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cinnajun · 2 years

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PRELUDE: atlas cried | ljn

summary | they say your soulmate is your perfect other half—whatever you lack, they have, and whatever they lack, you have. when lee jeno, your academy’s golden boy, approaches you and says you’re his soulmate, you can’t begin to understand how he—rich, gorgeous, never had to work a day in his life—could be the perfect match for you—poor, exhausted, and barely hanging onto the scholarship covering what would be a 65 million won tuition.

genre | high school au (rich boarding school style), soulmate!au, prep!jeno x fem!reader, prep!jaemin & reader (platonic), angst, slow burn, enemies-ish to lovers, kind of academic rivals but in a way that the rivalry is created by other people, im ngl y/n and jeno just don’t like each other

warnings | mentions of abusive parenting, a bit of internalized misogyny (full warnings list tba w/ official posting)

wc | 0.7k

a/n: "atlas cried" is my first full-scale project, i think !! now that i've gotten the hang of things, i think i'm going to try and create something big like this at least four times a year (assuming this blog is long-lasting, hopefully), but consider this my first ever test run :-) i expect the finished product to be around 25k (if i manage to make it that far) but i felt as though a prelude was in order !! i hope you enjoy!

progress log

INSTEAD, HE LEANED OVER to the coffee table in front of you, pushing a small coffee cup towards you. You stared at it for a second, confused and a bit freaked out, but you picked it up nonetheless, thankful he’d thought to get you something warm. He continued to sit in silence, leaving you with a couple of moments to study him thoroughly.

Before today, you’d never really looked at him. Sure, you’d given him a couple of nervous glances, but there was something about Lee Jeno that made you feel inferior. He was the son of a major CEO, one of the biggest conglomerates in all of Korea (and maybe even Asia), somebody you would’ve never even dreamed of meeting three years ago. He was above the rules of the school, above the rules everywhere, dangling his parents’ name and a wad of cash above anyone who tried to tell him no.

His hair was bleached blonde, but it seemed so healthy that you could’ve mistaken it for his natural hair color if you hadn’t known any better. He’d shed all his snow-protectant layers, which were sprawled out along the remainder of the couch next to him. Despite the lack of need for it today, he was dressed in his usual uniform—a black blazer, white turtleneck, and black and green plaid pants—which was a blatant violation of the dress code due to the lack of a polo shirt, but you’d never see him get in trouble for it. He sat with an aura of regality that you could only try and imitate, with his leg lazily crossed over the other and his arm resting on the back of the couch. In his other hand was a cup of coffee like yours, but his was so hot that it was steaming from the lid’s opening.

“I didn’t know your last name until Mark told me,” he finally said, taking a sip of his burning hot coffee. You mimicked his movements, taking a sip from your own, trying to fight off any physical reaction to the bitterness of it.

“What do you mean?”

Jeno sighed, holding up his hand. You stared for a moment, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to make out the small letters on his palm. Then, all too quickly, the truth flooded your mind—the initials on your hand, LJN, and the initials on his, your very own set.

It shocked you so bad that you nearly dropped the cup of coffee. The reveal did nothing to soothe your nerves and, instead, amped up the panic a lot more. Your head spun at the thought, and, while you hated to say it, all you could think about was the negatives.

What would your parents say when they found out your soulmate was Lee Jeno, of all people? The son of a CEO-and-politician, the son of a man who drowned in money, a person who was born rich and would die rich? They’d never leave you alone once finding out, demanding check after check to ensure they never said a word about their relation to the Lees. They’d torment you for the rest of your life, and you’d forever be stuck under their reign of terror, forever their child, forever their moneybag.

On top of that, you’d never have an accomplishment that was fully tied to you again. People would see you as a connection, and they’d give you opportunities based upon that connection rather than based on your natural ability. You’d be respected because of who your soulmate was, not because of who you were, and you’d end up like the women you saw on TV—lifeless dolls with the title of “wife” and nothing else.

You thought meeting your soulmate was supposed to be this fateful encounter under the stars, the moment where you met the one person who would love you most. You expected to be mystified, sent to a world of love and comfort, sent to a world where your problems were nonexistent and the sun was shining and the birds sang tales of love and togetherness. You wanted to feel as though you were being embraced by constellations, struck by Cupid’s arrow as you stared at the person the universe decided was your fateful match.

Instead, you stared at Lee Jeno, and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

published 08-06-22

(p.s. if anyone wants a taglist for this, just send me an ask and i will add you!! updated taglist will be on the progress log)

#cinna.nct #nct dream x reader #nct dream au #nct dream imagines #nct dream oneshots #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno x y/n #nct dream angst #soulmate au #jeno imagines #jeno angst #jeno scenarios #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #cinna's preludes

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rosenlied · 5 months

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Christmas Mashiro + Cinnamoroll

#bang dream #bandori #mashiro kurata #sanrio #cinnamoroll #fun fact: I initially liked Cinna because he reminded me of Mashiro #If we ever get a Bandori x Sanrio collab we better get these two together

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

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—𓆩[in our next life || IV]𓆪—

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing || getting married || wedding night || lots and lots of smut || slight mentions of previous forced prostitution || Finnick loves you so much ong || wedding rituals to add some extra spice || garters || lingerie || kinda interrupted smut || multiple rounds || creampie || (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in the masterlist)

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t have been happier. Today, the day you were going to marry the love of your life, was going to be your last day of peace.

And by hell's name were you going to enjoy it.

It was a large, elaborate dress like you wanted it to be, form fitting at the top and showing off cleavage down to your torso, your back and sides exposed as well through thin satin material. Pearls adorned every inch of the outer layer, hanging on thin gold string and designed to make it look almost like you had stepped out of the ocean.

Cinna threads pearls into your hair, humming in concentration as he puts that last one in the perfect place before looking in the mirror. “You like?”

“I love Cinna. As always.”

He smiled before walking to the dresser, leaving you to admire yourself on the podium. You always dreamed of a giant wedding, and this was it. As different as it was, especially because you could die in the next week, you didn’t care. You were marrying the love of your life and tonight would be a night that made other wedding nights pale in comparison.

As much as you were going to fuck Finnick, and him fuck you, you were also going to make love, memorize every inch of each other going into the games. You both had never gone a day without at least some relief since you had gotten addicted to each other, and of course you would fuck tonight as much as you could to make up for it.

You loved Finnick and he loved you, but you knew your biggest weakness was the other’s body, how bad you have come to lust after one another. Yes, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but why wouldn’t you fuck like the world was going to end when it probably would soon?

“Y/N,” Cinna gets your attention, opening a large box to watch a gasp fall from your lip. The collar was gold, covered in diamonds and chains with cascading pearls falling down, the large diamond in the middle the star of the show. “The one thing Finnick ever asked me for was this. I know he doesn’t like me very much,” he comes behind you, slowly clasping it around your neck before smiling at you through the mirror. “But he asked for this especially.”

“It’s beautiful, Cinna. Thank-”

“Don’t thank me, sweetheart,” he grinned. “Your future husband designed it years ago. It just took me a while to get it done, and I based your entire wedding off of it.”

You looked toward the large window of the bridal room, staring at the flood of black swarmed into the gardens behind the estate, your eyes quickly finding the only other person wearing white - your future husband. He was looking around, waiting, but almost on cue, his eyes quickly found yours. He quickly closed his eyes, but grins at you before looking away. Peeta stood close to him, and Katniss was across, but the person that surprised you the most was Mags. She stood wearing gray, right in the place for the person who would officiate the wedding was supposed to stand.

“Cinna.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Walk me down the aisle.” You turned, his jaw slack as you ran over to him, four inch heels clicking. “Please.”

“Y/N, I-I…” he paused as you took his hands, squeezing. “I’d be honored.”

You throw your arms around him, giggling as the drums start to play. You pull away, hands still in his as you giggled. “Lead the way, Cinna.”

And he does, taking you down the grand staircase and out the doors to the elevated staircase that led down to the gardens. All cameras were on you, the second one that was with every news station on Finnick’s slack jawed face. Mags stood on an elevated platform, mainly because she was so short compared to everyone else, her hand raising to start the drums again. They go once, then they go twice, and just like that, the beat starts.

You slowly step down the stairs, Cinna leading you as Finnick wipes at his eyes, tears threatening to fall with every best of the drum. He looked beautiful, ethereal, dressed in the finest of white silks. It wasn’t a suit because that wasn’t Finnick, but something breathable, a blazer with no shirt underneath and long white pants. He had chains with pearls like the ones in your hair on his hip, a bracelet designed the same way, and a choker like yours around his neck.

His was thick but simple, studded with diamonds and the cascading pearls to accentuate your elaborate one, another large diamond stuffing the center. When you finally get to the white carpet, all eyes turn to you, or the ones that weren’t already.

Mags raised her other hand, the drums getting louder, faster as you walked down the aisle, Cinna raising your hands to stay level at your torso. You look over at him, smiling as he wipes at his eyes. “You both look perfect.”

“Are you just saying that so I think you’re not crying out of sentiment?”

He laughs as he looks over. “I’m crying out of happiness, sweetheart,” he says as he finally gets you to the platform. Mags’ hands fly out, the drums stopping immediately as he raises his hand to help you step onto the platform without stepping on himself. “Thank you, for honoring me with the chance to do that for you.”

“No one else I’d rather have do it.”

He steps onto the platform, pressing a kiss to your head before turning to Finnick. “I know you won’t do anything to hurt her, and I know you’ll do everything to protect her. All I ask is that you do the same for yourself.”

Finnick doesn’t respond, just nods as he wipes at his eyes. He watched Cinna step down, quickly catching his bicep to pull him back. “Thank you, Cinna. For everything.”

He smiled. “Nothing else I would rather do.”

Cinna doesn’t leave, though, standing on your side next to Katniss as Mags smiles at the two of you. Her hands outstretched slowly, the drums soft as they played the same beat as earlier. Finnick takes your hands, sniffling as he pulls them to his lips. “You look so, so beautiful.”

You don’t have the chance to compliment him back before Mags waved a stick in front of your faces, raising a brow as she looked down between you both. Quickly, you let go of him and take a small step back for the ceremony to begin.

You hear the giggling of children as they run over with a white fishing rope adorned with golden thread, the thick rope having to be held by about four as they run over. You recognized them from District 4, and you smiled as they finally made their way over to you.

The oldest looking one made you inhale shakily, reminding you of the young boy from District 3 from your games that was murdered right in front of you. His name was Code, and he has the same dark hair and tanned skin as the boy in front of you.

The young boy hands you one end, smiling. “Can you put this over your shoulder?” He whispers, patting your fingers. “I can’t reach.”

You giggled, nodding. You take it, but lean down to press a kiss to his hair. It was curly like Code’s, and in all honesty, they could’ve been twins. The young boy looks at you confused, but smiles as you giggle and take the end of the rope.

They make a square around you both, wrapping you together in the expensive rope and pushing you forward until you are flushed against Finnick.

They made him leave his left hand out like you did, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as yours does the same. The boys kept the rope around your upper torso because it didn’t fit around your dress and they didn’t want to ruin it. When they finish, they hand the last end to Finnick who grinned down at them making them giggle.

“You boys go get a treat, alright?”

They nodded, running off as Cinna stepped forward.

The drums got louder as he stepped up the platform, opening a long box to reveal the rings. You gasped as Finnick’s hand rubs your upper back, holding the rope with his pinkie and ring finger before grabbing the wedding ring made for you. The large pearl was wrapped with gold, studded with small diamonds around it as he took your hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

You laughed, tears brimming your eyes. “What did you boys do, drain a whole ocean for these pearls?”

Finnick kissed the back of your hand. “For you darling, I will.”

You inhale shakily as Cinna turns to you, letting go of his hand one last time before grabbing the golden band, just like your ring, a large pearl studded with diamonds around the band in a solid line. “I love you, Finnick Odair.”

Tears fell from his cheek as you kissed his hand, slipping it onto his finger. “I love you, Y/N L/N.”

The drums stop as Mags steps down, Cinna going back to his spot next to Katniss as she takes the rope from your hands, wrapping each around your left wrist. She takes a blade from around her neck, raising it for the drums to stop before cutting at each end of the rope, leaving it bound around your wrists.

Finnick smiled as the rope stayed wrapped around your bodies, the superstition of soulmates making sobs erupt in the crowd.

Your fingers intertwined together as Mags raised her hands, Katniss coming to you and Peeta going to Finnick. You smiled at her as they both took a small torch, raising it to each of your wrists before turning them on, melting the vinyl made rope together so that it stayed stuck on your wrists. They keep the flame on until the rope starts to curl, thinning itself out before the curling turns into a beautiful swirl of a bracelet around your wrist and Mags raises her hands again.

They both turn them off as you look over at Finnick’s rope bracelet, eyes watering when you see it formed a pattern almost exactly like yours. You inhaled shakily as he nudged your nose with his, stroking your cheek with the same wrist before Mags slowly pressed a kiss to each of your temples before stepping back.

She raised her hands one last time, the drums getting faster before they stopped, Finnick pulling you in for a firm kiss as soon as the silence settled in. The crowd cheers loudly as you pull him down lower, groaning against his lips as he pulls his hand out of the binds and pulls your lips almost into his mouth, groaning loudly as both of your hands thread into his hair.

You groaned loudly as his tongue slid into your mouth, almost whimpering as he pulled away before kissing your nose softly. With a giggle, you wipe his cheeks as he softly let his thumbs run under your eyes.

“I’m all yours tonight, my darling,” he whispers, smiling as you rub against the sides of his head. “And for the rest of our lives.”

“And I’m yours, Finnick,” you responded immediately, pulling him down for a kiss. “Now let’s get this party over with so we can have some real fun, sounds good?”

He laughs, nodding. “That sounds absolutely amazing, my darling.”

You both had finally managed to escape everyone extremely late, or early depending on how you looked at it as you had finally left after meeting Plutarch Heavensbee and got to your private room. The estate was something given to you by Snow when you both had finally finished being sold, a permanent home in the Capitol you would finally take advantage of before burning it down to the ground in your dreams.

You and Finnick both stood on the balcony, staring at the people partying until loud fireworks went off. Looking up, you saw Snow raising his glass toward you both. Finnick took your hand, leading you back inside before closing the glass doors and shutting the pearly white curtains.

With a sigh, you sat on the bed. You stared down at the rope around your wrist, the entire rope that the boys wrapped around your form being kept with Cinna for safe keeping. The rope melted with the gold, pearls being hidden by both gold and the fishing rope still sparkling. Your eyes went down to your ring before Finnick took your hand, kissing your skin softly.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You stare at him as his hands move from yours, pushing up your dress before kissing at the garter around your thigh. “I want you, Finnick. All of you. I want everything.”

He smiled as his teeth dragged along your garter, a gasp falling from your lips as his tongue trailed over your skin, the white lace studded with pearls sticking to your thigh. “I’ll give you everything, darling.”

You look up as someone knocks, a sigh falling from your mouth as he slowly stands up, taking off his blazer. “Want to start taking that off?”

It was easy to slip it off, especially because Cinna made it that way knowing how you and Finnick were, and you stood in front of the mirror. You rubbed your lace covered body, the lingerie Cinna designed still on before turning to see your exposed ass. It exposed your pussy as well, if you were able to see it in the position you were in, but you laid against the bed, waiting.

Finnick always knew how impatient you were, so after speaking with Haymitch and getting the gold bracelets you both were first given, he walked back in slowly. He knew you didn’t hear him, not over your loud moans as you fingered yourself, desperate to find release in that one special spot only Finnick knew.

He leans on the wall, watching your lace covered thighs shake and spread wide as you push both hands into your wet cunt, twisting and thrusting in and out to find that one area of pleasure. He watched you moan, groan, and whine loudly as your hips rut into your fingers, riding them to cause as much pleasure as you could.

Finnick knew you wouldn’t be able to get off though, not whenever your cunt was addicted to his fingers, his cock - your body was used to him, addicted to his body, memorized by his own just like you had memorized him. No one else knew how to make the other cum like each other, not when your bodies have learned and memorized and became addicted like a drug.

He walked over, slowly and quietly, letting his pants fall to the ground as softly as he could before climbing onto the bed. Your eyes snapped open, but you whined when you saw Finnick. “Fin. Fin, please, I can’t- I can’t.”

He laughs. “Can’t what, darling? Tell me what you want.”

You pulled your fingers from your cunt, whining when you saw them covered in your lewd juices. “I want you to love me, Finnick. I want to feel you.”

He groaned loudly as he leaned down, sucking on your fingers as he pushed his own into your mouth. He sucked on yours with a groan, it had been so long since he had tasted your pretty pussy. He was drunk on you in no time as you gagged on his nimble fingers, and when he pulled one hand away from your mouth, he pushed the other straight back into your mouth.

You groaned as he pulled away from your fingers, kissing your ring finger before kissing against your pelvis, licking a firm line down your slit. He gathered all of your slick juices with his tongue, sucking and popping against your hot cunt as you thread your fingers into his hair. You whined, gasping as his fingers pulled out of your mouth, pushing into your already stretched pussy.

His fingers were longer than your own, immediately finding that spot you were desperately trying to find. You threw your head back, gasping as his other hand pushed into you, both of his fingers thrusting in and out of you, twisting and stretching your pretty cunt. You whined, squirming before his elbow pushed into your thigh, his lips pressing to your garter.

“Be good, darling,” he says, teeth tugging it down to your knee. “Or I’ll stop here and now.”

You nodded, whining. “Y-Yes, yes Fin, I’ll be good. I promise.”

He smiled, tongue flicking against your already puffy clit, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud. “Will you, darling? You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nodded immediately, back arching as his fingers pushed open your cunt. Your hips buck as his tongue push into you with a loud groan, a scream leaving your lip as he thrusts his fingers in, his slimy appendage fucking you with his fingers. You attempt to close your thighs, wailing as one of his hands pull out of you, slapping your clit with basically a growl. “Behave, Y/N, or I won’t be so nice later.”

You nod. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry. I’ll be good, I promise, please don’t stop.”

He hummed, his fingers slowly, lazily thrusting into you. “I don’t know… you said you were going to be good and then you pulled something like that.”

“Fin, I need you. I need you, please. I swear, I’ll be a good girl, I’ll be your good little slut.”

He hummed, smirking up at you with a firm lick to your pussy. “Oh yeah? You’ll be good, hm? Why don’t you… why don’t you show me? Be a good bunny for me.”

Your eyes rolled back. He rarely used that nickname, and now that he did, you knew you were in for an extremely long night.

“Yes, yes Finnick, I will. I promise.”

He sits back on his heels, pulling his fingers out of you to suck them into his mouth, grinning at you. “Well then show me. Show me how much you love to fuck, bunny.”

Immediately, you nodded as he fixed himself onto the bed, laying back with a lazy grin. He’s pumping his cock, oh his beautiful fucking cock. It was so pretty, long and flushed red at the tip, waxed down like the grooming stage always did. You whined as you licked along the bottom, sucking at his full balls as you joined his hand in pumping. “Finnick, they shaved you down,” it was slightly saddening, you always did like that trail of hair that led from under his belly button down to his base. You licked where that line would’ve been, another whine falling from your lips. “I always liked it when you had hair.”

“I know, bunny, but it’s not like it’d make you any less of a slut.” He grins, winking as he ruts his hips into the air. “Be a good girl and get off on my cock already.”

You nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his tip before crawling up on his body. Swinging a leg over his waist, you hold his cock up so that his hard length doesn’t slap against his lower stomach. You whined as you sunk down on him, his hands rubbing against your thighs. His thumb settled on the mark Snow gave you, an identical one settled in the same area on his thigh. “Come on bunny, give me a show.”

You sink down on his cock, head thrown back as he hissed loudly. “Fuck, Finnick!”

“You’re so tight, darling, tighter than ever holy shit,” he curses, groaning loudly as you slowly push yourself up before sinking down again, rolling to make his cock hit a new spot you’ve never felt before. Your eyes rolled back as his large hands settled back on your hips groaning all over again. “You’re so fucking good darling, come on. Come on, use me darling, I want you to cum on my cock.”

You whined loudly as you leaned down, kissing his lips. “Don’t say those words. Please.”

He stroked your cheek with a nod, sighing as he kissed your lips. “I want you, Y/N. Please, I want all of you.”

You whimper as his hips roll into yours, but with this new angle of leaning forward and his hands forcing your hips into his own as you kiss him. His lips were always so sweet, perfect, slightly chapped but smooth and delicious against your own. You loved it, oh and you loved him.

The sex wasn’t even sex anymore, it was love in its pure physical form, his cock sheathed deep inside of you as he kissed every inch of your skin. His thumb was settled on that mark, the same mark he had, but it was different this time. The man on top of you was the love of your life, not someone who bought you.

You pulled him up for a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Don’t stop, Fin,” you whisper against his lips. “Never stop.”

He groaned loudly, shaky hands stroking your cheeks as he nodded. “I promise, darling. I won’t, I’ll love you until I pass out.”

You whine loudly as he thrusts into you, eyes rolling back as you feel your stomach basically clench as you squeezed his cock, groaning loudly as you cum. He choked, collapsing onto you as his cum spurts into you, perfect and filling in all the right ways. Your eyes rolled back as his hips continue to thrust, sweat coated body rubbing against your own as you pulled his lips back onto yours.

“Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he grins. “I won’t, darling. I love you.”

You giggled. “I love you.”

You both finished later, bodies hot and sticky with sweat and cum as you lazily pressed kisses to each other’s lips. “We’re going into the games today,” he whispers, and this time, you weren’t scared.

“I don’t care anymore,” you whisper back, smiling. “As long as I’m with you.”

He smiled, eyes watering. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

You shake your head back. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

“We’re both getting out of there, darling,” he whispers into your hair, pressing more kisses to your head. “I swear.”

You looked up at him, smiling. This time, you really did believe him. “I love you, Finnick Odair.”

He smiles back. “I love you, Y/N Odair. Forever and always.”

You lean up, kissing his lips. “And when we meet in our next life.”

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

Taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪 𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪 𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪 𓆩[@ok-boke]𓆪 𓆩[@instabull]𓆪 𓆩[@maxinehufflepuffprincess]𓆪 𓆩[@starryeddie]𓆪 𓆩[@ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations]𓆪 𓆩[@taestrwbrry]𓆪 𓆩[@iveraly]𓆪 𓆩[@b1llzb1tch]𓆪 𓆩[@avoxrising]𓆪 𓆩[@aquawhore]𓆪 𓆩[@luna-ann]𓆪 𓆩[@maliaaaa]𓆪 𓆩[@jyessaminereads]𓆪

next part will be uploaded this Sunday! (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.21.23)

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muted-like-sunset · 2 years

Text

Spark| Chapter 5

peeta mellark x fem! Reader

masterlist

word count: 5k

trigger warnings: body modification, nudity, food/eating, descriptions of starvation (vague), fire and being lit on fire, horses, aggression between male characters, mild violence, a little bit of sexual tension, crowds, kissing.

(mostly) unedited and as always, all mistakes are my own.

The prep team is odd. Octavia, a plump woman with green skin, works diligently filing Y/N’s nail into nice uniform shapes. She calls them ‘almond’ shapes and remarks on their thinning and elongating of Y/N’s hands continuously throughout her work, delighting Flavius. Flavius stands at the top of her body, his hands working some product into her hair for what must be the hundredth time. They speak to each other so rapidly that Y/N can’t understand what they’re saying.

The Capitol accent is bizarre. Their voices are a much higher pitch than she’s used to, with strange clipped vowels and hissing ‘s’ sounds. She can’t help but momentarily miss Effie Trinket, even with all of her strange outfits and makeup she’s more palatable than these strangers. Still, when the strange people around her turn their eyes to her she tries her best to smile.

Venia, the woman who seems the most calm of the three, is tall and thin with an incredibly angular face. She’s almost otherworldly, like something out of a dream. Y/N watches as she works with quick precision to rip every piece of hair from Y/N’s body almost painlessly. Her body has long gone somewhat numb under their treatment, whether from the consistent pain or her anxiety she couldn’t tell, but she is grateful despite her dislike of them. When Octavia turns to her again, she makes an effort to pay close attention to her lips in an attempt to understand.

“There! I think we’re almost done with you, dear.” she glances at Venia and grimaces. “We’ll just hose you down again and check to make sure!”

Y/N gives a small smile in an effort to be kind to these strangers. “Thank you, I appreciate it. There’s not much reason to look nice in Twelve.”

This wins over the strange people entirely. Octavia gasps, covering her mouth with both hands. Flavius lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and nods to her. “Now that we’ve given you a little bit of a shine, you’re really not awful at all!”

It’s a weird compliment, one that would feel backhanded coming from anyone but these three. Somehow, she feels that they truly mean to make her feel pretty. When they’ve rinsed her skin again and applied some mildly sticky cream that first burned and then soothed her skin they have her stand. They circle around her with tweezers, eyes squinted and hands ready to pluck any remaining hairs from her skin. She feels a bit shy, stripped completely naked in front of the three strangers. Oddly, she doesn’t feel ashamed of having her entire body on display for them any more than she would being bare in front of Mama or Mrs. Everdeen. There’s some quality to the trio that makes her feel mostly at ease.

When they’ve deemed her hairless they take a step back together. Y/N resists the urge to cover herself, instead letting them have a final look over her. Then, Venia gestures towards a mirror. Y/N takes a small look, not wanting to see herself in the situation for fear of blushing. Still, she takes the time to commend their work.

“I look beautiful, thank you.” She smiles, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.

At her praise the prep team dissolves into smiles and giggles, prancing around her and readjusting her hair or taking another look at her nails. Venia puts a gentle stop to the celebration. “I think you are ready for Cinna.”

The groups flits around for a minute, gathering things back in their places. Then, they're bobbing merrily out of the room. She grabs her robe off of a stool and tugs it over her shoulders, tucking her hands against herself to pull the thin fabric closer to her skin. A shiver runs up her spine. Any moment, Cinna will be entering the room and she’ll be forced to smile and be grateful for someone that she can’t help but hate. Still, she finds herself curious what her stylist may look like. She thinks about other stylists she’s seen with skin stretched so tight over their bodies they look starved. There’s one stylist that sticks out in her memory, a woman she saw once in a rerun of a game from the past. She had been entirely made over to look like a cat, complete with artificial whiskers. Asher had poked fun at the woman, whispering in Y/N’s ear little things he noticed about her. Thinking back, it was childish and mean, but she holds tight to the memory in hope that she won’t forget anything.

A man enters the room, a surprisingly normal looking man. His dark skin seems unchanged, his brown hair cropped short to his head. He gives her a gentle smile, looking remorseful. She prickles at this, she doesn’t need his pity.

“Hello, Y/N. I’m Cinna, I’ll be your stylist.” His voice is even, almost more remorseful than anything else. She takes a breath, not wanting him to manage to make her cry. Now that she’s in the Capitol, she has to stay strong. Any hope of survival that she has relies entirely on the people becoming smitten with her, so she lays everything on extra thick. With her new practice with the prep team, she tries smiling at him.

It’s a strange, forced smile that feels more like a grimace than anything else. Cinna clearly notices, but says nothing about it and instead moves on to inspect her further. He helps her remove her robe and begins walking a smooth, slow circle around her.

“You’re new this year? You don’t look familiar.” She tries, her eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Yes.” Cinna replies simply, never deviating from his task.

She wants to comment on him, to spark more conversation in order to avoid being studied in silence, but nothing comes to mind. She doesn’t want to upset him.

“So, Y/N, that little girl from your district. Primrose, was it?” He asks in a soft voice.

“She’s a friend.” Y/N answers his unasked question tensely. This surprises her, why had she even spoken?. Cinna, like her prep team, has weaseled his way into her good graces and she can’t place how. If everyone in the Capitol was like them, this whole process was going to be a lot easier than she imagined. She could endear herself to these people, she’d had years practice making people back home like her. It wasn’t necessarily something she did on purpose, outside of Katniss and Gale, of course. Still, she doesn’t want to like them.

Cinna, though, the way he looks at her makes her pause. He takes her in with such admiration and reverence, not at all the way the people at the train station had looked at her. No, those people watched her and Peeta with hungry eyes as though they couldn’t wait to watch them bleed. She supposes Cinna could be very much the same underneath his kind exterior, but something tugs on her heart and tells her to trust him.

“Volunteering for her was very brave. I’m sorry you have to go through all this.” He murmurs. Y/N nods at his words, not sure if she’s agreeing with him or simply acknowledging him. “Go on and put your robe back on, let’s have a chat.”

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice, pulling her robe back into its rightful place and tightening it around herself until she can hardly breathe. Then and only then does she follow Cinna through a door and to a plush couch. After sitting, Cinna presses a couple things on a small device and within a few seconds the top of the coffee table is opening up. It opens into a smooth flat surface covered in plates of food.

“Eat, I’m sure you’re hungry.” Cinna says simply, beginning to collect small portions onto a plate himself. Y/N grabs a plate from the coffee table and looks over the food. What did these people do all day? If she could get food at the press of a button, what would she fill her day with? If there were no need to risk her life wandering into the woods. The kids in town join clubs, Peeta was in wrestling. Madge Undersee played instruments, piano maybe? She’s sure that’s what Asher would pick. If they had the time, they could sit out in the meadow and sing to the birds. She could watch Asher smile and tell animated stories filled with improvised songs. She could relax in their living space and listen to him humming.

These thoughts conjure images of his lithe frame and thin face. His slightly hollow cheeks turn her stomach. Here she is, sitting in front of more food than she and Cinna could possibly eat while her family worries over their next meal back home. To soothe herself, she picks small portions like Cinna and tastes them, trying to figure out how she could recreate them once she got home. She fixates on the things Asher would like the most, namely the chicken in orange sauce and the sweet gem colored candies. The chicken dish would be easy enough, a wild duck or turkey in place of the chicken, probably two or three more to trade for the oranges required to make the sauce. She couldn’t figure what was in it, but with enough trial and error with easier to find fruits, maybe strawberries, she could probably get close enough. The candies would be much harder, she didn’t even want to think what might go into making them.

What were they eating now? Asher would be in school, perhaps he’ll have a filling lunch and she can worry less about his dinner. Her parents, likely both on shift in the mines, their lunch was questionable. Sometimes, the miners would have some sort of stew provided by peacekeepers. It was often just before some visit by higher ups, so it wasn’t very likely. She wonders if her parents have eaten at all today, if maybe Katniss and Gale have scored massively on something in the woods and her family is decently fed. She worries about Asher sitting in on his lessons on an empty stomach.

These thoughts grow until she finds that deep anger within her again. These strange Capitol citizens would never have the worries she does, so why are they pretending to care for her? She pushes her plate away from herself on the coffee table, settling for drinking a small cup of some kind of sweet juice. Cinna takes notice, gently setting his plate down as well.

“Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve wound up here. Truly, you must find us so awful.” He says quietly, watching her farce. She shies away from his view, trying to force her frustrated tears back in. No, she will not cry. Not here in the Capitol, not in the arena. It is a small act of defiance, but she clings to it. They will not tear her down, not if she can help it. Cinna recollects himself, sitting up a bit straighter. “Would you like to talk about what you’ll be wearing for the opening ceremony?”

This, Y/N can handle. She takes a steadying breath, sitting up straight to try to match Cinna’s posture. Nodding, she sets down her glass.

“Excellent.” Cinna encourages, turning a bit to face her.

She thinks of years prior. In the tribute parade, the costumes worn often reflect the tribute’s home district. More often than not, that means district Twelve is dressed as coal miners. Yay. One year sticks out in her memory. The tributes had been stripped naked and covered in coal dust. She tenses, wondering if that is where she’s headed.

Sensing her unease, Cinna begins to explain. “See, Portia and I have been talking and we want to make sure the two of you are memorable. So rather than focusing on mining, we’ve chosen to focus on coal itself and what do we do with coal?”

She hesitates, turning her eyes to him. Surely he can’t be serious. “We burn it.” She offers.

Cinna grins and for a moment she wonders if he might be insane. “You’re not afraid of fire, are you Y/N?”

The process of dressing is easy enough. She’s immensely relieved and downright grateful when Cinna pulls out a garment bag. He helps her into it, the material is completely foreign. Whatever she’s wearing is skin tight and completely black. Its a strange material she doesn’t recognize, but Cinna is patient and explains everything he does. The bodysuit is made of a mixture of materials, some spandex and some fake leather, all skin tight.

“I just think it would be a shame for someone so brave to be overlooked, don’t you?” He murmurs as he readjusts her bodysuit.

“I hope so.” She responds quietly, hands clenched at her sides.

Cinna smiles. “You won’t need to worry about that, Y/N. Truely, I think you’ll have the eyes of everyone in the Capitol tonight.”

Once he’s seemingly finished making minor adjustments to her look he spins her to face a full length mirror. She gasps, taking in her reflection. Her makeup is dark and smoky, looking borderline like a smearing of ash on her face. She looks deadly, the look sharpening her features without obscuring them. The bodysuit is as tight as it feels, but she doesn’t find herself hating it. To top it all off a cape rests around her shoulders, it’s made up of varying shades from yellow to orange to a deep red. She almost finds herself disappointed.

“Don’t worry,” Cinna smiles when he notices her face. “This isn’t the full look. That, we have to save for the parade.”

She wants to ask, to be made to understand like when Cinna explained the fabrics, but the glow in Cinna’s eyes reassures her that she’ll understand soon enough.

It’s a quick walk to the elevator and an even quicker ride. They enter the prep space and Y/N takes in the sight of her fellow tributes. Some turn to get a look at her, so she squares her shoulders and stares ahead, glancing over them with ease as though they are nothing to her. She catches sight of district Twelve’s chariot. It’s solid black, four black horses stand in front of it. She detaches herself from Cinna’s side, moving to the horses instead. They’re much larger than she imagined and, with a closer look, absolutely rippling with muscle. It’s strange to think of how powerful they look, she’s used to watching them trot gracefully during the parade. She reaches up a careful hand and waits for the horse on the left to sniff her. Once it seems comfortable enough with her presence, she strokes a gentle hand down its face.

“Hello.” She coos gently, watching its dark eyes.

“Hello.” Comes the voice behind her. She jumps and spins around quickly, her eyes meeting his chest. She looks up and recognizes the boy from District One, though she can’t think of his name. “Can I join?”

She eyes him, looking for some sign that he means to hurt her before they even enter the arena. Somehow, the more she looks at him the less she feels he means to hurt her. Call it naive, but something about the look in his eyes is more curious than deadly.

“Sure,” She replies, eyes moving back to the horses. “You’re from One, right?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, reentering her line of sight. “And you’re from Twelve.”

She doesn’t acknowledge him, instead shifting her eyes to see if Peeta has arrived yet. Seeing this, the boy speaks again. “I’m loving the get up. Very,” he pauses, thinking for a moment and worries his bottom lip with a grin. “catty.”

Peeta steps out of the elevator with his prep team in an identical jumpsuit to her own, his eyes searching for a moment before they meet hers. He furrows his brow when he notices the boy from One. Y/N looks back at the boy in front of her, sizing him up a bit. His outfit is bright, a solid gold chest plate seemingly formed to fit his chest perfectly and encrusted with diamonds. District One, she thinks, luxury.

“Yours looks expensive. What’s your name again?” She asks casually. He stands a bit straighter, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You seriously don’t remember me?” He asks with a laugh, eyes raking over her again. She bristles.

“Nope, sorry.” She looks for Peeta again, finding him still by their mentor’s side. The sight makes her a bit angry, he noticed her situation and stayed away? So much for district solidarity.

“Marvel,” He sticks out his hand, bringing her attention back to him. She hesitates for a moment, looking back to Peeta. He watches her curiously, eyes darting between Marvel’s outstretched hand and her own. She takes his hand, shaking it gently. Screw Peeta Mellark and his stupid handsome face. Screw his stupid charm and wit.

“Y/N L/N.” She introduces herself, letting her hand linger in his. If she can get in with the careers this will be all that much easier. Just thinking of the supplies eases her conscience.

“Oh, I know. You’re really quite the topic this year.” He grins, reaching his hand up and feeling the sleeve of her jumpsuit, eyes focused on her wrist. “You’ll probably be even more of one after everyone sees you in this little number. Shame the same can’t be said for your district partner.”

She bristles at this before making herself calm. Why should she care what they think of him? If she wants to get home, she’s got to start thinking of herself. She shrugs, eying Peeta briefly. He’s turned from her, engaged in a tense conversation with Haymitch. Haymitch, however, is focused on her with a contemplative look. She grins, feeling better about proving herself to her mentor. Surely he can’t think she’s weak after she wriggles her way into the career pack. “He can handle his own.”

She isn’t sure why she says it, why she’s defending Peeta like it even matters. Marvel meets her eyes, grinning wolfishly.

“I’m sure he can.” He practically purrs. He looks past her for a moment before deflating a bit. “Well, I’ll see you on the other side, cat.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in her throat at this, a mixture of nerves and genuine surprise. Marvel grins at her again, bouncing back a couple steps with a boyish grin before turning to rejoin the rest of the careers.

“It’s Y/N!” She calls after him, grinning despite the situation. In a strange way, something about his humor reminds her a bit of Gale.

“Isn’t that what I said?” He grins, walking the last few steps back to his alliance. They glare at her venomously, well Glimmer does.

“Y/N,” Cinna calls. She turns, watching as he approaches with Peeta and a woman, she thinks Peeta’s stylist, in tow. “You ready?”

She nods, running her hands down her legs and giving a real smile thanks to her newfound confidence. Sure, Marvel could be lying, but his hungry gaze on her form lets her know she doesn’t need to worry. Peeta looks irritated, keeping his gaze strictly on his stylist.

Cinna places something atop her head and gestures for them to mount the chariot where, surprisingly, Peeta offers her a hand. He keeps a careful watch of her, keeping his hand outstretched even when she doesn’t take it.

“Go on, I’ll steady you.” He says simply, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. Not wanting to make a scene, she takes his hand and lets him help her up. When she gets a foot on the chariot she pushes up, rocking back a bit in her unsteadiness. Peeta is there to steady her with a warm hand on her back, waiting for her to get her footing before he lets go. He pulls himself up as Cinna begins to speak.

“Now,” He begins, pulling a lit torch in front of himself carefully. Y/N blanches, wondering how she didn’t notice he was carrying it before. Surely, he didn’t plan to light them on fire? “the fire is synthetic, you won’t feel any heat. Are you ready?”

She glances to Peeta, trying to gauge his reaction. Synthetic fire? Can they do that? Noticing her uneasiness, he slips his hand into hers.

“We’re ready, right Y/N?” He asks, giving her a look. She takes a deep breath and nods. If all else fails they’ll burn together, she guesses. What an unforgettable opening ceremony.

Leaning into her ear, Peeta whispers, “I’ll pull your cape off if you’ll pull off mine.”

“Deal.” She deadpans, gripping his hand tighter as the first chariots begin to depart.

“Light them up.” Peeta’s stylist says, taking her own torch to Peeta’s cape. Y/N holds tight, watching with anxious eyes as his cape goes up in flames. She blanches further when the crown on Peeta’s head goes up as well. She keeps a careful eye on it as though to truly fulfill her promise, only letting herself turn away when the chariot begins to move. “And remember, smile! They’re going to love you!”

They approach the doors, District Ten’s chariot leaving ahead, when she leans to him.

“I don’t think I can do this.” She admits, keeping a tight grip on his hand.

“I’ll be right here the whole time, I won’t let you fall.” He reassures her as though that’s what she meant. “We’re teammates, aren’t we?”

She faces him as their chariot approaches the doors. Eleven is crossing into the dwindling sunlight now, massive Thresh and tiny Rue turning their faces to the crowd. She thinks of Marvel and the other careers, of their lifelong training with weapons and the bloodlust. Peeta Mellark, despite his potential for backstabbing, seems like a better option than winding up alone. So she nods, shifting closer to him.

They break through the doors and into the sunlight to a roaring crowd. People steadily catch sight of them, whooping and shouting their names. The banners change to a live view of them, projected for everyone to see. Y/N catches sight of herself and finally sees what they are seeing. She looks like she’s emerging from the fire like some sort of mythical creature. Her smokey makeup adds dimension to her face as though bathed in shadow despite the sunny weather. The crowd whoops, chanting their names and, for the first time in her memory, their district.

“See?” Peeta grins, a strong hand gripping the front of the chariot. “They love you!”

She isn’t sure what drives her to do it, but she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. Maybe it’s a thank you for his steadying grasp, maybe for his kind words, she doesn’t know. The crowd screams and flowers begin to rain down on their chariot. Peeta grins, raising their interlocked hands into the air.

If the crowd could get any louder, Y/N is sure they would.

They glide easily into the final loop, circling in front of the President’s spot perched up high. A flower comes her way, so she reaches up and snatches it out of the air leaving Peeta as her only grasp on the chariot. She smells the flower, a blood red rose, and raises it to where she thinks it came from, grinning her thanks to the thrower.

Peeta steadies her as they slow down and she catches glimpses of the other tributes. Some turn to look at them, others stay facing towards President Snow. The anxiety returns to her and she grasps the chariot again, letting the thorns on the stem dig into her palm. She glances to the side, realizing how tight of a grip she has on Peeta’s hand. She’s starting to loosen her grip when he grips her hand even tighter.

“No, please don’t let go.” He borderline begs through a breathy laugh. She tilts her head, trying to figure him out. “I don’t want to fall out of this thing.”

“I won’t.” She affirms. “Just don’t want to cut off circulation to your hand, you’re gonna need it.” He laughs.

“Well,” His voice drops into a whisper as the crowd quiets down, leaning in to her ear. “We’ve got three more between us. I think we’ll be fine.”

The whispered words send a strange anxiety curling in her stomach, so she leans back into her confident posture. She tries to focus on something else, but the sight of her face still on the screens makes her uneasy.

The chariots rest now in the City Circle directly in front of the President’s mansion. He’s smaller than he seems on camera, looking more like somebody’s grandfather than the ruthless leader of their country. She shoves the thought from her head just as fast as it comes. No need to make guesses on others, assuming someone is harmless is about the dumbest thing she could do. She should know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving, after all no one would guess that sweet little Y/N L/N was spending every morning in the woods or plotting how she could take down her fellow tributes to get back home.

She takes a moment to look to the screens around her, trying to see what they’re focused on. Typically, they try to get a final shot of each chariot before focusing on the President. They cycle through quickly before the cameras focus on Peeta and herself. They stay for longer than they should, letting the people admire their costumes in the dimming light of the day. She has to hold back a satisfied grin at the sight of herself. Cinna has given her a leg up, surely. After all, how could anyone forget Y/N L/N; the girl who was on fire. Yes, the people will remember their names and faces now. Someone will want to sponsor them, and if she can secure herself a spot with the careers she’s got a real chance.

The thought sends a chill up her spine. She’s standing hand in hand with Peeta and didn’t even think to include him in her plan. Maybe, just maybe she can convince the careers of his strengths as well. After all, she did call herself his partner. As dangerous as he could potentially turn out, she has to admit that standing next to him feels powerful almost as much as it feels safe.

The cameras cut away for President Snow to give his opening speech and Y/N shifts her stance, tightening her grasp on Peeta. He seems surprised but says nothing, thumb moving to rub the back of her hand.

The President goes through his usual speech and it isn’t long before they’re circling the City Circle once more before heading into the training center. Peseta hops down the moment they stop, reaching up to help her down.

“You two were incredible! Oh and your costumes, you just look so beautiful!” Effie trills, a massive grin on her face as she’s flanked by the prep teams. Flavins and Octavia are weeping, smiles on their faces. Y/N smiles back, body radiating with the adrenaline of their success.

“Nice work out there you two.” Haymitch smiles as Cinna and Portia remove their capes and crowns. Portia sprays something on them to extinguish them.

Y/N looks away to find Marvel, some curiosity driving her to look for his reaction to their costumes. She spots him beside his district partner who is batting her own prep teams hands away from her in a huff. He’s watching her with bright eyes, smiling a predatory smile. She detaches herself from Peeta, grinning once more to her prep team as she steps away. She’ll only be gone a moment, what harm could it be?

Marvel’s eyes light up as she comes closer and she grins at him sheepishly.

“So, final thoughts on the get up?” She prompts, rubbing her hand where she can still feel Peeta’s firm grip.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” He purrs, leaning in close to her ear. “I must say, flames really suit you.”

She pulls back nervously, lurching when his hand grabs her arm to keep her close. Suddenly there’s a hand on her back and she startles, turning to find a stone faced Peeta locked onto Marvel.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have to go.” Peeta says calmly. His body language is languid, but the fire behind his blue eyes screams danger. Marvel straightens at the challenge, his eyes leaving Y/N to meet Peeta’s glare.

“What are you, her bodyguard?” He taunts, hand not releasing her arm. She tenses at the thought of being between the two when whatever this is bubbles up. She tries to pull herself from Marvel’s grasp, failing when he tightens his hold. Peeta looks to his hand, stepping somehow closer.

“Let her go.” He warns. Neither step away from the other and Y/N glances over her shoulder for help. Haymitch advances on them cautiously, eyes darting between them and some other danger. She follows his line of sight, catching sight of the peacekeepers heading their way as well.

“Peeta,” she worries, eyes darting back to the two. “We have to go.” His eyes follow her direction, finding the peacekeepers easily. Marvel turns as well, releasing her just enough that she can pull away. Peeta puts himself between the two, pushing her to walk back towards their mentor.

Haymitch collects them easily, guiding the pair to the elevator just as the peacekeepers pause in their steps. When their teams have made it into the elevator, Effie reaches and pushes the 12. Y/N catches Marvel’s eyes as the doors close, a grin on his lips.

#Peeta #Peeta Mellark #the hunger games peeta #THG Peeta #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark angst #The Hunger Games #THG #thg rewrite #Hunger Games #hunger games rewrite

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the-disaster-in-waiting · 4 months

Text

The Seamstress & The Baker (Part IV) (Peeta Mellark X Reader)

(Y/N) never knew when Peeta would return. If he would return? The capital held so many dark memories, almost a grave he could choose to visit or leave to rot and never rekindle the play he put on for it.

She kept replaying the games in her mind the fear and trepidation at Peeta’s choice to team up with the careers, his hunting Katniss. Her anger that he would hurt her. Her relief when she was able to escape and shock, fear and sickness in her stomach cause a small bout of sickness to jump out of her when she thought Peeta may die.

Stabbed alone painted to hide among rocks by a stream. And the poor sweet girl from district 11. Rue she’d met her once or twice as they’d pass each other in halls her small smile, always alert to those around her she was sweet, wearing a beautiful puffy dress. (Y/N) smiled at the reminder of her twirling backstage at the small joy of such a privilege to wear what the capital would call an easy breakfast dress.

At that she turned off her tv. Hiding in a fortress of blankets and pillows she cried. It was different being so close. When she’d watch with her father in the years past she kept distance from them. Her father, the seamstress who handled all she never met the tributes, only seeing them through a screen.

But knowing them, their names, personalities and lives hurts too much. How could she handle losing Peeta? She didn’t think she could.

When Katniss finally found Peeta (Y/N) cried with joy glad they kept safe together. She’d wished she could send something, anything to help them but she could barely help her father for the time being and with President Snow so upset with her part played in the stories circulating she couldn't take any chances.

Finally it was left down to Katniss and Peeta (Y/N) gasped kneeled right next to her screen at the revelation her whole body tensed at the prospect of one or another and the part that hated herself was given all the material in the world when the smallest piece of her heart begged Katniss to let Peeta live. She knew he would never hurt Katniss and that he was too selfless to not try and hurt himself for her.

When she saw them walk out. Their first moments as two winners of the hunger games she whooped arms waving wildly and body not far behind so proud they’d been able to survive.

But as they walked fast past all of the crowd Peeta barely looked up from the floor. Same from Katniss her face fell, they’d survived but at what cost? Would they even want to be here? Hands held tightly together they moved to the train as Peeta turned them waving to the crowd behind them as the doors closed. No longer there, a fast train sent them straight back to their district to recover.

And (Y/N) proceed to wait.

Peeta couldn’t handle it. The nightmares, the scars. I mean for god sake he lost his leg. How was he meant to handle that?. Every night he had the same nightmare: Katniss, Cinna, Portia, Effie, Haymitch and (Y/N) now joining him in the hunger games. blood , death it was all too much every night waking in the empty house he could now call home. His family were eager to join him but after the fifth night woken by screams and holding him down so the scratches on his face couldn’t reach his brain.

He stared at the letters so many times. She’d written three before giving up. He felt ashamed but how could he answer any question she had when he couldn't even answer his own?

Who did he love? Was the story of loving Katniss a lie? He’d fallen for her the minute he met her in school dreaming of marrying her when older. But as time passed those feelings disappeared or at least he hoped they did. That day in the rain he knew what it meant to suffer, to be beaten with nothing and no one to rely on and that's why he knew he had to give her what he could, but was that all it was? Or were his old feelings helping make his decisions?.

When he met (Y/N) he knew she was pretty like Katniss; she was hardened from the tough decisions she’d made to survive. But unlike Katniss she liked him. She sat and talked with him sometimes so long the night would turn to morning strategizing and working together. She was astounded by his strength, moving her table to retrieve small buttons she dropped when sorting her boxes.

“That is perfect for you” she said smiling and going to try and grab a chair throwing it toward his head before he dutifully knocked it away. She laughed a short loud one before clapping and approaching him.

“Do that and no doubt the wives and widows will be falling over you” she held his head in one hand as she spoke. “Your pretty boy charms will help too, remember that” bopping his nose before shooing him out, closing the work room to return home.

He could only walk her till they reached his apartment. Whilst he wanted to continue he knew of the two she was better versed in the streets than him and she didn’t want him to be missing from walking too far down a dark road.

Each time they were alone she’d gently pat his forearm in thanks. Before disappearing and shouting back ‘sleep well Peeta do not fear the dark tonight, that is tomorrow's problem’.

When Haymitch got to know (Y/N) better he was able to see just how cunning she really was, her smarts lending way to more than her current career choice. But he saw the way her eyes darkened and tensed at the sight of President Snow even on a screen and knew, while they weren’t twins, their experiences lent to close cousins understanding the cruel uncle that would try and break their spirit anytime he saw them.

He could tell she cared for Peeta and that Peeta cared for her and Katniss his choices were a mixture of stupid and smart. With the coming visit to all districts he just hoped that the two victors could continue their play of affection and spare all their lives.

Peeta had begun to rely on Haymitch to read (Y/N)’s letters , never bothering to reply her choice of words and lack of emotion made it even harder for him to feel she even cared anymore how could she? He was promised to Katniss now in love forever in the eyes of the capital. Broken hobbling around with a false leg and scars covering his body he could barely stand to look at himself in a mirror. How could she? Or any woman for that matter?. Damaged, his own family fled from his terrifying screams at night unable to hold him back from inflicting his own damage to escape the visions.

Sometimes he thought it’d be easier to just follow Haymitch’s lead. He may be a drunk, unable to think even a single thought or act correctly but at least he wasn't aware of the walking nightmare they both lived.

#peeta mellark x reader #katniss and peeta #team peeta #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #peeta x reader

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ink-sinner · 1 year

Text

golden

— cinnabar x f!chief

genre : fluff

warnings : none

wordcount : 1,535

summary : through glimpses of the glittering sunset, the world stops spinning on its axis, and revolves around your sunlit figure instead.

Dustlight twinkles in the air, fluttering in the orange sunset like glitter dust. It weaves in and out of its golden spotlight, this thin strip of light, peeking from behind closed curtains, and in this dark office room, it is the only light that bleeds into the shadows and the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the far corner. In here, everything is subdued, and magnified into a thousand little heartbeats with each second that passes where your eyes are glued onto her trembling body. “Cinna,” a voice like honey tickles her ear. Your warm breath scatters on her skin, dizzyingly cool against her hot cheeks, and it tastes like the chocolate-mint ice cream you shared with her earlier. She feels like drowning when your thumb catches on her lower lip. “You know, I've always thought you had pretty lips.” “You always look so kissable.” The sunset swims in your eyes, like transparent fire flickering in the reflection of a raindrop. She wants to avert her eyes, but she finds she can't look away. “How do you do it?” Helpless. She feels helpless in your presence. Out-of-control, and distantly, she hears a pair of footsteps patter behind the door. The clock chiming. It feels so far away, everything else, heady like her heartbeat that both races madly against her rib, and beats slowly as if submerged underwater. Your thumb coaxes her lips to open, and even the winter chill can't suppress the warm shiver that passes through her body. In this empty bubble, floating above a haze of smoke and dreams, there is only you, the golden light, and the intoxicating tilt of your lips as you watch her melt with your words and touch. Cinnabar tightens her hold on your waist, and swallows harshly. “Chief . . .” Her voice sounds rough, breathy like she rarely is. There is a pleading note tangled through the end of it, except she doesn't know what she's begging for; except it only seems to excite you more, and the thin light glimmers in your curved eyes. You feel almost sadistic in your teasing, but your smile looks like sweet candy to her. “‘Chief?’” you ask. “You're still calling me that?” Her mouth is dry. Unconsciously, she licks her lips, and accidentally passes her tongue over your thumb, too — and she thinks her heart could stop at that moment, spare her the embarrassment. She tries to mumble an apology, stumbling over her words, but your little smile and the gold crescent in your grey eyes and the weight of your thumb on her lips and the gentle press of your palm against her cheek, and, You lean in, and press a kiss against her brow. And everything she was trying to say is washed away by the flush of her heartbeat in her ears. Your lips feel soft. “Won't you call me by my name, Cinnabar?” Your voice falls from her temple to her fevered pulse, and in this dizzy little room, she can hear the glass shape of her name fracture into pieces. It might just be her. It might just be her. She thinks she likes the way you call her name a little too much. “Please?” She looks away. Here, in between the dark and the warmth of your skin, everything feels even more intimate. She opens her mouth, faintly calling out your name; her voice trembles, tinged with shyness, a kind of silent reverence reserved for holy things, like the way your touch on her feverish skin feels like mosaic stained glass. She wants to curl up and hide, but she thinks she likes the way your name sounds on her lips a little too much, too. The thumb on her lips falls to cup her chin. Gently, you coax her to look up, look at you, and hesitantly, obediently, Cinnabar follows. Like she always does, for you. Is it the falling sunset dye? Your cheeks look scarlet in the fluttering light. Your press a skimming kiss on her eyelid. Cinnabar closes her eyes, and tries to calm her pounding heartbeat and shivering breaths. It feels impossible though — like holding onto sand, your lips kiss the top of her cheek, and she loses her breath all over again. “Say it again,” you ask, and helplessly, she obeys. Your name tumbles from her lips and into the dark office room, occupying the empty space like a halo, and when you lean in to brush a kiss against the side of her lips, Cinnabar sighs your name like a prayer as her heart stumbles in her chest. And then you lean back, just far enough that she can start to breathe again, just barely enough that she breathes in the air that you exhale. It's intoxicating. Mint and chocolate, the faraway memory of your soft smile overlaid with your blushing cheeks and your teasing hands on her in this moment. Your lashes tickle her cheek, and she can do nothing else but hold your waist, and melt into your touch. Your hands are so very cool against her fevered skin. And when you lean back in, your lips are so very soft against her own. It ends as it begins, skimming softly like ripples on the surface of a clear lake. The pressure of your lips feel gossamer-light, like something out of a dream that falls apart the moment she opens her eyes, that for a moment, she keeps her eyes closed, lingering on the memory of your lips against hers. It ends as it begins, gently, slowly, lighter than a feather's kiss on her lips. Gone so soon that she wonders briefly if it was all in her head. But you're here, and you're leaning against her, forehead-to-forehead, hands wrapped around her neck. Your crystal eyes are half-lidded and soft, watching her with a smile on your lips, and she wants to look away, but she can't, and she breathes in like drowning, inhaling water instead of air while the tips of your fingers draw ambiguous patterns on the back of her neck until she's dazed. "Cinna," you call out, and her name on your lips presses against her skin more firmly than your kiss did. She feels on fire, hypersensitive. “Yes?” The sound of her heartbeat drowns it all out. But you only smile at her, and the fading light reflects on your lip gloss, red and gold and indigo and starlight mixed together into a heady sight. She wants you to kiss her again. She wants to kiss you, too. “Are you nervous?” Cinnabar blinks, and almost lets out a laugh. Of course, she is. How can she not be? You're in front of her, sitting on her lap, and her hands are on your waist, your hands on her neck. You are all alone in this dark room, and you are close enough that Cinnabar can see the individual lashes casting spidery shadows on your cheek. Everything feels overwhelming, but she still finds herself wanting more. Of course, she's nervous. It's you. As if reading her thoughts, you laugh lightly, and take her hand. Her thoughts come in abstract shapes, starting and ending where your hand fits perfectly with hers, and it takes her a moment to realize you've rested her hand against your chest. Her cheeks flush red. “Chief! What are you —?” But you keep her hand on your chest, and even as Cinnabar tries to take her hand back, her attempts ring half-hearted. She just doesn't want to hurt you. Right. That's why she's not putting too much strength into it. Right. Maybe. She doesn't know. It's hard to think and her mouth is dry but it feels kind of soft despite the layers of cloth but she should really get your hand off— no, her hand— no, whatever. Doesn't matter, she just needs to— “Feel it?” you murmur. “I'm nervous, too.” Oh. Faintly, she can feel it. Fluttering beneath her fingertips, racing madly with the tempo of her own heart, it's so faint that Cinnabar almost mistakes it as her own nervousness, but it's there. Little hints that she affects you, too. Wide-eyed, she looks up, and meets your grey-eyed gaze. “Chief . . .” You raise a brow. “‘Chief’ again? I thought we already moved past that.” She thinks she'll just spontaneously combust, if this keeps on. Cinnabar bites her lip, and groans. “I . . . ugh, I'm sorry —” And then your lips are on hers again, and she forgets what she was even going to say. Your kiss is firmer, this time, pressing against her lips like waking her up from a dream. You pull back, smile, and laugh at her flushed face, and Cinnabar frowns at you. “Sorry, sorry.” You pinch her cheek, and your fingers are comfortingly cool against her hot skin. “You're just too cute.” She really thinks she'll just spontaneously combust, if this keeps on. Laughing, you take pity on her, and kiss her brow again. And, this time, when you lean in, Cinnabar meets you halfway. Your heartbeat races underneath her fingertips, beating in time with her own erratic heart, and it fills the empty space left behind by the golden glaze as the sun sinks fully below the horizon.

#path to nowhere #ptn #cinnabar #cinnabar x reader

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c1nn4-pr1sm4t1c · 2 years

Text

hello hello !! i am incredibly new to actually attempting to post my own content especially on tumblr but i decided fuck it why not !

let me introduce myself, yes ?

x for now, ive decided you all shall know me as cinna.

x im nonhuman and stopped counting how old i am a long time ago, but the body im in currently iz 20 yrz old.

x im a catboy, vampire, and a god. i also happen to be royalty.

x even on sfw accountz i dont allow minorz to interact with me and i absolutely will not be allowing it here.

x im engaged as well as on the aromantic spectrum, so please i know im lovely but dont try anything with me super serious. sure u can fawn over me or whatever i mean im hot and perfect and everything u cld ever dream of but please dont expect anything back from me. ill go into more detail if need be i mean, i dont really have anyone around right now lolz.

x in addition to being in the arospec, im bisexual + enbian.

x dollboy iz the main gender ill highlight here for simplicity but i am a xenogender neurohoarder and may discuss more eventually <3

x i typically use more pronounz but to keep it simple for here, i use it/doll/love/vamp

x https://listography.com/dni

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rusmii · 2 months

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hihi! which characters do you ship your moots with?:3

AAHANN u sent this like 3 weeks ago m sorry I'm just getting to this 💔

but if I have to ship my favs with charas.. they'd already know who their perfect match would be ;)

(any new moots i make will also be added to this list bc i like this idea a lot <3)

WARNING; kinda indepth😭

ALPHABETICAL ORDER!