin—a peacekeeper barges through the door announcing your time is up, and begins to escort Petra out of the room. You shove the pin in your skirt pocket, hoping to the gods the peacekeeper didn't see it, only able to watch as Petra gets dragged away from you.

"You have to try!" She says one more time, but this time, you give an optimistic reply, though you can't help but doubt yourself. "I will!"

As soon as you finish your sentence, the door is slammed shut behind the peacekeepers as they drag Petra out. You are left alone in the suffocating silence of the dim room once again, aside from the sound of your uneven breathing.

You hate this. You hate knowing that you're never going to see her or your home ever again.

You and Levi are hauled in a military vehicle to the bullet train along with the annoying bright-haired lady. You can't help but tune her blabbering out, and judging off the look on Levi's face, you think he's doing the same. After a short while, you are escorted onto the train that travels between the districts and to the capitol.

You'd never seen it in person, but it definitely exceeded your expectations. The train's shiny silver metal reflects against the sunlight, almost blinding you. It is infamous for the high speeds it travels at. You're not exactly sure how fast it goes, but you know it can reach the other side of the country within a day.

When you step inside of the train, you're met with the most luxurious interior you've ever laid your eyes on. There are sets of velvet furniture, walls adorned with exclusive wallpaper, paired with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A delicious scent overwhelms you, and your mouth waters at the next thing you lay your eyes on—food. Practically enough to feed the entire population of District 12 if rationed out properly.

There are pastries, plenty of fruit, along with a great selection of cheese and meats. The only time you've been able to eat meat was when you caught your own in the woods, usually squirrels or rabbits, but on rare occasions—deer.

The dark-haired boy beside you seems just as stunned as you are, both of you frozen at the sight of the food laid out before you. It feels almost selfish to have this much when everyone back in District 12 is starving. Guilt knots in your chest as you hesitate before slowly stepping toward the table overflowing with beautiful dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your district partner fall into step beside you, just as hesitant.

It's not fair.

You both eat anyway.

The first thing you reach for is a fresh roll of bread, still warm, its soft crust glistening with a light coat of melted butter. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Levi picking up a pastry—a cheese danish. You'd had the chance to try one once, traded by a kind woman at the market for a couple squirrels. To this day, you think it was the best thing you've ever tasted.

As you're stuffing your face with bread rolls, a bubbly voice chirps from behind you. "Pace yourselves, you two!"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's not like she'd understand—raised in the capitol, she's so out of touch it's almost humorous. Nothing you can do about that.

"Good grief," a gruff voice follows after the sound of a door opening. You turn from the table to look at the man, his expression almost as unimpressed as you feel. "Let them eat."

The first thing you notice about him is the unsteady way he staggers toward you, followed quickly by the sharp, rancid scent of alcohol hitting your nose. He's drunk, no question about it. As he draws closer, you get a better look at him. Short blond hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes that flick lazily between you and Levi, sizing you both up disinterestedly.

"Congratulations," the drunkard slurs, snatching a glass from the nearby table, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he hovers over the selection of bottles. After a brief, careless scan, he settles on an amber-colored liquor, filling it to the brim without a second thought.

You and Levi exchange an uncertain glance before shifting your attention back to the man, watching as he stumbles toward a seat beside you. He drops into it with an exasperated sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before grandly gesturing for you and the dark-haired boy to sit across from him. Hesitant, but with little choice, you both obey, sinking into the stiff cushions of a square sofa.

The man says nothing—just sits there, staring at the two of you. You grow uncomfortable underneath his gaze, but before you get the chance to break the silence, your district partner does it for you.

"You're supposed to be our mentor?"

The drunk lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his drink before setting the glass down with a dull thud on the table beside him. From behind, the bright-haired woman pipes up, her voice demanding. "Show Hannes some respect! He's won these games before!"

You scoff under your breath. Respect? You're expected to put on your best manners while being shipped off to the Hunger Games—on top of discovering your mentor is a washed-up drunk? What a joke.

You doubt this guy will even try to be of any help, but it's worth a shot. You lean forward in your seat, raising an eyebrow. "So, what great advice do you have for us, Hannes?"

The drunk smirks. "Well sweetheart," he exaggerated, "the best advice I can offer you is to accept, deep in your heart, that you will not be making it out of that arena."

The bright-haired lady, whom you have yet to figure out the name of, gasps. "Hannes! Don't be absurd!"

Levi's jaw tightens, a scowl settling across his face as he stews in silence. Then, without warning, he shoots up from his chair, reaching to snatch the glass from Hannes' hand. You can only watch as the drunk resists, gripping the glass stubbornly until Levi yanks it free with more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshes out, splattering across Hannes' white button-up, leaving dark stains that will definitely not wash out.

"Sober up, then we can have a mature conversation." Levi hisses, his glare burning into the drunk's hazel eyes.

Hannes lets out a frustrated huff, snatching the now-empty glass from Levi's hands before storming off from his seat through the automatic door, disappearing into another room. Shifting your gaze, you glance up at the dark-haired boy as he settles back into a seat across from you, looking surprisingly content after the outburst.

"What?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "That went well."

"He'll come around! I'll be back," the bright-haired woman chirps, her arms swinging dramatically as she strides after Hannes, disappearing into the other room and leaving you alone with Levi.

Silence settles between you. You don't know what to say to him—not that it would matter. You're both thinking the same thing anyway. Hannes was probably right. The odds of either of you making it back home are slim, between the careers, mutts, and whatever other nightmares the gamemakers have waiting.

"Do you have anyone back home?" You break the silence, solely in an attempt to escape your thoughts, even if it's just for a moment.

"No," he says without looking at you. "You?"

You purse your lips together. "Nope."

Silence suffocates the room once more. You figure there's nothing more to talk about at this point, it's just a matter of getting through the week until the games commence. You're not exactly eager to get close to Levi. What's the point? Neither of you are making it out of the arena. And even if you did, it wouldn't be together. One of you might turn on the other. The idea sounds ridiculous, but when it comes to survival, you can't doubt the intentions of anyone.

As your eyes drift to the wooden grandfather clock by the automatic door, you can't help but wonder—is there a way out? A way out of the games, a way out of the system. But after 98 long years of their existence, you're certain the capitol has thought of everything. Every possible scenario, every desperate attempt a tribute might make to escape—it's all definitely been accounted for.

Later, the bright-haired woman whose name you learn is Valerie, returns alone, clearly unsuccessful in coaxing Hannes back. To pass the time, she decides to give you and Levi a tour of the train. You can't even begin to fathom how much one room might be worth, let alone the entire bullet train. When she finally shows you to your bedroom, offering some privacy, you almost gape at the sheer luxury laid out before you.

Dark wallpaper with undecorated walls surround the room, with a chandelier reflecting a beautiful dim yellow glow in the center. The bed is massive, you figure you could fit about six people on there if they squeezed together, and the decor is nothing you've seen before, rich with details you can't even name. Off to the side, you have your own luxurious bathroom with unlimited warm water, along with a huge walk-in closet, its walls lined with endless amounts of clothing. It's overwhelming, to say the least.

You find yourself shuffling toward the bed laden with silk sheets, taking a seat as the canvas of the bedframe embraces you. As you sat, you felt something in your pocket prod at you—the pin Petra gave you. Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket, examining the details. You were never sure about Petra, but you suppose that maybe after all... she was the closest thing you had to a friend.

Your fingers delicately trace the pattern of the Mockingjay on the gold pin.

It brings back memories of simpler days, sitting beneath the trees, listening to the Mockingjays sing alongside your younger sister in the forest sometime after you both lost your parents. You remember it was her favorite bird—you'd listen to her hum melodies, and they'd sing the tune right back.

Those days weren't exactly simpler. Food was always scarce. Your mother wasn't around, and your father was always too busy in the mines to help with food. You managed, but once your parents were gone, it was your responsibility to keep you and your sister alive.

And it was hard. Really hard.

Your father had taught you how to use a bow and arrow. On rare occasions, he'd sneak you past the electric fence into the forest outside District 12, strictly forbidden territory, to hunt a few squirrels for supper.

Once, you snuck out into the forest on your own without his permission. When you returned with two squirrels in hand, proud of your catch, your father was furious. You knew it was because he was scared for you and your family, worried about what could've happened if you'd been caught. You understood the risks—but you also understood the consequences of coming home empty-handed.

You stopped sneaking out into the forest, and yes—your family barely scraped by. Once it was just you and your sister, you had no other choice for your survival to go back into the woods just to eat. Sometimes, if you got extra game, you would sell or trade it at the market, and that always helped.

The winters were always harsh. So harsh.

You and your sister were lucky enough to keep living in your parents' house, but luck didn't mean much when there was hardly any food or warmth. By the time winter crept in, the rations from extra entries were nearly gone, and the thick layers of snow drove all the animals into hiding. You were only thirteen, just a kid when you had to fend for you and your sister.

That was your only job—keep yourself going so you can keep your sister alive. Yet, you managed to fail.

The winter was particularly terrible that year, you and your sister were living off just about nothing. You had no firewood, no food scraps, and no warmth—just each other. But it wasn't enough. She fell ill and you did everything you could. You tried to access medical assistance, which was practically unheard of in District 12, so you did what you could with what little you had, trying to nurse her back to health on your own.

But it wasn't enough.

One morning when the sun rose, you went to wake your sister before you planned to go beyond the prohibited fence into the forest, desperate to find any signs of game. She had been sick—terribly sick, and deep down, you knew it. When you tried to wake her, gently cupping her cheek in your cold hands—you found no signs of warmth in her skin. You felt her hands. Her arms. Her body. Everything was frozen cold.

You tried to shake her awake. But she didn't stir. She never woke.

So yes, the capitol never did anything to you, but you've seen the way they've neglected your family, children, the homeless, the starving, exploited the districts—everyone. Even the privileged among the districts, such as Petra, the mayor's daughter—were not safe from the capitol. No one was.

It's not fair.

So yes, maybe they have done something to you. Maybe it is personal.

You remember Petra's words. "Make them pay," she said. You didn't understand what she meant back then, but now you think you do. You're not sure how, but you know you want to.

You need to make them pay.

"Rise and shine, dear!" A jarring voice ruptures you from your slumber, forcing you to rise from your bed with a gasp—only to see the bright-haired lady... what was her name again? Oh... Valerie.

"Breakfast is getting cold!" She adds with a sing-song voice as she draws the blackout curtains open, revealing the mountains you're passing through in flashes of speed your vision simply cannot keep up with. You groan as the morning light meets your eyes, covering your vision with your arm for some relief as your senses are overloaded.

She prances out of your room, only before adding in a quick, "chop, chop!"

That was the best sleep you think you've gotten in years. Though, today is the day you arrive at the capitol, one day closer to the games. You take your time getting up, you don't really care if your food is cold—food is food. You can't complain, long story short. Finding the bathroom connected to your room, you turn on the warm faucet water and splash it onto your face, refreshing yourself before you make your way to the dining room with the others.

When the automatic door slides open, you're met with Valerie who flashes a polite smile at you whilst sipping on a fancy cup of warm coffee, along with Levi and your bright mentor, Hannes, sitting at the wooden dining table. Your presence catches Hannes' attention, and he beckons you over to the table.

You grab a pastry before sitting down with the two of them. You're not sure what it is, but it's still warm, fresh out of the oven, melting in your mouth with the first bite. Sliding into a seat across from Hannes and beside the dark-haired boy, you catch the fresh, crisp scent of clean fabric—briefly comforting—before it's quickly overpowered by the sharp, bitter sting of alcohol wafting from Hannes, making you grimace.

You scoff, gesturing at the empty glass sat in front of the blonde mentor. "Really? Starting off your day strong, I see."

He chuckles at that, shaking his head lightly. "It's not the strong stuff dear, relax."

"Levi here was the one to convince the man to lay off, be sure to thank him." Valerie chimes in from across the room, sitting in a velvet chair as she sips her coffee.

You steal a glance at the boy beside you, meeting his sharp, silver-blue eyes. He's clearly holding back a scowl, though his face doesn't seem built for anything resembling a warm expression. You guess you can't really blame him.

As you settle in your seat, you're suddenly swarmed with enormous plates of food placed in front of you from the maids. There's eggs, sausages, and even pancakes with a side of syrup. They set two glasses of juice in front of you and Levi, and you can't help but give a small nod as a thank you when they depart.

You gratefully accept the plate of food set in front of you, digging into the pancakes first. They remind you of a Christmas morning long ago, when your mother had managed to gather the ingredients for a special breakfast. These pancakes don't taste quite like hers, but it's a rare treat nonetheless. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Levi beside you, silently forking a sausage and slicing it apart with precise movements of his knife.

As the two of you ate, Hannes couldn't help himself but watch you and Levi try and act polite before the abundance of food, because he too lived in District 12, starving like the rest of you. He knew what it was like, but he wouldn't judge the tributes that ate like it was their last meal, because likely—it was.

"So," you mumble as you chew. "You sober enough to try and actually help us out now?"

Your mentor can't help but stifle a laugh as he refills his beverage with some sort of new red colored alcohol—you have no idea what it could be. He simply ignores your question, reaching for a fabric napkin to wipe the few drops of alcohol he accidentally spilt on the table. You see an opportunity to get his attention.

If you want a shot at this, you'll have to make him realize you're serious about it.

Swiftly, your hand reaches over to Levi's table knife and you clutch it in a fist, plunging it into the napkin Hannes tried to lift. It gets pinned to the wood of the table just right between his fingers. Your mentor's eyes go wide, shock plastered across his face as if you've completely lost your mind. Beside you, Levi fights back a grin, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You hear a gasp across the dining room from Valerie, who slammed her almost-empty cup of coffee on the table beside her. "That is mahogany!"

You watch her get up and storm off to the other room. You're not even sure what that word is supposed to mean, but you realize she was talking about the wood that the table was made of.

"Well then, look at you!" Hannes raises his eyebrows, yanking his nearly punctured hand back from the table. "You killed a napkin."

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls the knife from the wooden table, setting it neatly back with Levi's silverware. His expression shifts, growing slightly more serious. "You really wanna know how to stay alive? You get people to like you."

You don't respond, your gaze locked on his with quiet defiance. Hannes gestures to the center of the room, his patience thinning. "Stand over here. Both of you."

Reluctantly, you and Levi obey. He rises from his seat, moving to circle you and your district partner. Surprisingly, he's not stumbling like he was the day before. You guess he is in-fact a bit more sober, although it is just the beginning of the day. His eyes rake over both of you, scrutinizing every detail—your features, your posture, the tension in your muscles, examining everything visible on the surface.

"You're not entirely helpless," he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Once the stylists clean you up, you might even secure a few sponsors." He pauses, then smirks. "Though, you both have about as much charm as a dead rat."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Gee, thanks."

Levi's glare sharpens, but Hannes ignores it, leaning in slightly. "Listen, if you can agree to not interfere with my drinks..." His eyes narrow, reluctantly finishing his sentence. "...I'll help you, but you have to do exactly as I say."

You raise an eyebrow at that as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You turn to Levi, exchanging a quick glance before he turns back to face Hannes. "Fine."

"So what do we need to do first?" You ask. "How can we—"

"The first thing you need to do is comply with your stylists," Hannes starts, grabbing the glass left on the mahogany table to take a swig of his red drink. "We'll be at the capitol station in a few minutes, and you'll be put in their hands. You're not going to like what the stylists do, but don't resist."

You furrow your brows together, shaking your head in confusion. "But—"

"No buts, just trust me." says Hannes. He takes his glass drink along with a new bottle of amber alcohol, treading toward the automatic door to the other room, leaving you and Levi alone.

As the door slid shut, the windows in the dining room darkened. You realized you're in the tunnels of the mountain that lead into the city of Panem, just where the capitol and all of its citizens reside. The chandeliers in the room still keep it well-lit, but it is still dark enough to assume it's night if you weren't paying attention.

Both you and Levi can't help but feel yourself drawn toward the windows, tentatively walking to them. As you watch the tunnels blur past, a sudden burst of blinding light floods your vision, forcing you to squint against the harsh glare. When your eyes finally adjust, the sight before you steals the breath from your lungs.

You're in the heart of the capitol—a bustling city with modern buildings and skyscrapers stretching as far as you can see. It's overwhelming, far more vibrant and abundant than anything you've ever seen broadcasted back home. You realize now just how much you underestimated it.

The train begins to slow, and soon you're met with the sight of the capitol's grand train station—along with swarms of people, hundreds of capitol citizens gathered outside, cheering wildly as they catch sight of you and the dark-haired boy through the window. Their outlandish outfits are a chaotic blur of colors, so bright and jarring it's almost blinding. Each shade is louder than the last, a dizzying mess of vibrance that's almost too much to take in all at once.

You shake your head, watching as the swarm of capitol citizens wave and cheer at you while the train grinds to a halt. "I can't believe they look at us like we're..."

"Animals in their zoo," Levi finishes your sentence, his stoic eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah," you breathe, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the small pin tucked into your skirt pocket.

Levi gives you a slight, reassuring nod, his silver-blue eyes steady on yours. "You ready?"

You can't help but feel nostalgic at those words, remembering it was just yesterday when you told Petra you were ready to leave for the reaping. You thought you were. And even this time, you're not entirely sure.

"I guess so."

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a/n: a huge shoutout to my friend, aka my beta reader! i am so excited to write this fic and please let me know your thoughts, if you have any questions/theories, or if you want me to write a drabble for levi! thank you for reading! :)

taglist: @fleshandbonez @reivelmin @estella-novella @zoozvie @snoopyluver20 comment and ask to be added!

likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader series #aot x reader #aot #attack on titan x reader #the hunger games #attack on titan au #aot au #shingeki no kyojin #snk #hunger games #hunger games au #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader fluff #dystopia #the mockingjay sings

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magicpiano · 1 month ago

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I have seen a few AUs where Haymitch is in the 75th games, but they all seem to have the same ending: Haymitch gets out to 13 and Peeta is captured by the capital. I get the reason people write it like this, but honestly I want a role swap AU with hijacked Haymitch.

In sotr we learned that what really happened in Haymitch's games was so different from what was shown. Now imagine if after the torture, even Haymitch isn't sure which version of reality is real or not?

The entirety of the 50th games is one of Beetee's worst memories, yet he is one of the only people able to tell Haymitch what is and isn't real. What if he was made to hate the memory of Lenore Dove just to fulfill Snow's fantasy of revenge? What if he was made to believe he killed her on purpose?

There is sooooo much potential here.

#haymitch abernathy #peeta mellark #the hunger games #thg #sotr #sunrise on the reaping #mockingjay #beetee latier #it doesn't even need to be a Haymitch in the 75th AU #but that seems logical since that is what happened to peeta #lenore dove #haydove #hunger games au #the hunger games au #my post #another thing i want to write but probably won't have the time to

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andorerso · 7 months ago

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rebelcaptain + the hunger games au

When Jyn Erso was eight years old, her mother died and her father left to become a gamemaker for the Hunger Games. Adopted by Saw Gerrera, her mother's friend, she became Jyn Gerrera and was forbidden from ever revealing her true identity to anyone. Ten years later, it's Jyn's last reaping. Saw, the forgotten victor of the 32nd Hunger Games, had rejected every reward the Empire offered him, preferring to live as a recluse at the edge of the forest in District 12, as opposed to the luxury in the Victors' Village. It's been decades since anyone in the district even recalled that Saw was once a victor himself, but he had made sure to teach Jyn all he knew of self-defense and combat training. It's the only thing she has of him left since his passing two years ago. Now, Jyn just wants to get through her last reaping and survive. But when she hears the name of the young girl she trades with sometimes, Jyn doesn't hesitate to volunteer in her place. She has nothing to lose, except her life, and every reason to believe that with Saw's training, she has a chance at winning the games. A chance that 12-year-old Kerri Andor wouldn't have. Things get a little more complicated when Kerri's brother is picked as the other tribute. Jyn is good at surviving, but Cassian, with his quiet cunning and surprising talent with a bow and arrow, could be a threat. Not to mention that Jyn knows he's the sole provider for his young sister and aging mother; a family who needs him. Who may die without him. Nobody is waiting for Jyn back home. When their mentor's plan to make them seem like star-crossed lovers triples the attention and sponsors they receive, Jyn is forced to play along with the scheme and pretend she has feelings for Cassian. Worst of all? She's not sure where pretending ends and where genuine feelings begin. The gamemakers say they can both go home if they're the last two tributes standing, but Jyn knows better than to believe the pretty promises of the Empire. Soon, she'll have to make a choice. Will she do anything to survive? Or will she let Cassian Andor go home to his family - even at the cost of her own life?

#rebelcaptain #rogue one #dailyrebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #swedit #rogueoneedit #tuserjyn #usertina #rebelsmik #tusersimone #*graphics #*rebelcaptain #thg au #save #i have thoughts #i think jyn and cassian are both more katniss than peeta #although cassian certainly has some peeta traits especially their ability to lie and manipulate #but cassian is far less ~golden boy~ and far more directly lethal than peeta who doesn't kill anyone in the games #i also think the bow and arrow make more sense for him since he's a sniper and jyn is more hand-to-hand combat #and then jyn's the one who volunteers like katniss but cassian's the one with a family relying on him #katniss has the desire to survive for her family and jyn has survival instincts but she has no one to go back for #cassian does #which i think makes for an interesting dilemma for him #because he doesn't think he can stomach killing jyn but if he dies what will happen to kerri?#for that reason i think the trick with the berries may come from him #jyn who has spent the last two years achingly alone feels she has nothing to survive for #she has a fondness for kerri and has grown to care deeply about cassian so ultimately i think she'd want to give the victory to him #cassian is the one who has to be like 'no we do this together or not at all'#but then if we go further into catching fire and mockingjay territory i think ultimately jyn's the spark #although would it still make sense if cassian did the trick with the berries? i don't know

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maysrinn · 7 months ago

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Can we get our queen Lucy pregnant she would obviously be glowing 👑

The queen lives & rises…barely…👑

She’s ✨glowing✨

even when she says otherwise

District AU Lucy gray for u all~ she’s busy cooking the first little gremlin to completion

…Gotta get yet permission from president snow to show the first lady in public 🥀

#tbosas #snowbaird #lucy gray baird #local pregnant musician screaming at mockingjays #thats her title she defends with pride #menace to district society #first lady lucy gray is not available at the moment…#coriolanus snow #alternate universe #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #pregnant #hunger games #thg #im delulu #district au

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imnotadogiswear · 4 months ago

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Hunger Games au but Thresh is a victor from another year. It would be super interesting, especially considering how he refuses to ‘play’ the game.

#or an au where Thresh becomes the mockingjay #I want to know more about district 11 #the hunger games #thresh thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #rue thg #coriolanus snow #thg seeder #thg chaff #fanfiction ideas

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javistg · 1 year ago

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One Victor. CH 27.

One Victor CH 27 is ready!

I'm sure you weren't expecting this one so soon after the last one 😉

Let me know what you think. ❤️

Celebration.

Commander Boggs glanced around the room. “If no one has anything else to add…” Everyone remained silent. “Looks like we’re done here. You’re all free to go back to your schedules, thank you.”

Katniss, Gale, and Peeta waited for the room to clear. They were about to stand up when Cinna and Portia approached them.

“Hey, Peeta,” Cinna greeted. Focusing on the victor’s companions, he asked, “Katniss, Gale, do you have anything pressing on your schedule right now?”

The hunters shook their heads.

“Would you mind coming to our atelier? We could get those fittings out of the way.”

“Sure,” Katniss stood up, “no problem.”

Behind her, Gale grumbled something under his breath, but mimicked her motions all the same.

“Shall I go too?” Peeta asked.

“No,” Portia said, “we’re all done with you for now.” Leaning closer to him, she mock-whispered, “I’d invite you over, but we need to focus on their outfits, and we don’t have enough space to have guests.”

“Fine,” Peeta shrugged, “I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’ll just go look for some noble chore to occupy my time.”

Laughing, Portia patted his back and, with that, the hunters and stylists were on their way.

Want to keep on reading? You can find the rest of the chapter on AO3 and FF.net

Like my beautiful banner? @alwayseverlark made it for me.

#one victor #things i write #victor!Peeta #mockingjay AU #everlark fanfiction

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thebritishdragon · 2 days ago

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Meet my two new Sonic ocs. I like them, they were fun to design!

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3fluffies · 27 days ago

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Fic Update: Songs of War (Hunger Games Trilogy AU)

Songs of War: Sequel to Favors. AU of Mockingjay. The Second Rebellion erupts after destruction of the 76th Hunger Games arena and rescue of the tributes, but some of the victors and the rebel victors’ families are in the Capitol’s hands. Katniss, Haymitch, their fellow victors, and loved ones from home all struggle to make a difference in the chaos and pain of war and keep their eyes on the goal of true freedom and justice for the Districts. And even though it’s been two years since Peeta suicided in the 74th arena to hand her the crown, Katniss still has him to lean on.

Chapter 2: Ante Up. Katniss struggles with the implications of being the Mockingjay as soldiers, victors, and propo-makers quarrel over how hard to pressure her, and Madge and other survivors of District 12 ponder their own roles in the Second Rebellion. Katniss visits District 12 with Madge, Gale and Rory, and Peeta's brothers to discover Snow has left her a calling card amid the bones and ashes. Next, the rebel victors are horrified by the Capitol's next counter-attack: proof that many of their missing fellow victors and loved ones are hostages in Capitol hands.

Enjoy! Discussion and debate joyfully welcomed, as are questions and criticism of all kinds! Feedback! My kingdom for feedback!

#my fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction #mockingjay au #hunger games trilogy au #hunger games au #catching fire au #katniss everdeen #madge undersee #district 13 #gale hawthorne #delly cartwright #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #cashmere and gloss

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ninjapiratelady · 2 months ago

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What if, instead of there being the whole "she'll choose who she can't survive without", Gale was just simping over Madge (he's in love with her and in slight denial). He's just like "idk if Madge and I are really good for each other cause we're so different. But I guess so are you and Katniss and you two could do it" and Peeta sits straight the fuck up because what? Madge, the Madge he kinda grew up with, is in a relationship with Gale Hawthorne? What the fuck? What did he miss?

And Gale just keeps rambling about her like she's so beautiful and sweet and kind and he loves her so much - but not SO much, ya know? And Peeta's just sitting there like wtf wtf wtf

#the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #gale hawthorne #peeta mellark #gale x madge #madge undersee #gale and madge #gadge #madge lives and marries gale au #underthorne

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x-gabrielle-x · 20 days ago

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Tides Of Survival | 6

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

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

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

Time seemed to be blurring together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where is my dad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Pa,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A throat cleared.

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

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

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

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

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

The train had nearly everything you didn't.

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

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

Did every Capitol citizen live in such luxury?

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

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

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

Electra glanced over, smile as delicate as her outfit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When are the interviews?"

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

He turned to you, and you straightened subconsciously.

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

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

Key word, almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick readjusted, exhaling a long breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't argue.

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

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

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