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tabbedtabby · 10 hours

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good luck, babe! | chapter 2

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna add cady but now i am because it’s convenient for me so just pretend she’s in the last chapter lol. also they get high way faster than what’s accurate but i wrote this in like 4 sittings it felt longer to me pls spare me. if the picture collage thing is ugly i’m sorry i’m not a tumblr native 😭 but anyways big thanks to everyone who interacted with the first chapter mwah!!!!! (photo creds from left to right: @/mediorcesav on insta, @/marvelsgirl616, casual mv by chappell roan)

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When the bell rings after 7th period, you’re already halfway out the door.

You’re already sober enough from earlier so you’re desperate to get outside, even if Regina will be there. You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance. You like your after school alone time; you didn’t want the person who literally ruined your social life to be there. At least maybe she’ll leave right after you smoke. You realize she most likely won’t after you remember she drives. How could you forget that bedazzled pink Jeep?

You feel the dappled sunlight sink heat into your skin once you enter the woods behind the baseball field. It really was a nice day. You make your way to your usual spot and lift up the pile of sticks and leaves that hide your forest stash. The guy who sells to you charges a ridiculous amount for carts compared to just the plant so you try to use them sparingly. Even if this shit stinks up the whole forest.

You’re not sure if Regina will care or not if you start without her, so you pull out your phone to pass the time. Besides, you want to be sober anyway when she finally shows.

After about 20 minutes of standing there, you start to get impatient. You almost pull the bag out to start without her before you finally see a flash of blonde hair from behind the trees.

“Took you long enough.” you mutter, already opening the bag without paying Regina much attention. Your patience was windeled, and you don’t especially want to talk to her anyway.

“Sorry I have a social life. I guess you wouldn’t know,” she snaps back, her voice strained.

You feel the annoyance crawl down your back like a centipede, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from saying something back to her. She holds basically your life in her hands since you’d be both fucked and poor if she decided to snitch on you. Probably not a good idea to start a fight on the first day of your little deal, but she made it difficult.

You grab one of the cans from under the pile of leaves as you see Regina cross her arms a couple feet away from you. Her eyes watching your every move makes you a bit wary on instinct. You feel like a mouse being stalked by a snake. You grab a decently sized piece out of the bag and put it on the crushed can. You couldn’t be bothered to roll your own blunts, so this was the next best thing.

“How much have you smoked before?” you ask, just wanting a general idea on how much she should have so that you wouldn’t have to drag her to the parking lot. Apparently, she takes great offense.

“What are you, my mom? Just hurry up so I can get out of here,” she says begrudgingly, like being out here was the biggest possible drag on her life. She was really grating on your last nerve right now.

“Trying my best.” you respond dryly, giving her a snide smile as you fiddle with the lighter.

“Well, obviously it’s not good enough. What are you even doing, anyway? This is the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen—”

You blow the first hit out of your mouth harshly. “Can you please just shut the fuck up? I don’t want to be out here with you either!”

“That’s shocking. I’m surprised this isn’t your ultimate wet dream, being alone in the forest with me,” Regina sneers, nothing but disgust on her face. Like you were some kind of animal instead of human.

“What’s that going off of? The photo collection that you made up?” you snap, putting the can down for a minute. “Believe me, I want nothing to do with you either. But since we’re gonna be out here every day, you could at least make it a little easier.”

You can tell she wants to rip your throat out just by the way she looks at you. Pursed lips, downturned eyebrows, piercing blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner almost as sharp as the look she’s giving you right now. She’s way too tense for someone about to get high.

“Whatever.” she finally says, although the edge to her voice makes you want to scoff. Better not to sour her mood more than necessary, though.

Pleased with the newfound silence, you light the piece on top of the can once more and take another hit. It’s strong enough to make you cough, and you sit down against the foot of a tree. Regina raises an eyebrow at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of professional,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as taunting as before. It almost sounded like a joke. Maybe she was considering not making this hell for you after all.

“It’s not good if it doesn’t make you cough.” you respond with a shrug. She looks at you expectantly, but you pretend you don’t see. You don’t want to have to stand back up just to pass her the can.

Eventually, she sits next to you (albeit, begrudgingly) and you pass the can to her, lighting it again when she puts her lips up to it. She explodes into a coughing fit the minute the smoke hits her lungs.

You can’t help but snicker at the sight of Regina George coughing her lungs out with just one hit from the can. It was almost strange to see her not perfectly arranged the way she was at school. You were up close enough to see the strings that sew her together.

She glares at you from the corner of her eye, but it only makes you laugh harder. You’re acting stupid right now and you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop. It’s a nice sort of high. Not like when you smoke too much and everything starts to blur together, which happens more than you’d like to admit. But this is nice. You lean back until your back touches the grass.

Regina has a couple more hits until she’s smoked about everything that’ll come out of it, and you both just lay there on the forest floor. You’re surprised she isn’t whining about dirt getting on her outfit. Maybe she’s too stoned to care. She never did answer your question about her tolerance.

Your thoughts go elsewhere as you stare up at the sky. The tops of the trees cover most of it. The sun from behind the leaves make them look almost as if they are glowing. It’s so beautiful. You wish you could reach up and feel it between your own fingertips, the fabric of the sky.

“You don’t care about what I think about you.” You hear Regina say, her voice only a couple of feet away from you. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You don’t why it’s funny to you, but it is. You feel the laugh escape your lips before you can stop it.

“I guess not.” you respond, even though you’re not certain if she wanted a response. It sounded like she was just thinking out loud. You feel that.

“Everyone else does. They grovel to me like lap dogs.” she says amusingly, although her voice drags and you can tell she’s starting to get tired.

“You don’t like it?” you ask with surprise.

“It’s the way it should be,” she declares, as if you’re stupid for even asking. “But everyone else is a less hot version of me. It gets annoying talking to the same clones that hang onto my every word. Like, just be normal for once in your life,” Regina complains, an annoyed edge in her tone near the end. Somehow you could tell she was talking about Gretchen. That poor girl really did hang onto every little thing Regina said or did. It was almost worshipful. But in an unfortunate, sad kind of way.

Her problems didn’t seem all that hard compared to others, but you don’t say anything. It’s intesting to you to hear her talk about this stuff, to see what goes on in her head. You’d never really considered what her life was like. You wonder if there’s a reason she’s the way that she is. There must be. Everyone’s a product of their environment in some shape or form. Of course, it doesn’t excuse everything she’s done, but that thought makes you want to get inside her head somehow.

You shake your head at the silly train of thought. Regina George was just plain mean. Nothing more to it. You turn your head to look at her as you realize you never responded.

Her eyes are closed, hair splayed out on the forest ground. She looks stoned as fuck, her chest rising and falling dangerously slow. You snort and roll your eyes. How low was her tolerance? You already felt mostly normal again.

Somehow she still manages to look perfect, even if you could mistake her as a corpse. You lay your head back down. Your parents wouldn’t mind if you were home a little late, right?

After that, you and Regina would meet to smoke behind the school almost every day, except when Regina had plans with her friends and you would just go alone. You still wish she wasn’t there, but sometimes she’s okay to talk to when she isn’t being a priss. She complains about her friends and boys and how sometimes in the morning her eyelash curler refuses to work. It’s entertaining to hear about how shallow her problems are. You still want to punch her most of the time, though.

This time around, however, she’s complaining about math. Something about her teacher failing her on purpose or something to make her have sex with him to get her grade up. You seriously doubt that’s true, but you listen anyway.

“Like, he’s totally obsessed with me. I know how to do the work, but he always marks it as wrong anyway. That Cady girl helps me with it, and she’s some kind of math freak.” Regina exclaims, taking a huge hit from the smoking can. She immediately sputters and you take the can back from her with a slight roll of your eyes. That’s probably enough for her.

“Is she, though?” you ask, taking a hit from the can yourself. “She’s in my Calc class and lately she’s been doing really shitty. I guess you guys are rubbing off on her,” you say with amusement.

Regina takes a deep breath, an agitated sigh coming out of her. “What’s the point of her tutoring me, then? They’re gonna take me off the soccer team if I don’t start passing like all of my classes. It’s like she wants me to fail.” she seethes, and she sounds genuinely upset. She could afford to pay attention in class instead of doing her makeup if better grades is what she wants, but alas.

You kind of want to offer to help her, but it’s her own fault so you bite your tongue. You put the can down with a sharp sigh. You’d rather not smoke too much around her in fear that you’ll start acting stupid and she’ll post it all over the internet. Just the slightly more giggly high is fine for now.

Regina stares bullets through you as your stash back under the pile of leaves. You pick up your backpack and get ready to leave. You feel fine enough to walk home.

“You’re not gonna offer to help me?” she asks indignantly, as if you owed it to her. You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning in annoyance. Could she be any more of a spoiled brat?

“Why would I do that?” you respond, feeling that your distaste seeps through your voice as well as your expression. You’re tired, both from school and from hanging out with Regina for too long. You just want to go home.

“Because I’m keeping your secret?” she says with that tone that reminds you of a viper. The one she uses to get whatever she wants from people by threatening to ruin them. Your chest bubbles with that same anger as that day in the cafeteria.

“Dude, I’m literally your plug. I’ve done enough for you to keep your mouth shut.” you snap, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. She was really starting to piss you off. That’s how it was with Regina; just when you think she’s all right, she starts doing this bullshit again.

“So what? I don’t need weed. I can break our deal whenever I want. Besides, you’ll only tutor me until the end of the month. It’s not that deep.” It’s only the beginning of October, so you’d be wasting more of your time with her for the next month, but of course she doesn’t include that. God, you’re so pissed off, but what can you do? Not be able to smoke anymore? Get suspended again? You hate that she can just hang this over your head until you comply. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stare at her, one of her hands on her hip and her eyebrows raised as if you’re a dog she just told to heel that won’t listen. Your hands bunch into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You really wish you had seen her with that bruise right about now.

“Fine.” you spit, pushing your way out of the clearing and back towards the school. Great. Now it would take even longer to shake Regina off. You shoulder branches of leaves out of your way, your feet kicking at the dirt. You wished she could just be fucking normal and that she never started any of this in the first place.

“I better see you tomorrow, loser!” You hear Regina scream from somewhere behind you. God, you were gonna kill her. Or yourself. Whichever came first.

#mean girls #mean girls x reader #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george 2024 #mean girls 2024 x reader

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tabbedtabby · 5 days

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good luck, babe! | chapter 1

regina george x reader

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

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Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.

Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.

But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.

Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.

When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.

You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?

You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.

Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.

“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.

“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.

Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.

And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.

Your suspension was extended. Obviously.

You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.

When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.

Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.

You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.

To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.

Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.

After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.

You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“Are you smoking weed?”

Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.

Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.

“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.

“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.

“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.

Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.

“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.

You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.

“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.

“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.

How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?

You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george 2024 #mean girls x reader #fem reader

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tabbedtabby · 2 months

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my problem is i am a girl who likes the idea of doing so many things but in reality only has the energy to daydream about doing those things rather than actually doing them

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tabbedtabby · 2 months

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calamitous love and insurmountable grief

johanna mason x reader

summary: On a hard grieving day for you, you recall an old holiday celebrated centuries before Panem.

a/n: valentine’s day oneshot!!! happy valentine’s day! inspired by a round of frantic fanfic me and my friends did (ty ruby) and the title is a lyric from the lakes by taylor swift bc i barely slept and don’t want to think of anything better. implied fem reader

cw: cringe 😓

words: 1.9k

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Your head lies limply on Johanna’s lap, your face expressionless as you stare deeply into nothing in particular. It was just one of those days for you. One day you’d wake up and be completely fine, skipping down the tile to the shops that make up the streets of District 7. The next, the memories would come surging back twice as strong and ferociously crippling as the last. The images of the dead stained under your eyelids; family, friends, even the soldiers you’d hardly taken the time to know during your fight against the Capitol. Some lost to your own hands, but most to Snow. It seemed impossible to think that he couldn’t reach you here, trying your hardest to forget about the Hunger Games and the war and the people you’ve lost. You’ve been trying to enjoy the little things again in this past month, taking a train out to District 7 with your girlfriend after Snow was assassinated, if you could call it that, really. Swarmed by the mob after Katniss’ arrow found Coin’s heart instead.

It happens to Johanna, too, so she gets it. She simply rests one hand in between the strands of your hair, her fingers brushing through the pieces as she fights with her own memories. She never knows quite what to say with these things, how to help. Often she opts for silence. She hasn’t cared for someone like this in so long. But Johanna has come to learn that her touch helps you more than words ever could. The feeling of her hands stroking your hair calms you, sedates that awful feeling that always seems to rise up into your throat like bile. It hasn’t taken long for her to learn how to calm your fears with just one simple touch, even if it’s something that goes unspoken between the two of you. Like a covert oath held together by the most lenient of hands, gentle fingers that have a tendency to care. Johanna’s touch is the type that draws all of the emotion out of you, like a magnet to its opposite end. Her hands absorb your fear and lead your mind to simpler things. A lantern in the dark, the only star in a polluted sky. Your mind wanders as you try to remember what you wanted to say to her.

“Did you know that before Panem, there was this holiday? About love. And you’d buy stuff for them. Like, your lover. It was called Valentine’s Day. Reading about it always made me wish I was alive back then.” you say, your brain reeling back to all those history books you’ve been reading to pass the time. You can almost feel Johanna’s eyebrow raise above you.

“Who wouldn’t? Worrying about stupid shit like that instead of getting reaped for a death match,” Johanna sneers, although the ferocity in her words isn’t directed at you. It never is. She’s always seemed to have a soft spot for you in that way.

“Yeah… it would have been today, you know. February 14th.” you say hesitantly, and your mind wanders back to those pages. The stores with the synthetic white lights overhead that illuminate the rows of heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolate delicacies. You’ve only ever had chocolate in the Captiol because of just how expensive it is. You’ve never been able to wrap your head around the idea of it being sold for so cheap, so common that it was purchased by millions to offer to their lovers. How simple their world seems to you. So different from the Panem you know. The Panem that condones violence, prejudice, the slaughter of children. But that Panem is one of the past now, too. Maybe humankind could return to such a silly holiday that revolves around love and stupid things like chocolate and flowers. Maybe Panem could finally heal after all the damage that was dealt.

Suddenly, you shoot up from Johanna’s lap, an idea forming in your head. Johanna just stares at you expectantly as you attempt to sort your thoughts into comprehendable words. Usually, it’s to no avail, but you need these words to reach Johanna’s ears right now or you’re going to explode.

“We should celebrate! We can both go out into town and get a gift for each other. It doesn’t have to be traditional, or anything too fancy. But I want to get you something. We can just pretend we really did live back then, before Panem. Before any of this.” you say, pushing the words out excitedly at the thought of celebrating anything at all, really. The aftermath of the war has been heavy and overbearing. There hasn’t been much room for fun or excitement or any of the childish feelings receiving a gift entails. This prospect is what has your eyes looking expectantly up at Johanna, on the edge of your seat for a response from her.

“Sounds stupid, but fine. Only because you look like you’re about to throw up.” Johanna decides, rolling her eyes, but you can see the small smile on her lips when she stands up. The excitement fizzes in your stomach as soon as the words leave her mouth. Something to look forward to! Not only that, but you get to give a gift to Johanna in return. This was the best thing that’s happened to you probably since you saw the life leave Snow’s eyes. Your life was filled too much with remorse and grief for your liking; even this small celebration was sure to bring some light back to your world.

Johanna is someone special. The only person left on this earth you’re sure you love. She’s not just anyone to bestow a gift upon, she’s Johanna Mason, for fuck’s sake, so you have to make sure you buy something meaningful. Something that she’s sure to cherish until her dying days. You sling some coins in your pocket and head out the door, heading in the opposite direction as Johanna into town so that you don’t run into each other while buying the gifts. Although, you’re both pretty famous around here so you doubt the shopkeepers will actually charge you for anything. The entirety of the country knew you as survivors of the Hunger Games, so most typically go pretty easy on you and Johanna. Even if their pity makes Johanna want to tear their limbs off one by one.

Your excitement shows by the way your feet bound you out onto the streets, taking quick glances at all of the shops open in the middle of the week. But as you bounce down the tile, you suddenly slow and realize you have no idea what a meaningful gift for Johanna would actually be. Being so soon after the war, chocolate was out of the question. Flowers were too simple; hell, if Johanna wanted flowers, she could have picked some in your yard herself. You think of getting something to aid her hobbies, but she doesn’t have many hobbies really except for cutting wood with an axe, and she’s already got plenty of those.

You begin to feel a bit defeated now as you wander around town, your bag of coins still clutched unused in the palm of your hand. You haven’t known Johanna for too long, but you thought you at least knew her better than this. You almost turn around until your eyes catch on the blacksmith shop.

On the front of the stand hangs an axe that must be completely forged out of metal, the sleek black and silver parts illuminated by the sunlight. It’d be impossible for it not to catch your eye walking down the path, the way that it shines in the very front of the stall. It must be a premium, because you’ve never seen an axe with a steel handle like that before. It’s heavy, sure, but Johanna’s managed to rebuild a lot of the muscle she lost when captured by spending so much time hacking away at firewood. Now that you think about it, the axes she uses must be older than she is because when she comes back home, you always have to fish splinters out of her fingers with your tweezers. As soon as that shiny, new titanium reaches your eyes, your coins are practically already in the blacksmith’s pockets.

No matter how much of your trauma was broadcasted on national television, a weapon like that is going to cost you a fortune. But the blacksmith recognizes you and offers to put something on the handle for free. You watch intently as he carves you and Johanna’s initials onto the handle with a small, neat heart on the end. Just the sight of it makes your lips raise in a smile with pride.

On your way back to Victor’s Village, you pick up a small box for the axe and buy some red ribbon to wrap around it, just for added effect. When you arrive home, Johanna’s already waiting outside for you, a larger, flatter box slung under her arm. She looks a bit bored, but her green eyes catch on you as you approach.

“Sorry. Took me forever.” you mutter through your grin as you walk up to her, already placing your box in her hands. Johanna smiles similarly, her lips a small smirk as the sunlight catches in her eyes. You can see the small flecks of brown in her eyes, a brighter green in the light than typical. Her hair has grown back curlier than before, the wavy strands ending just below her ears. You miss the red streaks in her hair. You wonder if she will dye them again once hair dye begins to be produced and sold again.

When Johanna takes the box from your hands, it’s almost like she can recognize the weight of an axe instantly. Growing up in District 7 will do that. “Nothing light, huh?” she grins, her eyebrows raising a bit knowingly as she tostles the box around a bit, hearing the metal slosh against the cardboard of the box. You can’t help but think she looks beautiful like that, with the sun dappled over her skin. You watch her almost distractedly until she hands you the box she had kept under her arm.

“Here, before I open mine.” Johanna says, her smirk widening just a bit as she looks at you intently. You smile back up at her as you take the box from her hands. It’s quite flat and almost weightless. You nearly drop it from expecting something heavier. You look up at her in question, and she just tells you to open it again. You roll your eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave your face as you gently take the top off of the box.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you slowly take your hand to touch the fabric in the box. It’s a piece of clothing. You gently unfold it, letting the box fall to the floor. It’s a dress, originally white, but cream around the edges with age. But it’s clear it’s well cared for, not a single stitch missing or a piece of lace misplaced. It’s beautiful. You nearly gape your mouth in shock as you run your fingers along the white satin, the pattern forming small flowers, and it feels silky smooth beneath your touch. Your eyes raise back to Johanna, the emotion clear in your gaze as she looks back at you with pride in her small smirk.

“I looked into one of your history books. White for weddings, right?”

#hunger games #hunger games imagine #the hunger games #johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #valentines day #happy valentine's day

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tabbedtabby · 2 months

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somethin’ stupid

johanna mason x reader

summary: A couple of months after the ending of the war, you make grounds in your relationship with Johanna, but 3 simple words may have ruined it all for you.

a/n: inspired by “somethin’ stupid” by frank sinatra. i wrote most of this a month ago and then forgot ab it so if the ending seems like completely different from the rest or i repeat stuff mb 😭 gonna try to post more i just broke up with my gf that’s why it’s been a sec but i’m locking in now trust

cw: some angst but it’s pretty tame

words: 3.5k

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You feel Johanna’s fingers begin to find their way to the hair at the base of your neck as your lips effortlessly glaze across one another’s. The gentle tug at the sensitive hairs at your nape sends what feels like electricity down into the pit of your stomach. Like driving over a hill, it makes your insides twist and turn with that high, out of wordly feeling. The kind of kiss that consumes you and makes your body ache for more. The feeling she sends running through you is tangible, the contact of her hot and glossy wet lips consuming your own makes you feel feverish and like you’re on some sort of high. Like you’re not laying in her bed, but in another world entirely. So far up into the sky that it would be impossible to pull you back down from this.

Your heart almost can’t handle it. It pounds so violently in your chest that you hear it in your ears. Not new to this longing, but to her lips. It feels like the careful worship of something sacred, taking the utmost care as to not shatter the glass altar. Johanna is your altar. So easy to get it wrong with her. It takes major precautions to not let those walls come back up. That block you out and away from her heart. Away from the feelings and the ghosts that she carries with her, pushed out with wolfish scowls and screams and that anger you have grown to know so well from her. But after 7 long months of trying, she’s finally let you in. Not all the way just yet, but she’ll let you help her through a nightmare some nights. She never wakes you up herself, but you’re working on it.

You pull your lips away from Johanna’s, enamored by the taste of her still lingering on you like strong perfume. It feels like there’s a cloud cushioned around your head, not letting you think rationally. A million thoughts flood your brain at once. How happy you are that your relationship, although not official, is finally progressing, how she’s been more comfortable with you. She finally trusts you with those deep wounds that she tried to bury so long ago. And now she’s trusted you with her lips.

“Wow, brainless, you really are terrible. But you look like you’ve never kissed anyone before anyway,” Johanna says, her voice playful and light. Those dark green eyes glitter with the same teasing look, and you’re afraid your heart may stop right then. You’ve never heard her voice so gentle. Was this tone really reserved for you? Was this really your Johanna laying in front of you, with her lips curled up into a playful smirk and strands of her hair falling over her face? It didn’t seem possible. This couldn’t be the same woman you saw rescued from the Capitol only a year ago. Spiteful and filled with so much hatred towards the ones who took her life from her and tortured her into deep hydrophobia. You remember those malicious, dangerous eyes at the voting for the symbolic Hunger Games when the war first ended. It seems impossible that those are the same eyes that stare at you now, pupils dilated with excitement, the warm light of the lamp behind you making her face glow a dim golden. Your throat is completely dry, only vaguely remembering her saying something to you. Someone would have to whop you under the head to get words out of your mouth right now. You stare frozen under her gaze like a deer in front of headlights.

Your lack of response doesn’t bother her; in fact, it only seems to spur her on. Her smirk grows larger and a humored laugh rumbles in her throat. You’re not sure why, because you’re sure you look pretty stupid staring up at her like a dog begging for a bite of food. She’s so beautiful. You can’t stop staring at her with that ever so dim light reflecting off her face and into her eyes. Her hair’s grown out enough now to form dark, wavy strands that end just under her ears.

“I love you,” you blurt out, not really thinking about anything except what’s in front of you. But it’s not like you were lying. It’s the only thing you can feel right now, that you have been feeling, and something about this moment makes it pulse so strongly in your chest that there was nothing you could do to keep it from coming out.

But whatever woman was just in front of you with the frivolous smirk and the sparkling eyes is gone. Her expression is flat, but her eyes are glossed over with true horror. Even that doesn’t last long as you watch her walls come right back up in real time. Johanna’s face hardens, and her eyebrows knit together to form that angry glower you know all too well. She’s already pushing herself off of the bed before you even have the time to form another thought.

“Well, I don’t,” she scowls, practically stomping towards the door. You have no idea what just happened or what to do, but you’re already scampering after her.

“Johanna, wait,” you plead as your hand shoots up to grab her wrist, “What happened? I’m sorry if I upset you, I wasn’t thinking, I—”

“Don’t touch me!” she spits, and you can almost see the cloud of anger that surrounds her when she rips her arm away from you as if your touch had burned her. The same eyes that were staring at you like you were the only thing in the world less than a minute ago glare at you with what you can only guess is hatred. You just stand there, completely stunned, as Johanna storms out with the door slamming shut behind her.

This is just how she reacts when she’s hurt, you know that. But what did you do? Tell her you loved her? Isn’t that what she wanted? She’d been living in this house with nothing but her family’s bones for 4 years before she met you!

You don’t follow her. The tears well up in your eyes as you slump back into the bed you share with Johanna. Or probably that you used to share. It’s been a long time since she’d lashed out at you that intensely. Probably not even since she’d just gotten rescued from the Capitol, and at least then it was understandable. She had just been tortured ruthlessly for over a month, you could see why she was so angry even to you. But you never gave up on her. Not once. Not once did you leave her side, even when she would scream and throw and break. Eventually, you wore her down enough to get her to trust you with some things. And then more and more as you began to wear her down. She was getting better, you both could tell the difference by a longshot. This outburst she’s just had has set her back months.

You so want to be angry with her, but all you are is dejected. You don’t even know what you did wrong. You’re always so careful with her. Careful not to let the wrong words slip out. You can’t sound like you pity her. You can’t mention Snow. You can’t talk or ask about her family. You can’t mention the hospital in District 13. You can’t ask about her time in the Capitol, either. You can’t bring up how she voted for the symbolic Hunger Games with Capitol children. You can’t talk about Katniss, because she broke her promise to Johanna that she would kill Snow. All of these things will set her off like a ticking time bomb. You know all of the rules to handling Johanna Mason. You follow them like clockwork around this house to ensure she heals properly from her wounds that run so deep. You’ve done everything you possibly could to prevent those walls that shut you out and as far away from her as possible.

Should loving her be added to the list? That was what had made her so angry. But you can’t shake that image of her eyes, wide and terrified, before she had taken on the look of rage. Before she covered up whatever had frightened her with her barriers of writhing anger. You slump down further into the bed, trying to wrack your brain of anything you could have done to scare her in that moment.

Was an “I love you” too much for someone you had kissed for the first time right then? Probably. But you and Johanna were more than that. You always thought that to be a mutual understanding. You hold her without question before bed each night. Her hands find yours when you take your sunset walks in the forest behind Victor’s Village. You have tried as hard as you possibly could to get it into her thick skull that you were never going to give up on trying to help her. And you see the way she looks at you, even if she doesn’t think that you do. The way her eyes burn with that same hunger that had ached in your own chest when you said those three stupid words.

That really was stupid of you, wasn’t it? Your lips quiver a bit as the tears run freely down your cheeks now. You can’t believe you fucked this up. After 7 months of progress. Of helping Johanna heal. Just for your big mouth to blurt out something stupid in the heat of the moment and mess up whatever sort of halfway relationship you had with her. What makes it worse is that you meant it. You really have fallen in love with Johanna. And that just makes it sting all that much more.

You sigh heavily, wiping the cold, wet stains off of your cheeks with one hand as you slowly let yourself sink down into the bed. It’s not warm enough without her. Without her face tucked into your neck, her body draped over yours. You’d become so accustomed to it since she’d started letting you get closer. Well, you guess those days are over. You doubt you’ll get any sleep, but you need to try anyway. Being sad and exhausted is a killer combo you don’t care to experience tomorrow. That alone is the only reason you squeeze your eyes shut, burrowing your face solemnly into the pillow that you pretend is Johanna’s warm body next to yours.

Johanna’s hands grip so tightly around the axe that she is almost certain there are already a handful of splinters embedded in her palms. But she doesn’t care; the pain is nothing compared to the kind she carries deep inside of her. She grits her teeth as her axe dents another slit in the wood in front of her. Johanna’s had this little spot for a long time. Since she’d won the Hunger Games at 17. The only place she could truly be with her thoughts, to take her anger out on something. Just Johanna, an axe, and a myriad of trees stretching in every direction. Here, she was alone. The only place she truly ever felt safe after she became a victor. Even after Snow’s death, he still haunted her like a spirit, following her even so far into her dreams.

But here she was always safe from him. From the Hunger Games. From her house in Victor’s Village, where the ghosts of her family still roamed even after all these years. From you and your wide eyes and that stupid grin that was constantly on your face. Just the thought of you makes Johanna’s eyes sting, and a scream pierces her throat as she sends the axe flying over her head. She watches as it swings down into the mutilated jumble of wood and bark, sending smaller cuts of the tree flying just from the impact of her blow.

This was just what was for the better, Johanna decides. It was never going to work, you and her. You were too kind. Too patient with her. So insistent that it was almost annoying the way you wouldn’t give up. She could scream and yell until her throat was raw, and you still wouldn’t leave her side. How could Johanna deserve something like that? A person so willing to take the time to wear her down. To burrow deep below her layers of burning anger and hatred, to get to the person she was underneath all of her bluster. It was new to her. No one had ever tried before you.

So it scared her. To have someone care about her like that again after it had been so long. Johanna became afraid of your gentleness with her, how your eyes craved to care. But what frightened her more than anything was the fact that she felt it, too. When she caught herself staring for too long when the sun reflected off your skin just right. How wrong it felt to slip into bed alone those nights you were in District 4 visiting Annie and her son. How every time she wakes up screaming and thrashing from those macabre images stained in the back of her mind, the only thing in the world she wants is your warmth. She hates it. She hates that stupid feeling in her chest and the way she can’t hate you, no matter how hard she tries.

Johanna knew how you felt about her. And she knew how she felt, too. But it being spoken into words had made it all too real. Because loving Johanna came with too many risks. It was dangerous. Or, at least, that’s what Johanna has always thought. But with Snow dead, could it really be as much of a risk? There was no one to take you from her as punishment for her actions; although, her actions pose a risk of their own. How long would it be until Johanna lost her temper with you? Clearly not long at all, considering the only reason she isn’t warm in bed with you is because she screamed at you. But that was just her way of forcing you out. To keep you from realizing how afraid she was of letting herself love you.

She wasn’t a good person. That was obvious enough. Johanna had treated you like garbage more times than she could count. Yet you still came back. Insisted on helping. Sat there silently as she screamed and screamed and screamed. Quite frankly, she didn’t deserve someone like you. That’s why she blocked you out the moment those words left your lips. It wasn’t fair to you to love someone like Johanna. You deserved better.

Johanna destroys the lot of trees surrounding her, screaming until her throat couldn’t produce any more sound, her yells of triumph dwindling into pathetic whispers. Her hands clutch that axe like it’s her lifeline, her ticket out of this hellhole she’s dug for herself. The old wood presses into her skin, leaving it calloused and bloody when she finally throws it into the grass. Sunlight had slowly begun to trickle into the clearing, leaving a golden glow on the destroyed hunks of bark and wood. Even the most rotten things are turned beautiful in the light of the rising sun.

Johanna knows she needs to go home. With all of her released anger, her bloody hands, and her throbbing head, Johanna just accepts this. Her fingers are cold and numb. She doesn’t have a single idea of what she’s going to do when she gets back to that big, nearly empty house if it weren’t for you still waiting there. So much runs through her head but it feels like nothing at all. There should be apprehension, maybe even fear. But her sleepless night has rendered her exhausted.

When Johanna steps through the back door, the sun has already risen enough so that the orange light shines through the blinds of the windows in the living room. The birds chatter incessantly outside. It would normally peeve her, but now, she sees it as a new beginning. The birds sing to signify a new day, a fresh start to the constant fight for survival.

She sees your figure in the kitchen and she knows she can’t hide forever. Your back’s to her, your body pressed against the counter as you stare up into the window above the sink. The dawn light casts through the glass in intricate, majestic beams that illuminate the kitchen tile with a golden glow. Johanna watches the way the sunlight bounces off of your hair, giving you a ring of light around your head from where she stands behind you. Johanna slowly sucks in a breath and steps into the kitchen beside you.

You don’t look at her when she approaches beside you, your brows furrowed only slightly but all else expressionless. Johanna watches you like a wet dog who came in from the rain. Almost begging you to say something. Ask where she’s been all night. Hell, she’d even take it if you told her to go fuck herself and leave. Anything but this silence. You always knew just what to say, always bringing light into an awkward or dark conversation. Johanna hated to admit it, but she was thankful for those stupid comments and that lighthearted laugh that always accompanied your lofty grin. The one that always made Johanna smile and roll her eyes like some lovesick imbecile. She hates whatever this is now. This uncomfortable silence that’s so unusual from you, the distracted look in your eyes as if trying to sort a puzzle in your head. Johanna’s never wanted to take a look at your thoughts as much as she does now. She purses her lips and comes to the conclusion she may have to be the one to start the conversation this time, although she hasn’t a clue on what to say. Sorry for ditching you? Aren’t you gonna ask why my hands are bloody? I love you, too? God, this was pissing her off. Pissing her off that she can’t say anything and that you have this effect on her. A sigh leaves her mouth as she leans against the counter, dropping her burning gaze from you finally almost in defeat.

Minutes must pass before a single word is spoken. Johanna stands there next to you, rotating between staring holes through you and glancing back down at the counter. She can’t talk, she doesn’t know what to say. She fucked this up and has no way of fixing it, apparently, because she doesn’t even have the grace to get a single word out. After everything you’ve done for her. The shame burns hot in her throat as she stares angrily down at the counter now, until she hears just the voice she’s been listening for.

“I’ll wait for you.” When Johanna hears those words leave your mouth, it’s like a crushing weight is removed from her chest. If she didn’t love you now, you would wait until the ends of the earth until she did. You were always so persistent, so hard to shake. Johanna’s never been grateful for it until now, when you finally lift those eyes from the window to her own. With the morning sun making your skin glow, every color in the rims of your eyes exposed and even more beguiling than Johanna could have ever imagined. She realizes everything at once. She does love you, and that’s what scared her. She loves the crease by your eyes that accompany a smile, how you always try to lift her up even when she’s adamant on wallowing in her own anger. You were the second half that made her whole. A perfect balance to contain her fires, but not completely put them out.

It will take Johanna a long time to say these things. It will take her even longer to process the complexity of her feelings, to delve deep into every crevice of her heart she’s swore she locked up a millennium ago. But she knows, deep down, that you’ve always had the keys to understanding her. To find even those dark corners and shine your light into the worst parts of her without judgment. She is broken, but you are, too. You have a lifetime ahead of you to patch these wounds together, and eventually, rid yourselves of the scars. Peace was sorely won, but that’s what you were promised. A life of stargazing and laughter in the kitchen while baking cookies. Finally teaching yourselves how to enjoy a world that has brought you nothing but anguish and loss. This house would become more than a swamp of grisly memories, but a place of simpler things. The pleasure of finally healing.

#the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games imagine #johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #x reader #reader insert #fluff #angst

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tabbedtabby · 2 months

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wrote a valentines oneshot clawing at the bars of my enclosure having to wait 2 more days to post it

#hunger games #johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #valentine’s day #let me out #let me out of my cage

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tabbedtabby · 3 months

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girlie that's not a random headache u are dehydrated malnourished over caffeinated over stressed and sleep deprived

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tabbedtabby · 3 months

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i bet on losing dogs

johanna mason x fem reader

summary: After Johanna fails her Block exam to participate in the invasion of the Capitol, you go say your farewells to her, bearing a gift.

a/n: i haven’t posted on tumblr since like 2021 so sorry if this looks ugly LMAO idk how to be aesthetic on here. anyway if you have any thoughts lmk!

cw: angst, not proofread

words: 1.9k

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Your hands fumble with the bulletproof vest covering you as you exit the Block. You have passed your personal assessment, it seems. The one that decides whether you’re fit enough to storm the Capitol with the rest of the victors; well, considering they pass it, too. The Block throws you into a simulated version of what a battle in the Capitol would be like, and personally preys on the weakness of each person who enters. So, in your case, it was fully checking an area before entering it. You’re not the most careful person in the world, you’ll admit.

You take the vest off, and see only a handful more soldiers waiting for their assessment, including Katniss. You had trained with her. She fought hard for this, and you know how badly she wants to go to the Capitol herself. You know how she feels. You, too, are a victim of Snow’s treachery.

You glance around, searching for Johanna. She’s pretty easy to spot, with the shaved head and everything. So when you don’t see her, you frown. She’d gone in only a couple more people before you did, but you don’t remember seeing her leave the Block, either. There is one face you recognize, though. Haymitch. You assume he’s waiting for Katniss, but when he walks up to you, you realize you’re mistaken.

“Johanna’s back in the hospital.”

“What?”

You ask the question, but you’re not really waiting for an explanation. You’re already shoving past everyone to get to the elevator. Of course. Johanna’s greatest weakness. They flooded the streets during her assessment.

When the elevator door opens into the hospital sector, you already know where to look. Johanna’s sitting up in a hospital bed, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling rapidly. They must have stripped her of her soldier uniform, because she’s back in the same hospital gown she was given when rescued from the Capitol. What little hair she’s managed to grow from then until now is damp and spiky, and your suspicions are confirmed.

When Johanna sees you, your heart almost shatters. You’ve never seen her so empty of life. Not even when she’d first came back from the Capitol. She’s completely stripped of her anger, her abrasiveness, her bold personality. All that’s left is fear.

You don’t say anything to her. You just sit down at the foot of her bed. She wouldn’t want your pity, you know this. Instead, your hands close around something in the pocket of your pants. Something you’ve been meaning to give to Johanna, and there couldn’t be a better moment than now, now that you’ll be storming the Capitol without her.

“Here.” you say, your hand extending towards her. She stares blankly at you for a moment, almost certainly pumped full of morphling.

Johanna’s hands unfurl the handkerchief to reveal a set of rusted golden earrings shaped like little suns. Your mother’s. The only fine thing you’d ever owned before becoming a victor that you could never bring yourself to sell. The things that comforted you while being hunted in the arena, and again when you were reaped a second time for the Quarter Quell. Your lifeline at one point.

Her eyes glisten over with tears, but she quickly squeezes them shut. “I can’t take these, (Y/N).” she croaks out.

“Yes, you can, stupid. I’m giving them to you,” you tell her gently, a small smile on your lips as you stare into Johanna’s eyes. Even on the morphling, her eyes are filled with emotion.

“She died a long time before the rest of my family. I don’t need them anymore.” you don’t mention how there’s a good chance you might die in the Capitol, and you want those earrings to be passed on to someone else you care about. And the fact that Johanna has nothing to her name except District 13’s depressing dark green jumpsuit makes you feel sad.

“He has to die.” Johanna responds after a couple of minutes, her voice still hoarse. But she doesn’t say it with her normal ferocity. The contact with her method of torture has truly broken her.

“I know. Katniss is going to kill him, Johanna.” you say, placing one of your hands over hers. She stares up at you.

“And then… we’ll be free. Forever. We’ll go to District Seven and do whatever we’d like for the rest of our stupid lives. Get some real food. These bland-ass meals here are killing me,” you joke, and that makes the corner of Johanna’s mouth twitch up. But you can sense her considering your offer, too. Of course, she was always going to go home to District 7, but she can’t deny the idea of you coming with her excites her. Someone to fill that lonely old house that has gone so long without another resident besides herself.

Johanna’s hand clutches around the fabric that holds your parting gift. You squeeze her other hand, cold and damp. You don’t mind warming her up.

But there’s something in the air that neither of you address. That looming reality that you may not come back. Neither you nor Johanna have spoken about how you felt about each other, but you’re all each other has at this point. You share a room here in District 13 and hold each other through nightmares when they inevitably come each night. But that’s about the extent of how far your relationship has gone.

Before you think about it, you lean down and press your lips onto hers. Admittedly, you’ve wanted to for months now. But nothing could compare to how it felt in reality. Although brief, the feeling of her soft and faintly warm lips sends goosebucks running up your neck. Johanna’s lips are a wet and warm abyss that you never want to escape. You are forced to pull away anyway.

“Damn, brainless,” Johanna whispers, the hint of a smirk on her lips. You can’t stop the grin that spreads onto your face. She sounds more like her old self. Sarcastic. Witty. When you look into those deep green eyes, you know she will be able to put herself back together again. Just as she has done before, again and again. She has rebuilt herself into the woman you’re afraid you’ve fallen in love with as you stare into those eyes.

Almost on queue, the hospital quarter’s door opens, revealing a sympathetic looking Katniss and Finnick. Katniss holds a small bundle of something in her hands, and you realize they’ve come to say their own farewells to Johanna. The four of you have become somewhat of friends after going through training together.

Katniss’ gift ends up being a wad of pine needles to remind Johanna of home, which receives an emotional response from Johanna. She misses District 7 badly. You promise yourself the minute that Snow is dead, you will take her home. Home to the thick trunks of the trees and the sound of pine needles crunching under sturdy boots.

Eventually, you realize you need to get going. Katniss and Finnick have finished their goodbyes, and are already heading towards the door. You give Johanna one last look as you follow them out.

“I’ll see you soon.” you say, flashing her a promising smile before the door closes behind you.

Finnick was right. The last thing you thought of was her lips.

——

Bright green leaves rustle lightly, their branches flickering across the sky. The wind flows through them effortlessly, causing the deep emerald forest to appear alive in its movements. Birdsong ricochets on the sturdy trunks of the trees, filling the canopy with the hopeful sound of music.

One of the birds flitters down to the rock in front of where Johanna sits, its tiny feet hopping on the smooth gray. Its black, beady eyes stare up at her in question before launching back up into the leaves.

This is where she spends most of her days. Sitting at the base of a tree, head leaned back. Staring up into where the leaves catch the sunlight. Watching as the sun moves across the sky before it sets beyond the horizon. Only then does she take the trek back home.

She still lives in the Victor’s Village in District 7. After all, where else was she supposed to go? She yearned for her home. Even more so after your promise to go back with her once the war ended. How it was foolish of her to believe she’d ever share those walls with another body again. Snow took her family. She never truly came to terms with it, but it had been long enough that she could stand to be in that house again without reliving it all. That conversation after she’d become a victor, and the consequences that came soon after. It stung like a rotting wound every time she entered her own home. It was hard to sleep knowing she lived in a murder site.

Johanna tried, she really did. She tried not to let herself love again. Because as soon as she did, Snow’s offer would be on the table again. And this time, she would know what would happen if her answer was no. It would mean another bleeding body on the floor. Another soul to haunt those walls. More screams to ricochet inside her skull every time she closed her eyes. It would never be worth it. No matter how badly she wanted someone to care about her. Most days it would have helped more than anything to just know that there was someone out there who gave a shit about her.

But she couldn’t help it. Johanna couldn’t help that feeling she got around you. And, damn it, she tried. Lord knows she did. But you were so kind, and more than anything, unafraid. Unafraid of her anger and ferocity. You weren’t scared of her like everyone else; you were curious. You wanted to know Johanna, why she acted the way she did. Not immediately write her off like everyone else. No. You were different.

In the Quarter Quell, she had begun to get to know you. But it wasn’t until Johanna was rescued from the Capitol—she hates that word, rescued—that she began to be truly afraid of what she was feeling. The way her face would get hot every time you’d give her one of those wide, genuine grins that Johanna didn’t know was possible to be found on the face of a victor. She hated the feeling of skin against her own more than anything, but with you, she craved it. That’s when she knew she was in trouble; or rather that you were. Loving Johanna Mason is a death sentence.

And, unfortunately, you were guilty of that crime. Blown up into a million tiny pieces at the hands of the same bomb that killed Katniss’ little sister. She tries to reach out to Johanna. Or rather, she thinks Peeta encourages her to. But she can’t bring herself to answer. Not when Katniss gets the pleasure of living out the rest of her life with Peeta. Johanna doesn’t care if her sister is dead. She’s lost more and still has ended up alone.

So, that’s her fate. She doesn’t try again. To love. To care. Not about other people. Not about anything. But to sit alone under forest canopy, an axe still held firmly in her calloused hands. Some habits are hard to break.

So Johanna rots in that empty house that is too big for her, but too small for her grief, until the large doses of morphling will eventually get to her. She will die alone and unwanted. Her happy ending.

#johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games imagine

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