#peeta fanfiction
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Survivor’s Remorse
Part One
18+ | NSFW | PTSD
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10
Part 11+
Peeta awoke to his name being whispered into the night. You’d stayed the night with him so he was well aware it could just be you having a nightmare. But...the second time you whispered it into his neck, he felt the pressure against his waist.
“Peeta”
You’d practically molded your body against his side. Your face stay tucked into his neck, somewhere he realized you loved to smell one day in the bakery, though you’d tried to hide it claiming it was the melted butter in his hands. You’d thrown your right leg across his waist, having pushed his shirt up a few inches exposing his thin golden happy trail, your right arm threaded in the front of his shirt, unwilling to let him leave your side.
It was where you had his right arm pinned between the two of you that was the true concern here.
He was already taller than you so it wasn’t hard for you to curl into him so that his hands rested below your waist. His right hand was clasped beneath yours, buried in your panties and rubbing against your slick folds. You grinded against his fingers, panting into his neck wantonly as your hips rocked back and forth. Peeta’s dick jumped in response.
Shit.
“Peeta please”, you breathed suckling at the skin of his neck in a limerick that could ask for the moon and he’d deliver.
When Peeta tried to recoil his fingers you whine in protest, shifting your hips down so that his middle finger slides deep within you up to his middle knuckle. Peeta was frozen in place unable to formulate a proper thought. Oh he’d always wanted to explore your body but he never anticipated you dreaming of it as well.
“Your hands”, you croon rocking your hips faster, your walls tightening around the thick digit, signaling an oncoming release as you shift and sink down onto his ring finger as well. Peeta could only think about how tight and soaked you were around him. Is this why you always stared at his hands? “Oh”
Holy shit. He had to wake you up now. Peeta’s left hand was still free so he used it to gently shake you awake at your shoulder. You were sleeping so deeply, something you only were capable of doing when he lay beside you. It took calling your name loudly to finally rouse you from your salacious dreaming.
Why was Peeta looking at you with such concern? You blinked a few times, adjusting your hip only to realize you’d been practically straddling him, his hand trapped under yours. You’d been unconsciously forcing him to make you feel good, as if the wetness on the seat of her panties could be anything but pleasure. You began to look around for some sort of escape but Peeta didn’t expect this reaction.
He needed to fix this now. It was ok! Oh, sweet love, it was more than alright! He just needed you conscious and looking him in his eyes if you were going to be greedily moaning for him. You two had never been intimate like this before. He needed every moment ingrained in your brain if you were going to have your firsts together. He reached for your cheek but you flinch back, breath quickening.
Peeta calls your name softly needing you know everything is ok but you can’t seem to look at him.
#the hunger games peeta#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta smut#peeta x reader#peeta mellark smut#hunger games#fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#hunger games fanfiction#Peeta fanfiction
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a darling and a virgin | f. odair
masterlist
summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.
pairing: finnick odair x reader
warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.
notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.
word count: 6.8k
Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.
For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.
Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.
For six whole months.
When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.
You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.
Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.
So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.
“Pretty cold out here.”
A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.
“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”
He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.
Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.
Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.
“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”
You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.
Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.
“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”
To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.
Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”
Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.
With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”
Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.
“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"
“Finnick.”
“He’s a fucking—”
“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”
He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.
You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.
His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.
The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”
You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.
Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.
“You’re a virgin?”
Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.
“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”
Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”
God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.
He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.
His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”
Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.
“Okay,” you said warily.
The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.
His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”
*************
You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.
Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.
After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.
You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.
Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—
“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.
But your gaze remained on the bed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”
Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.
“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”
He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”
“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”
He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”
A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.
Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.
The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.
“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”
The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.
You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.
Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.
“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.
You nodded.
“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”
His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.
“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.
He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.
“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”
Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.
Finnick Odair was kissing you.
His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.
This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.
A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.
“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”
He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”
Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”
“Okay, good.”
Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.
He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.
And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.
Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.
Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.
When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.
A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.
It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.
After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.
One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.
Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.
He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.
His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed.
As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.
Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.
“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.
But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.
“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”
His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.
Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.
Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”
You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”
And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.
There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.
Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.
Does it hurt?
You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.
He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.
His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.
Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.
Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.
He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.
Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.
Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.
Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.
He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.
His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.
Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”
He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.
Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.
His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.
While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.
Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”
Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.
You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.
And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.
Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.
People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.
His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.
“Finnick,” you moaned.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.
His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.
This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.
Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.
It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.
Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.
“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.
He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.
“Yes!” you cried out.
Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.
The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.
“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.
Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”
Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.
As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.
Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"
Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.
His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.
He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.
After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.
Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.
Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.
His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.
You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”
You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.
He whispered, “Me too.”
#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick x you#finnick imagine#thg finnick#sam claflin#catching fire#the hunger games#mockingjay#katniss and peeta#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fluff#finnick x oc#thg fanfiction
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Jealousy, Jealousy
Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader
Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous
Masterlist
“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.
“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.
“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.
“What?” You asked him.
“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”
“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.
“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.
“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.
“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.
“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.
“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.
“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.
“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.
“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”
“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”
“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.
“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.
“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”
“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.
“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”
“Definitely.”
“What do I do?” He whined.
“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.
“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.
“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.
“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”
“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”
“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.
“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.
“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.
“Are you?” You asked quietly.
“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.
“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.
“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.
When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.
“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.
“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.
“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.
“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.
“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”
“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.
“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”
“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.
“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.
“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”
“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”
“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”
“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.
“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.
“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.
“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.
“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.
“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”
“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”
“So you hate me now? All because I un-“
“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.
“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.
“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.
“What did you do?” Effie asked him.
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”
“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.
“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”
“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”
“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.
“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”
“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.
“I need to fix this.”
“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.
“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.
“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.
“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”
“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.
“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.
“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.
“What are you doing in here? Get out.”
“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.
“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.
“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.
“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.
“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.
“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”
“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”
“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.
“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”
“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.
“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.
“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.
“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.
“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.
“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.
“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.
“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”
“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.
“Me either.”
“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.
“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.
“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “
“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”
“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.
“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”
“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.
“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”
“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.
“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.
“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.
“Yeah. I know the feeling.”
“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.
“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.
“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”
“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.
“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.
“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.
“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.
“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.
“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.
“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.
“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.
“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”
#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark fanfic#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark whump#peeta mellark fanfiction#peeta x reader
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peeta's a dom and i stand by it
he fucked you like a star-crossed show-off, because peeta wanted to make sure your cunt remember his size. splitting you open and stretching you out always earned a wolfy grin from his lips. “feel that? i'm so deep in your tummy, baby. if i came inside, not a single drop would spill out.” he cooed in your ear, firm grip unmoving from your hips. the tip of his dick had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, making your body all the more weak—he liked it. he liked the fact that he had the ability to make your body entirely crumble under his touch, he savored the sensation and view of your body going limp like a sex toy while you were getting fucked good by him.
sometimes, he was so desperate to feel you flutter and clench around him that he didn’t even bother taking off his clothes, he’d just unbutton his pants and tug them down to his thighs and nothing more. “no i’m gonna soak your clothes.” you forewarned, a frown on your face. “yeah.” he hummed, a smirk playing on his lips. “i like that, sweetheart. soak my pants with your pretty cunt like a good girl. make a mess for me.”
he allowed you only a gram of freedom while riding his lap. his big hands remained attached to your hips, helping to work you up and down. occasionally, he’d give you the liberty of grinding down onto his cock all by yourself, as clumsy as you were in the cock-hungry state, so he'd, in return, hold the back of your head and give you sloppy kisses all over your face. after he feeling the tickle of your hair while it slipped through his fingers, he'd take a grip of it and pull back so gently. he knew just how to be sweet and gentle—until he’s cumming. at first, you'd feel a slight tingle across your scalp. in a matter of seconds, he'd be gripping and tugging like a feral animal, dumping all of his cum into your cunt, and you'd take all of it.
“that's my girl,” he murmured with a smile, watching you struggle to take all of him and his cum. you couldn't hold yourself back. “my good little girl.”
#thg#the hunger games#thg fanfiction#thg imagine#thg fluff#thg angst#thg smut#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games imagine#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark fanfiction#peeta mellark imagine#peeta x reader#peeta smut#peeta x reader smut#peeta mellark smut#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark fluff
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one of your girls. — coriolanus snow.
we dont gotta be in love, no. i don’t gotta be the one, no. i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.
part two published, read here.
cw: dom!coryo, p in v, Bondage, vulgar language, pain during sex, daddy kink, slight sadism(?), 18+, slight non-con, etc
words: 3048 [good, GOD], MAY be grammar errors.
tags: @euphemiaamillais my lovely lady.
“Hey, Snow.”
The blonde boy snapped his head at you, a stern look plastered to his face. You watched his eyes travel up and down your figure, his expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. He turned his body to face you and sighed.
You and Coriolanus’s relationship was unique, to say the least. You’ve known each other your entire life but dedicated your every day to one-upping each other. Your decade-long academic rivalry with him was something you found deeply annoying, and you knew if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, you would’ve killed him by now. Coriolanus found the rivalry thrilling. Watching you stress and work out to get the best grade was entertaining for him. On the days he was lucky, you would be in the library at the same time as him, searching for textbooks to grab before the other could. The number of times he caught himself peering down at your small figure, bent over, frantically digging through piles of chemistry books was criminal.
The new school year had just begun, and you were instantly bombarded with strange rumours. Rumours about Coriolanus, more specifically, his dick. He’d allegedly slept with half of the grade’s female population, including your own friends. You rebuffed them initially, that was until you overheard the said ‘girls’ discussing it, confirming it all. You were annoyed, absolutely livid at the thought of Coriolanus sleeping with them. Why did he leave you out? Was this something else he was showing you that you could never get? Whatever he was doing was working. Fucking your entire friend group but purposely dodging you was a smart move on his behalf. But you were never a loser, never second place.
So here it brought you. Standing in front of your arch nemesis with your arms crossed.
“Could I help you, gorgeous?” he purred, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re a slut, Snow. Fucking all my friends is pretty corny, don’t you think?” you remarked, running a finger down the locker beside him.
He looked at you, guilt written across his face. “I’m not a slut, little girl. And who told you that?”
“Everyone. Everyone is talking about you and your dick, Coriolanus.”
“I got busy over the holidays. Who knew Academy girls could be so desperate for my dick?” he sneered, smiling to himself.
“So why did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.
“Fuck everyone but me? Were you trying to tick me off? If so, it worked, Snow.”
He let out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Are you high? What are you trying to get at?”
“Did I stutter? You fucked every girl in my friend group but me, even though I should’ve been the first. Now, because you decided to fucking skip me, I have to hear about how freaky you are, or how big your dick is all day!” you blurted, your frustration getting by the absolute best of you as his nonchalant demeanor sent you over the edge.
“So, let me get this straight; you’re angry at me because I didn’t fuck you?” he questioned, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth.
You stuttered for a second. “Yes, yes I am.”
“We played sandbox together and here you are now, in this empty hallway, begging me to fuck you,” he said as he fixed his uniform.
“Oh, so you don’t wanna fuck me?” you purred, your arms crossed, looking up at him.
“Just to piss you off, no I don’t. Doesn’t matter how hot I think you are, or how long I’ve wanted to for this to happen. I like seeing you mad.” he smiled, knowing he had ticked you off. “I’ll see you in bio, little girl.”
He spoke as he walked away. Your eyes twitched in anger; Snow could not win. Not today.
“Fine, I’ll just ask Plinth!” your words stopped him right in his tracks.
He turned and stalked towards you, stopping only a few inches in front of you. He glared down into your eyes. “If you fuck Sejanus, I’ll kill you both and make it look like an accident.”
You scoffed. “Would you, actually? I don’t know. All I know is that I want you at my house by eleven thirty. If you’re as good as one of the girls was vouching you were, then prove it. Or I’ll get one of your friends to, just to make it even.”
“You win, I’ll see you there, doll.”
It was eleven-twenty on the dot and there was still no sign of Coriolanus. You’d pondered about the interaction from today for hours, worried you came off too demanding. You thought to yourself for a while that he was going you stand you up and purposely not come, that would’ve sent you over the edge. You sat on your bed, every negative thought running through your head. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic knocking.
You rushed downstairs and stood in front of the door. “Who is it?”
“Is that a joke?” Coriolanus spoke from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’m freezing.”
You flung the door open, Coriolanus stood there, a smile plastered to his face. He sported a worn-out shirt that was fitted, hugging his chest. He paired it with pajama pants with a red pattern and slides that looked like they should’ve never left his house. He walked right past you into your home. “You look like you’re about to go to sleep, couldn’t dress sexier?”
“I mean it’s gonna come right off, isn’t it?”
“Whatever, my room is upstairs and the first to your right.”
“Perfect.”
You watched the boy jog up the stairs and disappear behind the wall, following him shortly after.
You entered the room to him sitting on the bed, using his arms to sit up behind him. You closed the door behind you without breaking eye contact. You could physically feel the tension in the room, his entire demeanor shifting from minutes ago. You felt almost chilled.
He lifted himself from the edge of your bed and walked towards you, stopping himself only when his face was inches from yours. “Did one of the girls ever tell you what I did to them?”
You shook your head. “No, I don’t think.”
“I’ll have to show you, won't I?” he purred, his hand traveling up from your side to your chin.
“Yeah, I guess.”
His hand landed on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You gasped as his hand returned to your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stupid girl. You wanted me to treat you like your friends, right? They didn’t talk, so why should you?”
You should’ve walked away; you should’ve told him to get out. The boy who defined your entire academy life just slapped you in the face and degraded you, yet your entire body yearned for his touch. You stared into his eyes, they were glistening, wild with power and lust. His blonde hair dimly lit by the streetlight peering through your window into your dark, cold room. You needed to get even; you needed him to fuck you to get even. You needed him inside of you and in that moment, you didn’t care if it was the last thing you did that night.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.
You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Coryo.”
He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the Capitol knows how much of a dumb, little slut you are for me. Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me because I’m a slut... for you.” you proclaimed, your voice projected as he breathed against your cheek, his grip on your chin still tight.
“Pathetic, but good enough,” he replied, he released your chin and moved himself away from you slightly. “Get on the bed and strip for me, now.”
You nodded dumbly, crawling onto the bed. You lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it on the ground beside you, removing your pants and underwear right after. You sat there idly, completely bare, whilst a clothed Coriolanus stood in front of you, fucking you with his gaze. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, admiring you.
He raised a hand and began to caress your cheek; you instinctively nuzzled your face into his palm causing him to softly laugh. “The smartest and prettiest girl in the academy, sitting naked waiting for me to fuck her like a good girl.”
He looked down on you, you were naked and nuzzling your face into his palm, inaudibly begging him to fuck you. You were desperate and it turned him on so much. The most stubborn girl he fawned over for years now naked and begging him to fuck her. He could feel his dick trying to break free from his pants just from the sight of you.
He walked away and disappeared into your open closet, leaving you clueless. He walked out with a ribbon in his hand.
“That’s my grandma's, Coryo. That’s the ribbon she gifted me. What do you need it for?” you questioned, puzzled.
“Put your back against your bed frame and stop asking me stupid questions. Sluts with dirty mouths like you, my dear, don’t get to talk.”
You followed his command and shuffled up until your bare back was against the headboard, waiting patiently for his next command. You were the smartest girl at your academy yet there you were, brainlessly waiting for Snow to tell you what to do.
He climbed onto the bed and motioned for your hand. “Give me your hands, doll.”
You timidly raised your hand towards him. He grabbed your wrist and began to firmly tie the piece of ribbon around them, causing you to wince slightly. The thin material pressed against your skin as you looked at him, hopeless. There he had you. Your wrists tied, naked. Your knees spread exposing you.
He took his time once again, admiring your small, fragile frame. “You look so gorgeous, let daddy see what’s between your legs better, okay?”
You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to the boy. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. He used his hands to turn you over on your knees, your hands still restrained, using your elbows for support.
“How many times did you speak to that bitch this week?” he inquired from behind you.
“Who? Sejanus? … Maybe three or four times, I’m not too sure–”
“Too many times. Way too many fucking times.”
You felt a hard hand land against your cheek, your back curled in pain as you threw your head between your hands. It was followed by another, causing you to cry out in pain. He slapped your ass again, and then once more. Painful groans escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain.
“Four slaps for four conversations. Turn over and spread your legs a bit more for me, okay?”
You dumbly followed, still wincing in pain. You turned yourself onto your back and spread your legs as far as you could, quivering and vulnerable. Coriolanus watched, entranced by your naked body. You looked at the boy, gawking at you. His hand grabbed your tied wrists and lifted them above your head. The boy then moved his head between your knees, planting a kiss on your knee, then on your inner thigh. He peered up at you, your pussy throbbing and yearning for his touch.
“Please, I can’t take it. Touch me,” you begged, your voice timid, scared of the boy between your thighs.
“Say please.”
“Please, please?”
“Good girl.” he purred, lowering his head further, you felt his nose graze your pubic bone.
His lips planted a kiss, then moved down to your folds. A moan instantly escaped your lips, your body churning at the feeling of his lips on your moist folds. Your back arched. You felt his lips move against your core, lapping at your folds. He used his tongue to press against your clit, making you cry out and heave. His arm traveled up to your breast, massaging it as his tongue lapped at your pussy. His nose pressing against you. You squirmed as he used his mouth to suck your clit, sending your eyes to the back of your head. The sensations overstimulate you, leaving you hopeless. You didn’t dare bring your arms down, knowing he wouldn’t react well.
He lifted his head from your heat for a second and peered up at you. “You taste so good, let me show you.”
He raised himself and lowered his lips onto yours. Forcing your mouth open with his, his tongue invading your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, completely dumbfounded by the boy.
“Now, open your mouth,” he said, gripping onto your chin.
You dumbly followed, letting him spit into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation.
“Good, you did one thing right,” he remarked, unbuttoning his pants, holding eye contact with you from above.
He swiftly removed his pants, followed by his shirt. His body was leaner than you’d expected, his muscular frame surprising you. He hauled himself off the bed and lowered his brief, freeing his throbbing penis. You let out a small gasp. He motioned for you to come towards him, you crawled, wrists still tied, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. His penis right across from your face. He stared down at you.
“Look what you did to me, fix it up. Now,” he demanded.
You nodded your head as you leaned to lick his penis. You use your lips to latch onto his tip, sucking on it as you let your tongue massage it. He groaned from above you, eyes closed. Your head moving slowly to and from, his dick still in your mouth. Your tongue glided back and forth as you pleasured the boy. He threw his head back as you did everything you could to his dick with your mouth alone, you spat on it frantically as you took his cock deeper into your throat. Gagging on his dick and pushing yourself past your limit.
“Go fucking deeper, you dumb fucking slut. Treat it like you would treat some other guys. Whore.” he demanded, his hand latching onto a chunk of your hair.
He pushed himself further down your throat, tears rolling down your eyes in return. He pumped your throat like it was your pussy, you gagged on his cock uncontrollably. Your wrists were tied in front of you, helpless as he fucked your throat. He pulled your head back with the chunk of hair. You gasped for a breath of air frantically, tears rolling down your eyes. His open palm landed against your cheek again, causing you to gasp in pain.
“When I tell you to go deeper, I mean it, slut. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” he scoffed, looking down at your frail frame. “You spent years trying to get under my fucking skin, now I’m on yours, and you don’t know how to act? Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.” you whimpered, sniffling as he shot you a smile.
“There you go, pretty girl. Turn over for me now.”
You nodded dumbly, turning around on the edge of the bed. You used your elbows for support as you perked your backside up. The boy stared at you hungrily. You felt a slap land on your cheek again, causing you to flinch in pain.
“You wanna feel me?”
He watched your head bop and down in response. Within no time he prepped himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You groaned into the mattress, feeling his large cock stretch your pussy.
“Little Miss Capitol is tight, isn’t she?” he sneered.
He slowly pushed himself in, then out. You groaned as his pace picked up excruciatingly slow, every thrust filling you up. His dick stretched your walls, every bit of your pussy was filled with his cock. He gripped your hip and leaned forward, using his free hand to push your wrists further from you.
His pace quickened. His cock slung in and out of you, moaning as he slapped your ass. You didn’t flinch, distracted by the feeling of his cock. Your moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, hitting a spot within you that hadn’t known of until now. Your body quivered as you felt the boy fuck you with all his strength.
You felt his arm wrap around your throat, pulling you up and restraining your breathing. You gasped, his pace not slowing. You felt his chest against your back as he thrusts into you mercilessly. His free hand slithers to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You felt your muscles wear as he continued to push into you, overstimulated beyond comprehension.
Your stomach tightened as you came, and you shrieked. Your entire body loses its balance, flailing forward on your chest. Coriolanus didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you, your body limp in front of him. You moaned into the mattress as he fucked you whilst his hand circulated your clit.
“I came, Coriolanus, I came!”
“I know, shut up.”
He ignored your words. Your body tightened again, this time your juices threatened to squirt out. You fought every bone in your body to not let it out. His finger still rubbing your clit as he pushed into you.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. I can’t, it hurts!”
“Yes, you can, you can.” He breathed from behind you.
You cried out, shamefully squirting on your bedsheets. The boy pulled his cock out and frantically massaged it until his semen shot on your back. He heaved from behind you.
“Now, you are just like the rest of the girls. I’ll see you on Monday, doll.”
—
pt2 published…. read here.
#coriolanus snow#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#ballads of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#smut#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow smut#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth#tbosas#snow#coriolanus x you#peeta x reader#coriolanus x oc#coriolanus fanfiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#Lucy gray#coriolanus x sejanus
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HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!
Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)
And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣
Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x
hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes
cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything
You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.
When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.
During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.
But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.
When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.
You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.
You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.
Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.
He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.
He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.
He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.
He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.
During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.
Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.
The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.
You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.
You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.
Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.
You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.
When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.
--
When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."
The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."
Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.
You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.
The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.
As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.
You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.
Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.
"I have a plan."
"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."
Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."
You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."
Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.
"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."
--
It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.
You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.
Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.
You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?
You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.
You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?
"Hello, Y/N."
You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.
He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."
You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.
"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."
You shook your head. "No."
He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"
"No." You said again, louder.
He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."
He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.
If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.
They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.
"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."
You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.
"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"
Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.
Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.
You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.
It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.
You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.
But you knew that was just the beginning.
--
You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.
"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.
A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.
"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."
You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.
He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.
As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.
That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."
You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.
--
There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.
"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.
"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.
"Are you.. Are you really here?"
"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.
His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."
You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.
Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.
Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.
You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.
When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.
You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.
"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."
#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair#thg finnick x reader#thg finnick#finnick x reader#finnick x y/n#hunger games finnick#finnick odair angst#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x female reader#thg headcanons#thg johanna#thg fanfic#thg fanfiction#thg rp#thg peeta#thg: intro#thg katniss#thg x reader#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#catching fire#mockingjay#katniss x peeta#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games haymitch#the hunger games katniss
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peeta mellark !!!! who loves all your insecurities likes it’s breathing <3 and who worships the ground you walk on because you’re his sun!!
peeta who loves your stretch marks even if you don’t. he’ll run his hands over the soft ridges, up and down, over and over. he’ll kiss the ones on your hips when he’s feeling lovesick (which is always) and he likes how you shudder under his mouth, say his name all breathless while you bury your hands in his hair.
peeta who doesn’t care if you don’t shave, it couldn’t bother him less. and if you do want smooth skin, he’ll offer to do it for you, claiming, “I’m an expert, sweetheart. c’mon, can I please?” you never say no, you can’t. he’s unbelievably careful and kisses your knees when he’s done.
peeta who loves your tummy and your thighs!! he’s always got a big warm hand on your thigh, or one under your shirt, kneading your stomach. they’re kind of his favourite parts of you. the parts he can squeeze all his love into. his favourite thing ever is when you wear a big t-shirt to bed so he has easy access to your thighs and tummy <3 better if it’s his t-shirt, of course.
peeta who braids your hair back for you before you sleep, no matter how tired he is. you sit on a cushion on the floor while he sits on the bed, fingers gentle as they card through your hair. sometimes you’ll fall asleep against his knee. he never has the heart to wake you up, so he lifts you into bed himself. you wake for a handful of seconds, enough to murmur a sweet, “thank you, pete.” he kisses your forehead, his way of saying you’re welcome.
peeta who takes your face in his hands when you cry, endlessly gentle. he swipes at your hot tears with his thumbs and curls his fingers behind your ears. “did you know you’re pretty even when you cry?” he’ll say. “how do you do that, hm?”
peeta whose love is hot like stars and infinite. he’ll go to the moon and back for you and he’s not afraid to let you know that <333
#★ mal writes!#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x fem!reader#peeta mellark blurb#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark x reader fluff#peeta mellark oneshot#peeta mellark drabble#peeta mellark imagine#peeta mellark fic#peeta mellark fanfiction#peeta mellark fanfic#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark x y/n#thg#thg series#thg x you#thg x reader#thg x y/n#thg fanfiction#thg peeta#thg peeta x reader#thg peeta x you#thg peeta x y/n#hunger games#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x y/n
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good boy ⭒
reader x peeta mellark smut
a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗
contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding
MATURE 18+
Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.
This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.
If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.
At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.
But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.
There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.
He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.
“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.
“Say that again.” He whimpered.
“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.
“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.
“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”
Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.
“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.
His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”
I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”
I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.
“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”
I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.
“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”
His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.
“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
There was silence for a few moments before he realized.
He sprung into apology immediately.
“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“
I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.
“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“
“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”
I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.
“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”
He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.
“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”
My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.
“Now say it to me.” I ordered.
“You’re so beauti-“
I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”
His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.
I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”
He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.
“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”
He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”
He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.
He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.
“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”
He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”
#the hunger games#peeta mellark#peeta mellark smut#praise#bakery au#fanfiction#smut#josh hutcherson#peeta mellark x reader#peeta x reader
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I am a simple woman.
Give me a good Peeta POV and I will melt at the fucking KNEES for you.
Like, I love a good Katniss POV. But I already know that she's feral and sick for Peeta.
What I NEED to know, more than BREATH, is just how unhinged Peeta is for Katniss.
While she's cataloging his eyelashes by Dewey Decimal System, he's using MLA format to cite his thoughts on each strand of her braid.
SICK
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Our Song and Dance¹
Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader
Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end.
Warnings: super-duper-duper long, exploitation of minors, forced prostitution, unrequited love, complicated relationships, violence, death, mental health issues, canadian spelling lol, and i make up some names (lmk if i missed smth)
Words: 19.7K
Masterlist | Part 2
a/n: i alr have this finished, but it was way too long to post in one part (as you can see) so i split it up into three parts. this one goes from pre-hunger games to right before the quell. had this idea in my head as soon as i finished thg, so i hope u enjoy!
Y/N Y/L/N, victor of the 67th Hunger Games. You were from district 4, one of the youngest victors that not only your district has ever had, but also all of Panem. Of course, you weren’t the youngest; that title belonged to none other than Finnick Odair.
A man you hated with a passion and, frankly, a man who didn’t like you very much either.
You could still remember the night you met.
Snow was droning on and on, giving a speech about something you couldn’t care less about. It was all lies, anyway, and you were only gonna end up in some rich man’s bed tonight, so you’d prefer to go through that interaction as drunk as you could be. With that thought, you downed the rest of your flute.
“Ah, careful, Princess.” Before you even saw the person, you knew it was him. His voice was so easily recognizable, even though you had never met, not even after living in the same district, then the Victors’ Village, or even at these little Capitol parties.
Finnick.
You turned, a faux smile on your face that he fully reciprocated. “Snow wouldn’t want the Capitol’s pride and joy to be under the influence,” he said, teasing but with an undertone that put you off.
You didn’t give a damn what Snow thought, but you weren’t gonna say that, especially not in his own home. Instead, you gave him the smile you gave the rest of Panem and directed the topic of conversation away from the President. “I won my Games, Finnick. Trust me, I’m not a lightweight.” Oh, but you wish you were. You wish you could get so drunk that you’d forget who you were entirely.
A part of you felt bad: twenty-three other people died while you walked out of the arena, and yet you wanted nothing more than for your life to end. A part of you wondered if the great Finnick Odair ever felt this way, either, but it wouldn’t be good small talk to ask.
Finnick’s grin only widened. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”
Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”
He started to walk away, but he suddenly paused like he forgot something, leaning closer to you. Your breath got caught in your throat when you felt his on your neck. Your eyes locked, and all of a sudden, you wondered how it was possible that you never noticed how beautiful his eyes were.
“May the odds be ever in your favour, darling,” he whispered, and then he walked away without giving you another glance.
That night, Finnick didn’t leave your mind. It wasn’t until there was a resident of the Capitol lying on top of you that you stopped thinking about him. When you were in that position, you stopped thinking about everything, really.
When you walked out of your hotel room, done with your little job, Finnick was brought back to the forefront of your mind as your eyes met his. He looked like he was in the same state as you, also having been leaving a room. He looked surprised to see you.
You stared at him for a moment, but then you let yourself disappear down the hallway before he could say anything.
You knew what that meant; you knew it wasn’t his own room that he was leaving. When you got to your own room, you realized you were much more alike than you thought. You supposed that you couldn’t be surprised; Finnick was desirable, so of course Snow would put him up for sale.
You were in the exact same boat.
Since that night, you saw him in a different light.
You two didn’t talk when you got back home, no, but at your next Capitol event, you decided that you’d refuse to leave him alone, to leave someone who was going through the same thing as you to their own devices. That’s what you told yourself, but deep down, you just didn’t want to suffer in silence, either.
So you went and found him after a night with another Capitol pig. Standing outside, hands in his pockets, he looked so calm, but you saw a storm brewing in his eyes that only few could ever decipher.
You went and stood next to him, even though it was freezing cold out. He glanced over at you, and then his face became surprised, not surprise at you being there, but at you being there with him. Neither of you said anything; it was either that you were too afraid of a jabberjay overhearing or of yourselves. You just stood there in a comfortable silence.
You’d learn that, with Finnick, sometimes doing nothing could mean everything.
The two of you went on to do this every time you were there until, slowly, you graduated from just silence to holding each other. Oh, Finnick Odair was a cocky asshole, but when you were in the Capitol, he wasn’t him and you weren’t you. You were just two people that needed comfort, and that was enough.
You still didn’t talk, though, and when you were at home, you didn’t communicate at all. That was why you were surprised when you answered your door to see him standing on the other side.
Finnick went back to being Finnick, striding into your home without so much as an invitation. This caused you to roll your eyes, but they suddenly widened at his words. “Caesar Flickerman is on TV, saying that we’re dating.”
If you were drinking something, you would’ve spit it out. “What?” An incredulous look was painted onto your face.
Finnick, on the other hand, was a little more stoic, not exactly the charmer he was on television or in Capitol balls, but you could easily guess why—and if you hadn’t, then he was gonna tell you, anyways. “You know what this means.” He looked you in the eye, jaw clenched. “Two of Snow’s best—the Prince and Princess of Panem—dating? It’s the last thing he wants.”
“Finnick-”
“No, he won’t be able to sell us if we’re together, and if he can’t sell us, then he’ll start killing the people we love.” This was the first time either of you were even acknowledging the situation you were in.
You felt stung for some reason, even though you didn’t love Finnick—and he didn’t love you. But, deep down, no matter how much you tried to repress it, you knew there was something between you, so hearing him speak to you this way, like you were just nothing, hurt.
However, you got over your feelings quickly, the same way you always had. You moved your thoughts away from your heart and started thinking with your head. You were quiet for a second until you let out a soft gasp, like a light bulb went off in your head.
This time, you made eye contact with Finnick effortlessly. “What if this is exactly what we need?” You asked, a glint in your eye that he hadn’t seen before.
The blond scoffed. “I don’t see how our families dying is exactly what we need, Y/N.”
“No- no, Finnick, you already said it.” You grabbed onto his shoulders. “The Capitol- hell, everyone already thinks we’re the Prince and Princess of Panem. If we give them what they want, then- then we’d be unstoppable.” You paused to let him weigh in, but he only stared heavily at you, not a trace of what he was thinking on display, so you continued, “Snow and all of those Capitol motherfuckers will eat this shit up, Finnick. And then we’ll be free.”
You were trying not to show any emotion, either, but you couldn’t help it. At the mere thought of freedom, something you never thought was possible, you felt so many different things at once. While you were holding your feelings on your sleeve, Finnick was less easy to read.
But, in seconds, you knew exactly how he felt.
“We will never be free, Y/N.”
He walked out after that, leaving you alone in your living room. He’d never know it, but you stayed in that same spot for three hours, staring at where he once stood. His words had awakened something in you, the part of yourself that’d been thrown into the Hunger Games at only fifteen-years-old.
At the time, you thought you were going to die. You were hopeless, but after you won, you realized there was hope after all. You could still make it. Even as Snow allowed your body to be violated, your mind to deteriorate, you still had hope. But Finnick’s words brought back that frightened little girl in you that you thought died.
You’d later realize just how lucky you were that he buried her again. He came back and told you that he’d do it, and as easily as he brought that little girl back to life, he drowned her.
It wasn’t easy at first, pretending to be in love. You didn’t know the first thing about it, but Finnick helped you as if he’d been doing it all his life.
“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”
“No, it’s not gonna be fine. Caesar’s gonna call us out immediately- and if he doesn’t, then Snow will-”
“Y/N.” Finnick cut off your nervous ramblings with a stern calling of your name. Even him saying your name was still weird to you. You weren’t used to so much conversation with the victor, but now you were gonna have to pretend to love him. “We’re gonna be fine.”
You weren’t convinced, and he saw that with the twitching of your fingers. You knew Finnick was a great actor, and normally you were, too, but this situation was unlike any other that you’d ever been in. It was foreign territory for you.
“Look,” he grabbed onto your hand, “whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.”
If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your heart skipped a beat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say you felt a spark when his skin met yours.
For a second, you pretended that you weren’t pretending. You pretended that you were holding hands because you were two kids in love, not because you had to survive. You pretended you were never in The Games, that you never killed so ruthlessly just to live without truly living. You pretended that you weren’t you, and Finnick wasn’t Finnick, and you were holding hands just because, not because you were about to go on TV and lie.
But that second ended far too quickly as you pulled your hand out of his grasp, nodding. “Okay,” you took a deep breath, repeating his words to yourself, “we’re gonna be okay.”
“Of course, we are. Now tell me again how we met.”
When the time came for the actual interview, you never let Finnick’s hand go.
The experience became more familiar to you as you went on. It was the same as any other show you’d put on for the Capitol. When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller.
Now, you told stories of a life of yours that’d never existed.
Finnick and you were thrusted into the public eye, reciting the same stories day after day. It almost felt like it was actually real, and sometimes, you wished it was.
He’d look at you with a look of love in his eyes in front of all of the cameras, touching you tenderly. Oh, he was a wonderful liar. He even made you believe it for a second, too. But you knew that no such thing would ever happen.
Finnick Odair would never fall for a girl like you. Even if you were slowly falling for him.
During nights alone, you’d marvel at the turn of events. Finnick was once a man that you hated, but now look at you. You didn’t even know if you were faking it anymore. But it is fake, you’d remind yourself. He doesn’t love you, and you won’t love him.
You weren’t gonna let yourself love him. Truth be told, you were never gonna let yourself love anybody in the first place. Loving someone only made a new liability, a new weakness for the Capitol to exploit, but you could not love Finnick.
You’d been through a lot; your heart had taken many blows and survived, but you knew loving Finnick would only one day break it into a million little pieces. Still, it’s not like he made it easy.
You were lying in your bed- your shared bed with Finnick. Since announcing that you were dating, you moved in with him. You both decided it’d be easier to hide it all that way, easier for the public to believe, too. Sharing a bed was his idea—“just in case,” he’d said.
You wanted to object, but what would you even tell him? That you were afraid of falling in love with him? You would never even put the mere idea into his head. So you went along with it.
It was funny, though: you never went to bed alone, but that’s still how it felt. Being next to him, under the covers… it didn’t make you as warm as you hoped it would.
He didn’t live with anyone else. From what you gathered, Mags, your shared mentor, was his only family. His parents died of sickness early on; Mags took him in and kept him alive, all the way up until he was sent to The Games. Finnick didn’t get sappy with you often, but you knew that he couldn’t lose her.
What he was doing for Snow, he was doing for Mags. You thought Mags was the only person he cared about, but you learned that this wasn’t true. There was one other person who he was close to, who he’d do anything to keep safe. That person was Annie Cresta.
You met her once. She was beautiful and sweet, so you understood immediately why Finnick was in love with her. He never talked to you about her, but you could tell just from how he looked at her that she was the light of his life, even if she herself wasn’t aware of that.
Annie was good, the perfect girl for Finnick. She didn’t come with all the baggage you had, she wasn’t as rude, and she always knew what to say. You would’ve wanted them together, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Finnick was becoming your Annie. He was becoming your person, and so it killed you to know that not only was he in love with another girl, but he was also unhappy.
He’d never be happy with you. While you wished you could spare him the torment and just let him be with her, you had people you cared about, too, and he was now also on that list. So your job was to keep you all alive, not happy.
The door to your bedroom opened, interrupting your train of thought. You faced away from the entrance, but you knew it was Finnick. He had perfected soundless footsteps, even though you weren’t in an arena anymore. But you supposed you were still fighting for your lives, anyway.
He climbed into bed, letting out a big exhale when his back hit the mattress. You didn’t greet him, nor did he greet you, even though he knew you were awake. You’d gone through this whole song and dance already. You had to pretend in front of the cameras; you weren’t gonna do that in here, too.
The two of you were silent. This wasn’t a silence like before when you stood together in the Capitol after those horrible nights. This was a silence that was suffocating.
Things were never the same after you decided to go through with this charade. Maybe you were almost friends before, but now you were allies at most, just there to help the other survive. Oh, you wished you could be friends, but life was never so kind.
As if he could hear you begging for companionship, he whispered, “Y/N?”
Your breath hitched. “Yes?”
There was a beat of silence before his response. You wondered what his face looked like, but you wouldn’t dare turn around. “Can we- can we just be together tonight?”
Out of all the things he could’ve said, that didn’t even make your list. You sharply inhaled. Finnick didn’t sound like Finnick at all. He sounded small, and vulnerable, and scared, all states that he’d never let you see him in. But he was.
“What do you mean?” You didn’t turn around. “We are together.”
So unlike Finnick, he stammered, “No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.”
If this were the dance you compared it to in your head, then you’d be stumbling over your own feet. He’d never asked about anything like that before. In fact, Finnick never even seemed to like you or this predicament much. Sure, you interested him, and maybe you were friends, but you knew that if he could’ve pick anyone else to dance this dance with, he would’ve.
You wondered what brought him to this point. Maybe it had something to do with Annie, but at that moment, you couldn’t bother thinking about it. He’d never know it, but you could never say no to him.
So you turned around and let him wrap his arm around you. But little did he know, you obliged not just to comfort him, but also yourself.
You’d fall asleep in Finnick’s arms every night after that.
You’d always been so independent, so alone, that you forgot what it felt like to lean on someone, even if it was just for a little while in the dead of night. But when Finnick held you, sleep came easier and nightmares came less.
He had no idea that he became your knight in shining armour; he never meant to, but he did. Soon after you started “dating,” Snow left you alone. You still attended Capitol parties, still mentored kids every year, but you no longer found yourself in bed with members of Snow’s cabinet, and neither did Finnick.
It was easier once it stopped, but you still had to grapple with the pain of what had already happened to you; all of this didn’t even take into account The Games. Sure, you were done, but you still had to come back once a year and prepare a kid to kill or be killed. Nothing dredged up old memories like that did.
Doing it with him was what got you through it. When you lost a kid, Finnick was there to hold you and reassure you and himself that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have done much more to stop it. At times like those especially, you had to reel yourself in and remind yourself that, yes, he cared for you, but he wasn’t in love with you.
There were times that every bone in your body told you the exact opposite, that Finnick’s actions told you the exact opposite. Sometimes, he’d kiss you for the cameras and made you fall for it, too.
God, you were a team, such a great team. Would it be so horrible of you to assume you could be more?
You’d later realize that, yes, it was.
Because at the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta’s name was called and your little fantasy of a relationship with Finnick was shattered to pieces.
His usually calm demeanour was broken as he ran toward her as soon as you both got on the train, engulfing her in a hug and soothing her while she sobbed. You just watched from the sidelines, a frown on your face. You wished you were frowning because your dear friend Annie was just chosen to be in a fight to the death, but you were frowning because Finnick had never hugged you like that.
There were no cameras here; this wasn’t for show. He never looked at you like that when there weren’t any cameras around.
You felt like you were intruding on a private moment, even though you were just standing there, even though you were supposed to be his girlfriend, not Annie. A girlfriend would’ve probably cleared her throat, interrupted the interaction, but you couldn’t find the courage to do that.
Instead, you waited for the moment to end and walked over to her yourself when Finnick stepped away, giving her a tight hug as if she hadn’t just brought you to the brink of tears. But that didn’t matter. Annie could possibly die, so your little feelings for Finnick were pretty insignificant at the moment.
You tossed those very feelings to the side, directing all your attention to preparing your tribute. Finnick was trying to explain everything, but he was too worried, so you took over for him, pushing forth all your efforts while he focused on the boy that’d been reaped from your district.
You always tried your best with the tributes, always, but this wasn’t just any tribute. This was Annie Cresta, your friend and the love of Finnick’s life. You needed her to make it out of this alive—Finnick wouldn’t survive without her.
You gave her every piece of advice you could think of during that trip, digging through your memory for things you might’ve even forgotten. You wished you could help the boy in the same way, but there could only be one victor in these Games, and it had to be her.
Remember that these are games, Annie. Don’t worry about the killing once you’re in the arena; you need to treat it like a game, like the other tributes are just pieces that need to be knocked off the board, you told her. You hated every word that came out of your mouth, but she needed to hear it. She needed to overcome the shock now so she didn’t get choked up during the actual Games like you did.
When the time finally came for you to send the tributes off into the arena, you hugged yourself, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. You imagined that it was Finnick’s arms that were around you, but you weren’t gonna ask him to comfort you. He was the one that needed comforting, but you knew he wouldn’t accept it, so you didn’t offer.
Instead, you worked your ass off to get Annie sponsors, to get people to like her as if they didn’t already. You didn’t sleep for days, and neither did Finnick until he accidentally fell asleep for a few hours one day.
You both watched as she took the tips you’d given her, using them in her own way. She was small, but she was smart and she picked up on how to play the game quickly.
Only when the last tribute was dead did a sigh of relief finally leave you. Your shoulders slumped as you sat in front of the TV. Finnick’s muttering fell upon deaf ears as static filled your brain. She made it, you thought. She’s okay.
But that didn’t make life any more okay.
After all, nobody ever really won The Games.
“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-”
“No, it’s not!” You heard something break, like it had thrown it to the ground. When you walked further into your house, your guess was proven right. Finnick and Annie stood in your living room, the former worried and the latter frantic, pieces of a broken vase all over the ground.
“Nothing is okay, Finn! Nothing! Do you hear me- nothing is okay!” The redhead was pacing around with your so called boyfriend trying to stop and calm her down. They were both so panicked that neither of them noticed you, and you didn’t announce your presence, either.
You only stood from the side, just like on that Capitol train. The Annie that went into that arena was innocent. She was eighteen, but she was still more of a child than either of you ever got the chance to be. Now that she won, she didn’t look so innocent anymore.
She wore a look that was so familiar to you. She was alive, but Annie had never looked more like a ghost of herself.
“Annie, please-” Finnick’s voice cracked mid-sentence. He kept trying to get close to her, but she moved away every time. The tears in his eyes made yours watery, too. You had never seen him look so broken, not even as you stood in the Capitol together those cold nights after being used.
If you weren’t sure of how much Finnick loved Annie, you were now.
“No, no, nothing is okay!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face. She suddenly stopped, letting out a sob before collapsing onto the ground. Finnick ran to her right away, pulling her close and rocking her as she repeated the same thing over and over.
You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until you felt the tear falling onto your cheek, wiping at it immediately and turning around to walk away as quietly as you possibly could. You weren’t gonna just stand by and do nothing while Annie fell apart and Finnick cut himself trying to put the pieces back together. You couldn’t.
You found yourself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to distract yourself. Your eyes zeroed in on it as you tried to block out the sound of Annie’s crying, trying not to cry yourself. At one point, you succeeded, because you couldn’t hear anything anymore.
You don’t know how long you stood there, but you were eventually broken out of your trance by a hand reaching out in front of you to turn off the stove, moving the kettle. It was only now that you realized how loudly it was whistling.
You turned to see the hand belonged to Finnick who now poured the hot water into your expensive tea cups. They were a gift given to you by a patron of the Capitol, an old man with kids and a wife. He was somewhat of a regular of yours, and so he gave you that tea set to try and make himself feel better for what he was doing, along with many other gifts.
You never told Finnick any of this. You wondered if he would so readily pull them out if he knew where they came from.
He wordlessly put the tea bags into the cups, sliding one over on the island to where you stood. Then he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip of the scalding liquid like it was nothing. You ignored your disbelief and the rational part of your brain, picking the cup to do the same thing.
When the tea met your tongue, it burned, even as it went down your throat, but you still went back in for a second sip, anyway. This pain was able to distract you from all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, and so that made it feel like it was worth it. You wondered if this was Finnick’s logic, too.
You didn’t say anything for a long while, didn’t ask about Annie or where she went. You knew he must’ve known that you heard what happened, but he didn’t mention it, either. You assumed that she fell asleep.
You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.
Your song kept playing as you both danced around the same topics, standing together silently as your world crumbled. You danced, and danced, and danced, until your tea cups were empty, but the song was still playing.
Finnick’s voice cut through the silence of your music effortlessly, even though he was still so quiet.
“Sometimes, I think she would’ve been better off if she died.” You slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, but they were aimed at the cup in his hand. He looked nothing like the Prince of Panem, the charming man who always had something witty to say. No, he looked beaten down, just as lifeless as Annie. Maybe you looked as lifeless as you felt, too; maybe you were all so unaware of how broken you seemed.
You didn’t know what to say to his confession. So you didn’t say anything at all.
You’d never know where that conversation would’ve went, because in seconds, Finnick collected your cups, put them in the sink, and then he left you standing there.
His words from before echoed through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.
And maybe he was right.
Annie was back home, but she never really came back from that arena—none of you did. Hell, you were thrusted into a life you never wanted, a victor’s life, as soon as you were out. You thanked God that Annie wasn’t gonna have to go through what you did; the way she was spinning out made her undesirable. At least a good thing came out of her losing it.
Oh, you were starting to find a silver-lining with everything. You had to—otherwise, you’d lose it, just like Annie. You had to find some sort of good in this situation because, otherwise, what was the point?
Time supposedly healed all wounds, but you felt like you were still bleeding. You just learned to conceal it better than others.
Before The Games, you had friends. Now you really only talked to Finnick, and you two didn’t talk much, either. Every now and then, you’d see Annie and Mags, but they weren’t your people. And your family… well, how close could you be with them after what happened? You weren’t the same girl your mother raised.
She could barely even look at you anymore.
But you couldn’t think about any of this. If you did, you’d fall apart, and you couldn’t do that. You had a role to play, an image to protect—for your safety, for your family’s safety, for his safety.
You couldn’t afford to break down like that in your living room and throw things. You wanted to, so badly, but you didn’t have that luxury.
So your song kept playing, and you danced along with it.
Finnick’s walls went back up, too. His charisma was like a light bulb that briefly flickered, but it was back now. He was dancing, too. But, without even realizing it, you both held each other tighter at night, as if you were trying not to lose the other to the tornado that was your life.
However, when you woke up, you both pretended the tornado didn’t even exist.
Annie wasn’t one for pretending. Oh, she got wrapped up into the tornado the second she was declared a victor and there was no saving her anymore. Yes, she would’ve been better off dead, maybe you all would’ve been, but if you thought about this for too long, if you let the song stop, then you’d get caught in the cyclone, too.
You pretended for a year, attending Capitol galas with a smile on your face, getting interviewed right next to Finnick with his hand in yours, acting like you were the picture perfect couple. He spoke about you like he knew you like the back of his hand, but truth be told, he didn’t know you at all; he barely ever tried to. You didn’t blame him, though; it was hard to try to talk to someone when the music was so loud.
Then came the 71st Hunger Games, and you were mentors again. Meeting the tributes, it was almost like the music stopped- almost. The girl was quiet but angry, and she reminded you so much of yourself. The boy kept cracking jokes that she didn’t laugh at, jokes that were probably inappropriate for a time like this, but you knew he wasn’t doing it to be an ass. This was his way of coping.
He reminded you of Finnick.
Looking at these kids was like looking into a mirror. On the last day of training, he finally got a reaction out of her, made her smile with a faint blush on her cheeks. Oh, these kids should’ve been laughing together in the diner back home, not on their way to die.
They were too young and too innocent. It makes you wonder if things would’ve been different if you and Finnick had met before The Games. Would that have made soothed the heartbreak?
You didn’t know. But when you saw that boy crying as he held her in that arena, blood pouring onto him from her stab-wound, you knew that heartbreak was what he felt.
Too young. They were too young.
The boy died too. He didn’t even put up a fight.
These kids were just kids, and they died young.
Just like you and Finnick did.
You sat in your room at the Capitol, swirling your scotch around in your glass. It was a crystal glass so beautiful you knew it could’ve only been crafted by hand, but you didn’t want to admire it; you wanted to throw it at the wall.
Their names were Delta and Aalto. Aalto was the more talkative one; he said he dreamed of opening his own bakery one day, right in the middle of the district with food that everyone could afford and enjoy.
He’d never get to do that now.
And Delta- she didn’t know what she wanted out of life yet. She never got the chance to figure it out.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
The door to the room opened, making you look up from the liquor in your hand to see Finnick walking into the room. He looked defeated. Of course, he was better at hiding it than you were, but you knew how to read him better now, after all these years.
The bed dipped as he sat down next to you. You held your glass out, almost like a peace offering, and he took it without much thought, downing it in one go.
You sat there together the same way you had many times before, not saying a word. But this time felt different. It felt like there was something you were supposed to say. So you turned to look at Finnick, trying to see if he felt the same weight, only to see that he was already looking at you.
You could tell just by his eyes that he felt it, too. He opened his mouth, then closed it like he’d lost his train of thought. When you met him, you never thought you’d see the day when Finnick was speechless.
Look at how wrong you were.
You opened your mouth after a few seconds, wanting to articulate your feelings in some way, but Finnick’s lips slammed against yours before you get anything out. Without thinking, you kissed back; it felt like second-nature to you.
This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but he had never kissed you like this, so passionately, not a camera in sight. He was kissing you like you were air and he’d been holding his breath for so long, like you were the treasure he’d been searching for and he didn’t want to let go.
It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.
When you eventually pulled away for air and opened your eyes, you were brought back to the real world. There was something you were supposed to say. But you quickly disregarded it, pulling him back in for another kiss before he could notice the way you were looking at him.
Yes, there was something you were supposed to say. But you couldn’t put it into words.
So you hoped that this kiss said everything that you couldn’t.
You were both grieving, and you were both there. And you knew that Finnick didn’t like you like that, so you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. This meant nothing, even if it felt like everything for you when it was happening.
He was the only person you’d ever done anything like this with before. You did things with those people Snow set you up with, but that didn’t count. You were doing this because you wanted to. You didn’t know if this was his first time or not, but you weren’t gonna ask. You did everything but talk for the rest of the night.
When you woke up, it was still dark out and Finnick was still asleep. You stared at him for a few seconds, his fluffy blond hair that you messed up, his swollen lips. He looked so peaceful like this; you couldn’t bear to wake him up and ruin that, bring him back to this nightmare.
So you got up as quietly as you could, wrapping yourself in a robe and closing the door to the bedroom, walking into the living room. The rooms the Capitol provided the victors were beautiful, but never beautiful enough to make you forget about the ugly reason that you were here.
You sat on the couch, exhaling and leaning back. You were gonna sit there in silence, but your song kept playing, and the record was skipping, and you were starting to get a headache, so you turned on the TV.
Without having to change the channel at all, you were immediately met with the news, Caesar Flickerman’s face on the flat screen. It wasn’t long before you realized why he was so excited: the Hunger Games were over. Someone won.
Caesar’s attitude made your mood go sour. He was behaving like twenty-three children weren’t just killed. It didn’t matter if they died of starvation, dehydration, an animal, or actually another tribute—it was all murder, and the Capitol was the perpetrator. It disgusted you that there were people who found enjoyment in watching these Games, Caesar Flickerman included. They’d pretend to be sympathetic, but at the end of the day, you were all just circus animals to them.
The victor’s face came onto the TV, and you immediately recognized her from the rankings. Johanna Mason. Caesar kept talking, explaining how Johanna had managed to cause so many people to be enamoured of her, and you suddenly felt sick.
Snow was gonna jump at this opportunity. He was gonna use her, too.
You turned off the TV, going back to your room and getting back into bed like you’d never left. Your song came back on, and you went back to preferring to listen to it instead of your own thoughts. You weren’t gonna think about Johanna much longer; there wasn’t any point.
There was nothing you could do.
The next time you woke up and it was actually morning, you were surprised to see that Finnick was still there. While you were sleeping, he managed to snake his arms around you.
You didn’t get up, even though there were Capitol duties to attend to.
You stayed in bed and pretended that you were a normal couple, that maybe Finnick actually felt something for you, that you weren’t in the Capitol right now, that the world wasn’t so fucked up, that you weren’t so fucked up. But you didn’t pretend for long, eventually getting up and facing the world that you didn’t want to be apart of but had been sucked into.
He didn’t tell you this, but he was pretending, too.
You both went to the gatherings you had to go to, talked to the people you had to talk to, kept smiles on your faces, and shook Snow’s hand, even though it made you want to puke. You endured it all—you both did. The Prince and Princess of Panem…
You realized it was true what they said, heavy is the head that wears the crown. This figurative crown was weighing you down; you wondered if it’d be so coveted if people got the chance to feel how you felt.
Then you went back home, even if it didn’t really feel like a home to you. It was still all you had. But Finnick kept surprising you.
Your dance suddenly changed. The song was still playing, but the dance was different, almost like that night you’d spent together had actually meant something.
You started having dinner together every night. Before, you often forgot to eat, but now how could you? You were beginning to look forward to your daily dinners; there wasn’t much more to look forward to in the life you led.
He made it hard for you not to fall even more in love with him.
You two still didn’t talk during dinner, but it almost did feel normal, like you were a family- like you could be a family.
And then the dance changed again, and that dream felt even more real.
You pulled your chair out at your dinner table, sitting down across from Finnick. You were both dressed “down” in more comfortable clothes, but you knew there was some people in the district that still couldn’t afford them. That bothered you, but when you had dinner, most of your worries were pushed to the back of your mind.
When you two had dinner, you just enjoyed the dance.
You were a few minutes into dinner when you noticed that Finnick wasn’t eating but he was staring at you. He hadn’t stared at you like that since when you first met, so curiously, like you were a secret he wanted to be let in on.
You couldn’t ignore his stare, even if you tried. However, you tried to act nonchalant. “Is there something you want to say?” You quizzed, twirling another bite of pasta like you were unaffected by his gaze.
Finnick responded in the same beat, so much like the Finnick that was charismatic and lively, not the quiet one you normally lived with. “Something I want to ask you, actually.”
“Oh,” you said, immediately kicking yourself at how stupid you sounded. “Well, ask away.” He didn’t need to be told twice.
“What’s your favourite colour?”
You were caught off guard by his question, blinking like you were trying to figure out if you just imagined him saying him that or if he really did. He blinked back at you but never faltered.
“What?”
He repeated himself, slower this time. “What is your favourite colour?” You blinked again when you realized he was being totally serious. “You know, colours, like a rainbow-”
“I know what colours are, Finnick.”
“Ohhhh.” His eyes got big as if he thought you actually didn’t know what a rainbow was. “Sorry, you were just looking at me like I had said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. So what’s your favourite colour?”
You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips going up as his grin just got wider. God, you hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long. It actually looked real.
You thought about it for a second, looking right into his eyes when you came up with an answer. “It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.”
He looked at you for a few seconds before blurting, “Y/N, that sounds like the least vibrant shade of blue I’ve ever heard of.”
You laughed. “It’s vibrant to me!” He laughed, too, shaking his head like you were crazy. That shade of blue that you described was more vibrant than any other blue you’d ever seen. You could never tired of looking at it whenever you looked into Finnick’s eyes.
When the laughter died down, you asked him the same question. “Okay, now what’s your favourite colour?”
He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”
You scoffed, “Oh, come. on. You have to have a favourite colour; you can’t be that boring.”
“That boring? I’m not boring at all,” he argued, a look of faux offence on his face.
You snorted. “I beg to differ.”
“I can make you beg a lot more if you don’t take that back.” Your eyes immediately went wide and, against your will, a faint redness spread on your cheeks.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, crossing his arms. He looked pleased at the reaction he got out of you. “Take it back.”
You scoffed again, but you weren’t sure if it was because of your stubbornness or because you wanted to see how far you could push him. “I’m not taking anything back.”
He just stared at you for a few seconds before flashing that famous smirk of his, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Really?”
You crossed your arms, too, nodding. “Mhm.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”
And then he spent the rest of the night showing you just how boring he wasn’t.
The day after, you didn’t wake up dejected but instead with a smile on your face. You didn’t get out of bed at all, staying in Finnick’s arms. You felt giddy, like a school girl. There were no thoughts of his lack of feelings for you, Annie, or The Games. You just laid there and enjoyed the moment.
It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.
When Finnick woke up, you did it all over again. You ended up staying in bed all day together, cancelling your plans.
And when the time came to get out of bed, to go back to the real world, the music didn’t go back to normal. It was more upbeat now. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the beat to drop, but it didn’t.
Finnick didn’t pretend like you two sleeping together never happened. In fact, you two kept doing it almost every day. You actually had conversations during dinner. You learned basic things about him that you hadn’t known in all of the time you were living together.
He made you laugh often. You stopped crying so much.
Is this what happiness feels like? you wondered. If it was, you never wanted anything different. Whatever Finnick felt for you, it didn’t matter. As long as he kept making you happy, it didn’t matter.
You were so in love with him that it stopped mattering if he reciprocated your feelings. You didn’t want anything to ruin this, what you had. Your relationship was the most special thing you’d ever had, even if you didn’t know what to call it, so you were gonna do your damn best to hold onto it.
The things he’d say in front of the cameras felt real, then the things he did when you were alone made you believe it even more. Whatever this was between you, it felt real.
So real.
You were stirring something on the stove when two arms snaked around your waist, tickling you, making a squeal fly from your lips. “Finnick!” You screeched, trying to suppress your giggles as you turned around. The culprit (who was shirtless) didn’t look guilty at all, a shit-eating grin on his face. You shoved his shoulder. “I am trying to cook us breakfast.”
He snorted. “Yeah, trying and failing.” You shoved him again, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry, you can’t cook!”
You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “I’ll have you know, I can cook very well, actually.”
He wrapped his arms around you again. “You know, you’re cute when you pout.”
“I’m not pouting!” You exclaimed, but a blush still arose on your cheeks that Finnick noticed right away. It was almost like he was always watching for those types of things, always trying to say or do something to get you red.
“You’re even cuter when you blush.”
Your blush worsened, but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of your defeat. “I’m not blushing. We’re in a kitchen, and it’s hot.”
He pulled you closer to him, grin widening. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart, about your blushing or your cooking.” He glanced behind you. “Oh, look, burnt food.”
Your eyes went wide, immediately turning around. You groaned when you saw the brown eggs and the trail of smoke coming from them. “It’s all your fault, Finn, you distracted me.”
He gave your head a kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.” Luckily, you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see how your cheeks reddened. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though Finnick seemed to adore them. “Let’s leave the cooking to me from now on.”
You lightly scoffed, “Whatever.” He kissed your cheek before you started walking away, planning to sit on the couch while you waited for him to cook the food. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smug.
“Who messes up eggs?” he muttered under his breath once you were a few feet away.
“I heard that, Finnick!” you shouted, but he only let out a loud laugh.
You shook your head at him, plopping down onto the couch in the adjoining living room and turning the TV on, but it was really just background noise. You found it much more enticing to watch Finnick cook. The way he moved so swiftly looked effortless; he knew what he was doing, that was sure. And it didn’t help that he was shirtless.
You discreetly stared at him for a while—or, you thought you were being discreet. Without looking up from what he was doing, he teased, “You know that I can feel you ogling at me, right?”
You went red as a tomato. “Shut up, Finnick!” you shrieked, turning back to the TV as if you even knew what was playing. His laugh boomed and you turned up the volume to tune it out, only causing him to laugh even louder.
Even though you were thoroughly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring at him, a smile still found its way onto your face. Around Finnick, it was hard not find a reason to smile.
You’d be content if you didn’t do anything for the rest of your life but wake up to him every day.
You spent many more mornings like that together, and lunches, and dinners, and everything in between. You exchanged jokes and playful banter constantly. Finnick really did make your cheeks hurt.
But he knew when to be serious.
There were still nights when you’d wake up from nightmares, and he’d comfort you back to sleep every time. When you caught him in a nightmare, you’d try your best to repay the favour, even though that didn’t happen often. He rarely wanted you to see him like that, so he hid his nightmares, but you did everything you could to keep him happy while he was awake to make up for it.
When you went to the Capitol, all of the darkness crept back in, squeezing in through the cracks of the walls that you’d built—for both of you. But you kept each other grounded. You weren’t alone.
Once, he had to talk you back from the edge as you had a panic attack in the bathroom. He locked the door and stayed there with you until you calmed down. You told him that you saw someone you hadn’t seen up close in a while, an old patron, and that just opened the floodgates. You saw his hands ball up into fists; he tried to hide the anger on his face, but you saw it and you understood it.
He was angry at the Capitol, and so were you. He’d been through the same things you had, and that made it so much easier to cope, to have someone that understood. He understood for you and you understood for him, and so when things were bad, they at least became more okay. As long as you were there for each other, things were okay.
Meeting Johanna Mason at a later event nearly brought you right back to the brink. Her family was dead, she’d told you. And you wished you hadn’t understood so fast. You wished that none of you ever had to understand these things, that you could’ve stayed kids for longer before childhood was ripped away from you.
It’s not fair, you cried to Finnick. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.
He let you cry on his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he whispered, I know. It’s not fair, I know. But it was the world you lived in, and, unfortunately, neither of you had the power to do anything about it, even though you were the so called Prince and Princess of Panem.
So you did what you could. You were there for Johanna like how you were there for Finnick when you still didn’t know him. Both of you were there for her, teaching her the moves to your dance so she could dance with you while you were all at the Capitol together.
She was brutally honest, maybe even rude to the average onlooker, but it was what The Games did to her. Finnick and you understood that, and that led to you both forming a friendship with her. Coping with other people, people who understood, was the best painkiller that not even money could provide.
The Games were the hardest, but you went through that together, too. You trained those tributes with everything you had. You tried your best, but sometimes, not even that was enough to keep them alive. Finnick and you would grieve together. At times, he was more rational than you, reminding you that it wasn’t your fault, that these were games made to kill.
Whatever you went through, you went through it together. The good days, the bad days, the laughs, the tears—you were together every step of the way.
Things went like this for years. You really were a team, and nothing could convince you otherwise this time. You loved him more and more each day, but you never told him that; you didn’t need to, and you didn’t need him to love you, either. Being there, being together was good enough.
Your song never got old. You were so in sync as you danced. Oh, you never would’ve thought that Finnick Odair of all people would not only make your life bearable, but also joyful.
You were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and yeah those lines started to blur, but you also became best friends over time.
Finnick and you lied together in bed, the TV going on in the background. Your head was on his chest as he pet your hair. It was your seventh time doing this mentor thing, but it never seemed to get easier.
Your tributes were promising, but they still died early on, even though you both got them as many sponsors as you could. Mentors were usually down in the lobby, talking to sponsors and watching The Games with everyone else, but after your tributes died, there was no point.
So you went upstairs, and you both just lied there. It was one of those times where neither of you had to say anything. You were together, alive together, and that was enough.
Listening to Finnick’s heartbeat could calm you down in any situation. You must’ve been doing something to help him, too, because his heartbeat was steady. You stayed like that for a bit until he moved a bit, murmuring under his breath, “What?”
He sat up, making you sit up, too, while he grabbed the remote, turning the volume up. You glanced at it and the scene immediately caught your attention. You heard the last bits of what the announcer was saying, that a rule about two victors was being annulled. Your brows furrowed; you must not have seen the part where any such thing was declared.
You recognized the tributes who you quickly realized were the last people left standing. They were the kids from district 12, the Girl on Fire and the boy in love with her.
You scoffed. “Of course, they want the star-crossed lovers to battle to the death.” You were about to turn away, refusing to indulge in the Capitol’s bullshit, but Finnick grabbed onto your arm.
“Wait.”
You stopped, turning back. The girl, Katniss, had a bow and arrow in her hands. Peeta was a few steps away from her. They were both staring at each other, Katniss looking like she didn’t know what do, but Peeta looked like he already accepted that he was going to die.
You didn’t want to watch this, watch two people fall apart on television, but for some reason, this had captured Finnick’s attention.
One of us should go home, he said. One of us has to die; they have to have their victor. Katniss was already shaking her head.
No. She dropped her arrow to the ground, walking forward. They don’t.
You tilted your head, but you understood what was happening when she pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. “Holy shit.”
Peeta grabbed her hand, rejecting the idea immediately, but she whispered, Trust me. He must’ve really been in love with her, because he did. She poured some berries into the palm of his hand, making you lean closer.
“You don’t think they’re gonna…” you trailed off, puzzled. There were people that’d killed themselves in past games, but this had never happened. There was always a victor.
Peeta hesitated, but looked sure when he looked back into Katniss’ eyes. Together? he mumbled.
She repeated his words. Together. She looked up for a second, and then you suddenly recognized the look on her face. This was a bluff.
They counted down from three, and just as they were gonna bring the berries to their mouths, the announcer frantically cut in, Stop- stop! He cleared his throat. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners… of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.
Relief flooded into Katniss’ eyes as she embraced Peeta in a hug. Shock flowed through you, and Finnick’s expression was no different.
Once you had processed the information, you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, disbelief and pride filling you at the same time. “They just screwed the Capitol.”
You turned to see him smirking. “Hell yeah, they did.”
And this made your Hunger Games experience just a little bit better.
Neither of you were surprised that Seneca Crane was found dead days later. He made a grave mistake, letting two victors win. Snow wouldn’t have that, and you could guess why.
What Katniss and Peeta did was causing chatter, sparking hope. People in district 4 were more hush-hush about it, but outlying districts, like 11, had gone into revolts. The Capitol must’ve been stressed, and knowing that brought you some sick form of comfort.
Katniss and Peeta were spinning their actions, making them out to be this act of love, like they couldn’t bear to live without each other, but you and Finnick saw right through it. After all, if there was anyone who could spot a fake relationship, it was you two.
However, the two love-birds flew from your mind when you got home. You were brought back to your little world, living life alongside Finnick. The urge grew to ask him what you were, if you were still in a fake relationship just like Katniss and Peeta or if this was real, as real as you felt it was, but you didn’t wanna mess up the one good thing you had going.
The truth was, you don’t know how long you would’ve made it without him.
Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.
The next time you were at the Capitol, you were in the Presidential Palace for the so called biggest party of the year. It was always hosted right before the Hunger Games, so being there gave you many things to be anxious about.
But, like always, you concealed it, smiling and shaking hands with the people you came across, even as you were disgusted. Some of these people, the very people who paid for your body at sixteen, were there with their families. You wondered how they could have children and still do what they did.
You were a child, too.
Normally, Finnick would be there to calm you down, but he snuck off somewhere without telling you.
You were wandering around, trying to find him when a head of brown hair streaked with red came into your view. “Hey, Princess.”
A sigh left your lips, both out of relief that you found someone you knew and discontent at the nickname. “Hey, Jo.” You would usually make conversation with her, but you were pretty distracted, glancing around behind her. “Have you seen Finnick anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”
When you looked back to her, a look you couldn’t decipher flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “No, can’t say I have.”
For some reason, you got a weird feeling from her. It was almost like she knew something that you didn’t.
“Hey, why don’t we go grab a bite while we wait for him?” She suggested, gesturing to the buffet. “I’m starving.”
You shook your head, dazed. “I’ll catch up with you- I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”
She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”
You were quick to decline. “No, that’s fine; go eat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She was hesitant for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but she eventually nodded, agreeing to meet you later.
You walked through the halls, passing the bathrooms and not even sparing them a glance. You didn’t really know why you lied about where you were going, but in that moment, it felt like instinct. You trusted Johanna, but you were catching the same weird vibe from countless other people. All you wanted was to find Finnick and have him tell you everything was alright.
You didn’t have to look long before you found him, outside along with many other partygoers. But he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a man you’d just recently seen on TV. You just couldn’t remember his name.
You made your way over to them. They cut themselves off as soon as they saw you, not letting you overhear a single detail of whatever they were talking about. You stifled the reappearance of that weird feeling that was starting to feel a lot like suspicion. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”
Finnick waved you off, “No, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “This is Plutarch Heavensbee.” A lightbulb went off in your head as you looked to the man.
He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.
What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?
“It’s an honour and a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted, holding his hand out. There was something about him that was throwing you off, not just your revelation of who he was, but you still shook his hand.
“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Heavensbee,” you replied, smiling your umpteenth fake smile of the night. But you had an inkling that no one in the Capitol was as genuine as they seemed.
Plutarch didn’t try to stay and make small talk like the rest of the people you encountered at the Capitol, bidding you both farewell and wishing you a good night. Something told you his departure had something to do with your arrival.
Once he was out of earshot, you turned in Finnick’s arms. “Was that the new head Gamemaker?” He nodded, but didn’t offer any explanation. You furrowed your brows. “What were you talking about?”
Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason, he seemed tense. “He wanted to meet the youngest victor of The Games.”
You found that hard to believe, holding back a scoff. “Well, he didn’t seem too interested in meeting me.”
A smile arose on his face as he wrapped his arms back around your waist. “That is because you, darling, are not the youngest person to ever win.”
This time, you did scoff, but the tense atmosphere dissipated. “You’re a dick.”
“You love me.” Your heart nearly stopped, but you kept your composure. You did love him, more than he’d ever know.
You shook your head, acting unaffected. “C’mon, Johanna’s waiting for us by the buffet.” You tried walking away, but your faux façade of annoyance was broken by Finnick latching onto your hand and walking forward with you, chuckling.
And then the entire matter of everyone’s weird behaviour was pushed to the back of your mind.
Returning home from the Capitol was always peaceful, like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but this time was unlike any of those other times. When you got home, the so called peace that the Capitol so delicately crafted was ripping at the seams.
The chatter from before, from when Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol, was louder than ever. They had just gone on their victor’s tour, right before you left for the Presidential Palace, and they had apparently sparked a reaction in just about every district they visited, yours included.
You found out that district 4 had been in a revolt since Everdeen and Mellark came and gave their speech. The people were outraged. The news talked about seafood shortages due to bad weather, but the Capitol just didn’t want to let Panem know what was going on, that people were refusing work, that Peacekeepers were murdering innocent people left and right for the smallest of incidents.
When you were all caught up with what had happened, you were furious, too. You wanted to march out onto the streets and give the Capitol the finger, but Finnick pulled you back.
“What are you gonna do, Y/N?” he questioned, not even giving you the time to answer. “You don’t even know.”
Your voice was vicious as you responded, a tone you’d never given him. You were angry, and you both knew you weren’t thinking clearly; you just didn’t care. “I don’t know right now, but I’m gonna do something, Finnick.” You tried pulling your arm away, but he was much stronger than you.
“I’m not gonna let you go out there and get yourself killed.” You could tell by his demeanour that he was angry, but not for the same reasons that you were.
You shook your head. “You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”
His eyes went hard. “You must not know me well if you think I’d let my girlfriend kill herself.” That shut you up.
His girlfriend.
He called you his girlfriend.
You got over the shock and, suddenly, you were even more angry than before. While you could pretend all you wanted to that you lived in candy-land, the cruel reality was still there. Finnick didn’t love you. He was only playing with your emotions.
Tears built up in your eyes: sad tears, angry tears—they were everything tears. You felt everything. “I’m your girlfriend now?”
He scoffed, “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.”
“I am so serious right now.”
At your deadpan, he finally let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair. A part of you felt bad that he was so stressed, but you were stressed, too. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say when he looked back up at you. His voice was no longer harsh, but small. “Y/N, please.”
You swallowed.
“I’m just asking you to trust me.” He grabbed onto your hands. “Please just trust me.” He was begging you.
“Trust you to do what?”
“I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please.” He held your hands tighter. “Trust me.”
Oh, it didn’t matter how angry you were, if your thoughts were set in stone. Finnick would still be able to mold you like clay. Every time.
“I trust you.”
There was something different about him, but you were too distracted to try and figure it out.
There were so many things going on.
You were with Annie when it happened. Oh, that must have been some cruel joke from the universe. You were walking through the town square, on your way to Victors’ Village with pastries from the bakery in your hands. You were slowed down by the all of the people congregating together, watching the screen.
President Snow was announcing the third Quarter Quell, and they were eating it up. You weren’t gonna do that, entertain his lunacy. You’d go the Capitol and play your role, but you weren’t gonna watch these broadcasts anymore. You weren’t gonna play along.
Finnick could explain it to you later so you’d be able to prep your tributes. The Quells were always made out to be the hallmark of The Games; they were always harder. You felt for whatever kids would have to go through them.
You felt a lot more once you realized who these tributes were gonna be.
You weren’t listening to what Snow was was saying, but his words cut through any sort of mental block you had. “On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are… to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.”
Your stopped walking as if you’d hit a wall, the stuff in your hands falling the ground, but it was almost like you didn’t hear it. You stopped hearing anything, not Snow explaining the condition or everyone’s gasps. Your ears rang. Everything was muffled like you were underwater.
You were done. You were supposed to be done. You went through those Games, you won, and now you were supposed to be done.
He was gonna make you go through it all over again.
You were so shocked that you pinched yourself, like you were a child and this was some nightmare, and even though you didn’t wake up, even though you knew you were awake, you were still caught in a nightmare that you’d have to die to escape from.
Your senses came back to you and you spun around, pulling Annie into a tight hug the second you saw the tears streaming down her face. She muttered the same thing over and over into your shoulder.
“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”
She couldn’t go through this again. The Games broke her beyond repair. She couldn’t mentor because of it; she could barely ever attend any of the Capitol parties you and Finnick frequented. She would die in that arena, either mentally or physically.
You couldn’t let that happen.
Your song played on a loop in your mind, making the decision for you. You were reminded that, even though your dance may have changed, Finnick didn’t love you. He loved Annie, and he would be destroyed if she died.
You couldn’t let that happen.
You couldn’t let Mags go back into the arena, either. He needed her. These were the only people he cared about; you couldn’t let them go through this.
Then and there, you decided your fate.
You were gonna be the one to go back into the arena, and no one was gonna stop you.
When you and Annie had made it to your house, ignoring all of the looks of pity thrown your way, Finnick looked just as beaten down as you, but not surprised. You didn’t have time to analyze that.
He hugged Annie first, shooting you an apologetic look, but you didn’t understand what it was for. You knew what Annie meant to him.
You weren’t so deluded that you’d believe you came before her. Besides, she needed to be consoled more than you did. You were calm. Annie was lost right now, but you knew exactly where you were headed.
That night, once Annie left, your clothes came off, and you and Finnick had the softest sex you ever had. It was gentle, and you let yourself feel loved one last time. You let yourself be selfish and have this one thing, just one last time.
You knew that the odds of coming out of that arena were slim, so you kissed Finnick like you were gonna die the very next day. I just might, you thought. And then as you fell asleep in his arms, you pretended that everything was alright. You pretended that your dance wasn’t gonna end so soon, that you weren’t gonna sign your life away when you woke up, that Finnick really loved you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him. You pretended one last time.
The next day, you and all of the other victors walked to the Hall of Justice, escorted by a dozen Peacekeepers. There were so many male tributes. As terrible as it sounded, you were praying that it’d be one of them that was chosen, not Finnick. If he was, then you would throw away any chance you had of winning.
If he went in with you, then he’d be the one walking out.
Cassia Locke stood in the middle of the stage, in between the male and female victors. You found it funny, almost: you were victors, but now the Capitol was gonna rip that refuge away after they’d already taken everything from you.
Cassia was just another mutt in your eyes. She was district 4’s Capitol escort; she was meant to be an advisor, but she didn’t do that well, not for you or the other tributes you mentored. But you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised. Her job was to make spectacles, not survivors.
However, she almost looked human for a moment, glancing at the women sympathetically before she pulled out a folded paper from the bowl. You stood on edge; there were only three of you. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick also stood straighter in trepidation.
She cleared her throat, announcing, “The female tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell is… Annie Cresta.”
Annie’s face fell, but you quickly stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”
“Y/N, what are you doing?” Annie whispered, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed her off and ignored her.
Cassia nodded. “Very well, then.” She moved back to the bowl. “Now for the males.”
You glanced over to see that Finnick was already looking at you, an unknown emotion written all over his face, though you realized what it was quickly. Betrayal.
You were confused why. If anything, he should’ve been relieved.
“The male tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games will be…” she unfolded the paper, “Finnick Odair.”
Your heart dropped. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
The universe must’ve hated you.
Finnick’s mask was back on. Any trace of emotion on his face was erased and replaced with the cocky, charming façade that he’d perfected. He smirked as if he wasn’t just chosen for the most brutal “game” there ever was, like there was nothing to be worried about.
He was so good at pretending. Maybe even better than you.
You both walked toward the centre of the stage simultaneously, routinely. You’ve danced this dance before.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.”
Right after that, Peacekeepers came from the side, trying to grab at your arms, but you shook them off. “We know where to go,” you said. You don’t know if it was the your tone of voice or the look on your face, but they actually listened.
You were escorted into an inactive chamber, the same one you were brought to for your first Games. Memories flashed through your mind before you shook them away. You couldn’t get PTSD right before you went into this.
Finnick was stoic as he stared you, but before either of you could say anything, Mags and Annie came rushing into the room. Annie took you by surprise, immediately engulfing you tightly.
She was still crying, but manage to blubber out through her tears, “Why- why would you do that?”
You rubbed her back. “Annie-”
“Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to be me.” She kept repeating herself over and over, shaking in your arms.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick and Mags watching you. “It’s gonna be okay, Annie,” you told her, but you knew it was a lie. “I’m gonna be fine.” You weren’t.
As if she knew this, she only cried harder. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept rubbing her back, hoping that she’d calm down. Eventually, she stopped shaking, but tears kept flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.
She sniffled, going over to hug Finnick, then hugging you one last time before she left. “Take care of each other- please,” she asked, and you weren’t thinking of doing anything but.
You nodded, assuring her that you would do just that. Mags hugged you, saying the words she couldn’t express through her gaze. You could tell that neither of them wanted to leave, but they had to.
Only one of you was gonna come back, and that was gonna be hard to come to terms with.
They left, and then it was just you and Finnick. The music kept playing, and playing, and playing, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You didn’t want to hear this song ever again if it could be your last time listening.
If you could have it your way, you’d dance together until the end of time. But forever was never promised, not in the world you lived in.
The silence, however, felt like it lasted a forever in the moment, so you broke it. “Can you say something?” Finnick just kept staring at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The music got louder. Tears came to your eyes. “Please.”
Maybe he took pity on you, because he did say something. You just weren’t sure if it was any better than the silence. “Why would you do that?” His voice was cold.
You felt cold.
You swallowed. “Finn-”
“Why would you volunteer?” He stepped closer to you, so much venom seeping through his tone that you thought you were gonna be sick. “Annie was going to go-”
You cut him off, throwing your hands up. “You saw her, Finnick. She’s a mess.”
“She was going to be fine-”
“She can’t go through The Games again!” You shouted, losing it. Why was he berating you as if you didn’t just save the love of his life? “It would kill whatever part of her is left.”
“She would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine-”
“God, why do you care about what happens to me? Annie’s gonna be okay—you’re gonna be able to come home to her and build the family you’ve always wanted-”
He snapped. “You’re my family!” You recoiled like he just hit you with his words. It was like you’d been doused in cold water. Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was a beat where neither of you said anything, letting his revelation soak in.
But you didn’t know what that meant.
When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. He didn’t look like the Finnick that smirked up on that stage; he looked defeated, not triumphant. “You’re my family, Y/N. Don’t you get that?” He looked back up at you. “I could’ve protected Annie in that arena, and you would’ve been safe, here—not there with me.”
You shook your head. “There is no protecting someone in an arena- you and I know that best.” You let a tear fall, smiling sadly. “You’re gonna come home, Finnick-”
“Stop.”
“You’re gonna come home and you’re gonna live a long life with Annie-”
“Stop it.”
“You have people to take care of. I don’t.”
“Y/N, stop it.”
Another tear. “You deserve this-”
“Stop it.” Finnick grabbed onto your shoulders. You didn’t even know he got so close. “I’m not gonna let you die in there. Do you hear me? You’re not dying.”
“Only one of us is coming back, Finn. It’s gonna be you.”
You don’t know if your eyes were just really that blurry or if there were actually tears in his eyes, too. “No, you are coming home-”
“Finni-”
He grabbed you tighter. “We are both coming home.” The dam in your eyes broke, and all of the tears you were trying to hold came flooding down your cheeks.
Why was he saying these things? He knew it was impossible.
“We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear,” he promised, but these were promises he couldn’t keep. These were things he couldn’t control. Why was he lying to you- why was he lying to himself?
You wanted to say all these things, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t true, that you were going to die. But then you remembered every other time you lied in bed together, every time you kissed and held each other. You’ve been lying to yourself all along, pretending you could have a future together when, deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.
So you held everything in, pulling Finnick to you and hugging him with everything you had. You were gonna let him pretend, just this last time.
You were gonna dance together one last time.
You spent the entire train ride in each other’s arms, only getting up to eat and go to the bathroom before getting back in bed. You didn’t have mentors—you were the mentors. You’d been here before already, and that was surreal in and of itself.
You thought you already won. But nobody ever won, did they?
Those games killed everyone, victors included.
The press was insane, but just as you expected it. You were the Prince and Princess of Panem; they didn’t want to watch you die. Turns out, people in the Capitol did have hearts; clearly, they weren’t all too functional.
This visit, in more ways than one, was completely different from any other time you’d been in the city. Instead of the graceful show you normally put on, waving and smiling, you were much more mute. You were gonna die, anyway, so what was the point of continuing to be a puppet?
Finnick was still his usual self, smirky and arrogant, but even his anger snuck through the cracks of his act. All of you were angry, all of the victors. You could tell just by the mere glances you’d gotten of them, by the news coverage. Nobody wanted to go into an arena and kill people, not even the Careers (who you’d admit were pretty crazy).
However, this was all still a show to the Capitol, with you as the unlucky cast. And the show had to go on.
You and Finnick were separated to be prepped by the “glam teams.” The first time around, you remember being scared, but now you were just bored.
You were sitting idly in the dressing room, waiting for your designer when a man walked in, making you raise a brow.
This was a designer, but not your designer.
“Wait, I know you.” You tilted your head as his face became more familiar to you. “You’re Cinna- you designed those outfits with the fire.”
Cinna nodded in a way that you perceived as both humble and prideful at the same time. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess.”
This elicited a bitter chuckle from you. “Please, call me Y/N.” You then stood up to shake his hand when your curiosity sparked. “Aren’t you Katniss’ designer?”
“Yes, but I’m also going to be designing your outfits, as well,” he replied. “The head Gamemaker requested it. You are the Princess, after all.”
The corners of your lips went up. Most people you met at the Capitol would beat around the bush, but this guy didn’t seem shy. It was refreshing. You teased, “Ah, and since I’m a princess, I get Panem’s best to dress me?”
Cinna chuckled a bit under his breath, but didn’t confirm or deny your comment. He dived straight into his plans, explaining what he wanted to for you with a twinkle in his eye that you noticed most artists had when speaking about their work. “I want to stay true to the district 4 theme, but I want to make a statement.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling.”
He smiled. “We’re gonna show the Capitol that they can’t control you.”
And then your little smile turned into a grin.
Cinna did not disappoint. You were in a golden, long-sleeve, grid shirt with holes where the squares were supposed to be; your velvet skirt was a dark blueish-green, skin-tight; and atop your head was a golden crown, decorated with blue jewels.
Of course, it wasn’t a normal outfit, but you were gonna save the theatrics for the parade.
Finnick was around somewhere, likely causing trouble while you were walking around, looking for Johanna. However, you ended up running into someone else.
“Peeta,” you called, and he turned around. He immediately reminded you of Finnick, a mask of charm hiding him. Although Peeta had only been at this for a year, he already knew how to play the game, unlike Katniss who was rather unapproachable.
“Y/N,” he greeted. He scrambled for something to say for a few seconds. “I heard about how you volunteered for that girl. It was really brave.”
You hummed, almost sarcastically. “You don’t have to suck up to me—it’s not like I bite.”
He got red, making you stifle a laugh. “That’s, uh- that’s not what I meant-”
“It’s fine, I get it,” you waved it off. “It’s probably intimidating to be here around all of us, just a year after you won.” He didn’t say anything, just awkwardly smiled. “You know, you don’t have to be scared. You have a lot of power ‘round here; you just need to learn how to wield it.”
He gave you a confused look, so you elaborated, “There’s power in the masses, Peeta. The people here love you.” You paused. “Use that.”
A look of realization crossed his face, and so you decided that you said all you needed to say. He thanked you, but his mind looked to be elsewhere. You nodded, then walked off to find your carriage.
Sure, the Capitol could try and treat you all like pieces on a chess board, but if you got rid of the board altogether, then there would be no game to play. You spoke to Peeta to help him realize that. It didn’t matter if you were all meant to be on different sides; until you got into that arena, you were all one team, and you were gonna try your hardest to stop The Games before they began.
If that didn’t work, then you would just have to concede. One way or another, you would make sure that Finnick made it out of that arena alive. Peeta reminded you an awful lot of him, and while you would otherwise be rooting for him, you would choose Finnick if it came down to it.
You met Finnick at the chariot not long after leaving Peeta. He was shirtless, wearing a skirt similar to your top, rope around his wrists like bracelets. If you weren’t about to go into this stupid parade, you would’ve probably been making out already, but you were far too worried to think about that.
You had Cinna to thank for calming your nerves, giving you something to look forward to. Once the parade had started and you were coming through, you pressed the button of the device he had given you and then your top went up in flames, disintegrating until you were just in a black bralette, revealing the swirls of blue they painted on your arms, resembling waves. The rope around Finnick’s wrists caught fire, too, burning up until there was nothing there.
The crowd cheered, chanting your names. The faintest of smirks grew on your lips, but you really had to stifle your enjoyment when you saw Snow staring your carriage down.
What you did symbolized freeing yourself of the shackles of the Capitol, of these stupid Games. They could try, but they wouldn’t control you.
You would’ve usually felt some sort of fear- hell, you were never so defiant just in fear of what they would do to you. But what more could they do to you? They were already going to kill you. You didn’t care anymore.
After the parade, you ran into Johanna who gave you a good laugh as she told you how she stripped in the elevator. You would’ve paid good money to see it, that was for sure. You also talked to a few other victors on your way back to your suite.
You’d been friends with many of these people for years and now the Capitol was just gonna try and pit you against each other. None of you were looking forward to that—you were friends. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make any allies.
Alliances didn’t last forever in the arena, but they lasted long enough. Considering your status, almost everyone wanted you and your “boyfriend” as allies; they certainly didn’t want you as enemies.
The next day was spent at the training centre, a brand new one made specially for the Quarter Quell. The thought made you roll your eyes. The Capitol would spend their money on things like this and yet there were still kids out there starving. What kind of world was that? One that you were okay with leaving, so long as Finnick would remain in it.
On your way in, you passed Cashmere and Gloss throwing knives at holograms. They were good, you noted, but not better at it than you. Johanna was off practicing by herself—though you were sure that she was doing it more so to release her pent-up aggression. Wiress and Beetee, Nuts and Volts as Jo called them, were by themselves, much less violent than everyone else here and much more strategic. Finnick was tying knots, looking more bored than anything. And you… you weren’t doing anything.
You leaned back on a wall, watching the other tributes instead of joining them. You didn’t care about the rankings or making yourself look dangerous. You didn’t have anything to prove; you did that already, and you really didn’t need to “practice,” either.
You’ve danced this dance before.
However, not everyone was so aware of just how well you danced last time.
“Not practicing?” You turned your head, seeing the newest victor walking up to you, donning her famous hairstyle. The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement.
She must have been told to make friends. You couldn’t imagine it was working out so well if she was coming to you.
“Don’t need to, Everdeen,” you replied, shrugging. “I don’t need the spotlight; got enough of that.”
She lightly snorted. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” And you didn’t doubt that. Katniss had definitely captured the attention of Panem with her actions, and she certainly acquired the attention of the Capitol. Snow couldn’t have been her biggest fan.
In another life, you could picture you and her being friends, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen in this one.
“You’re lucky, you know,” you said. You knew she didn’t see that way, and maybe it was a little bitter of you to say that, but it was true. At least she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough for it to burn her like it’d burned you.
She scoffed, “How so?” The girl had restraint, you’d give her that. She clearly wanted to say a lot more than that, but she was smart. She knew better.
You shrugged again. “You just are.” And you left it there. If she wanted all the dirty details about you, she could try her luck with one of the other victors, but you doubted she sensed the real meaning of your words. She hadn’t been dancing long enough to even hear the song yet.
A dramatic sigh then escaped your lips. “Ah, though I suppose even your luck can only run so far, Girl on Fire. So sorry about your wedding.” The sarcasm in your voice was toned down just enough that it wasn’t so evident but evident enough to make your point.
She gave you a tense smile, although you weren’t sure if any of Katniss’ smiles ever weren’t tense. “Thanks,” she responded with zero sincerity in her tone. “I’m sorry you and Finnick never had one, either. Would’ve been a real royal occasion.”
You hummed, smiling your royal smile back at her. The Kat has claws, you thought. But you didn’t really feel like standing here and trading subliminals with her all day; you’d have enough of that with everyone else, anyway.
You left it at that, going to walk away before pausing as if you’d forgotten something. “Tell Haymitch I said hi.” You gave her a once over. “He’s done a good job.” And then you walked away.
Finnick’s voice rang through your head: May the odds be ever in your favour, darling. You almost felt like recycling that line and repeating it to Katniss, but you had already messed with her enough.
Your demeanour was in stark contrast of how you normally behaved. You may have been more agreeable or kind at home, sweet on cameras, but in this territory, you had an entirely different reputation. Sharp, cunning, unpredictable—ruthless. That’s the way it needed to be if you wanted to survive, or at least survive long enough to do what you needed to do.
So, you supposed that you had a mask, too.
You all did.
When you got back to your suite later in the evening, Finnick informed you of Katniss’ display with her bow and arrow, how she had renowned victors quaking in their boots, but people were even more scared of you, and you hadn’t even done anything at training.
You basically had the entire pool of tributes to choose from for an alliance. You were choosing Johanna, of course, and Finnick already had his mind made up on his pick.
Making his way over to you, he tossed you something that you swiftly caught before sitting down on the armchair across from the sofa you were sitting on. You looked down, opening your hand to see a golden pendant, a medallion with a rose in the middle.
You raised a brow. This wasn’t a present. “A rose?”
“They’re a Capitol favourite.” Precisely why you hated them.
“Alright, and why are you giving it to me?”
Finnick brought his wrist up, showing you a golden bracelet made of vines while wiggling his fingers. “They’re gifts,” he told you, “from Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.”
You were familiar with both people. Effie Trinket was crazy, but that wasn’t the dominant thought on your mind. “Gifts for what?”
He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”
“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.
“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.
Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.
To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.
So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”
He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”
You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”
“It appears so, darling.”
After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.
She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.
When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.
Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.
You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.
He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.
The song was getting old.
You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.
When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.
You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.
Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.
It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.
The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.
Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.
You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.
You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it.
When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.
Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened.
As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn’t have.
It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.
You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.
You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.
He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.
You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.
Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on.
Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.
Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.
Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.
“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.
Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.
You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.
He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.
He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.
You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.
Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”
“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”
You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours.
Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”
The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.
You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.
An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”
The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.
When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”
“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.
“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”
If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.
The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”
The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.
The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.
“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”
“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.
“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”
You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.
The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.
You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.
You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.
Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.
You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.
You could be a good actor, too.
For him.
You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.
You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.
Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.
You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.
But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.
You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.
“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”
You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.
“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”
You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.
When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint.
He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”
“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”
“If it weren’t for the baby.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.
Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.
People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.
Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.
It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words.
That’s when the lights cut out.
But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.
While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.
However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.
Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie.
Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.
These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.
You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.
But you weren’t his.
Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.
The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.
And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.
You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.
And then The Games begun.
Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade
#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair#i love finnick odair#the hunger games#thg#thg fandom#thg fanfiction#catching fire#angsty imagine#angst#the hunger games trilogy#mockingjay#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#katniss everdeen#johanna mason#peeta mellark#katniss and peeta#everlark#the golden alliance#effie trinket#haymitch x effie#haymitch abernathy#coriolanus snow#cinna#caesar flickerman#finnick and annie#annie cresta#odesta#finnick imagine#thg finnick
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Survivor's Remorse (II)
Part Two
18+ | NSFW | PTSD
Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
How could I?
Peeta didn’t look scared but that didn’t make this ok. He’s a guy, of course his body would react on instinct. I had no right. I immediately bolt from the bed before he can grab me with those powerful hands of his. Always trying to hold me together and I’d violated him.
“I’m so sorry”, I gasped fighting my tears of disgust.
“Sweetness, you did nothing wrong”, he called in that honey sweet baritone.
I must have looked as feral as I did when I was coming off of the trackerjacker venom during my post-torture rescue. He only ever used that tone with me when I was about to lose my shit.
“I just assaulted you Peeta!”
“No. You were sleeping you-”
“Exactly! Just like what Marvel did to me! You were unconscious!”
“It’s not the same”, he tried softly. “You know how I feel about you. Marvel had no right to touch you!”
I forgot how wild the mention of Marvel made Peeta. I’d never watched our games, no intentions on seeing myself suffer in HD when it never left my nightmares. Marvel was the only tribute that Peeta had killed but I’d been unconscious when it happened. I’d woken up 3 days later latched onto Peeta like a tick, refusing to let go. No panties or shirt under my jacket and jeans but very sore. Marvel was nowhere in sight but, there was blood on the left wall of the cave. Peeta told me he’d gotten to me in time but with the soreness I had? It was clearly to keep what little sanity I’d had left intact. I allowed them to think I’d believed the lie.
It took what little good I had left in me. Forever taking what little hope I had to be with Peeta away.
“I was unconscious. So were you. Unconscious people can’t say no”, I snarled taking another step backwards.
“It’s not the same. I invited you into my bed. I lov-”
“Stop it!” I screeched bolting from the room.
I can hear Peeta scrambling to get together to come behind me but I’ve always been faster. And I cared little for pants anyway. I darted out the window and took off to the forest. It’d grown much lusher since the districts can come and go between each other. It was warm out even with night still reigning. I needed to hurt something so I didn’t hurt myself. Going to my hollowed-out trunk I bypassed the bow today, needing more personal methods of killing tonight.
I stayed out until the sky began to turn Peeta’s favorite colors. Taking that as my sign to head back with my haul. I left half of my kill in the ice cooler in the now updated shed out here that the hunters have asked my permission to utilize. They can carry the heavy buck back to town themselves. I’d skinned it. They can do the rest.
After taking a bath in the pond I finally trekked back to the Victors Village, peeking around the homes to make sure Peeta wasn’t in sight. When the coast was clear I slid into the side window of Haymitch’s living room and started a fire, depositing my kill in the sink. He was fast asleep in one of the armchairs in front of the fire with a cup beside him. I fumbled through the middle cabinet in the back compartment for my secret stash. Found em! I grabbed three of the bottles of the clear liquid and plopped down on the loveseat in front of the fire.
“Want some pants there sweetheart?”, he chuckles with a stretch that makes his bones pop loudly.
“No. But I’ll take a blanket”
He removed the black fuzzy blanket from the chair that Peeta usually sits in and draped it over my legs since I was sitting Indian-style on the couch staring into the flames. The smell of his cinnamon wafted into my nostrils hitting me with another wave of guilt.
“You know he was here looking for you last night, right?”
“I’m sure”, I grimace swallowing 1/3 of the first bottle in one swig.
I understood why Haymitch used to drown himself daily to numb the memories. I quite liked the burn of alcohol myself and the dreamy state that I felt when it hit.
“A bit early for you, isn’t it?”
“You’re one to talk”, I snort
“Exactly. I said early for you”
He took the second bottle from my lap and poured half into his teacup. I shoot him a halfhearted smirk. Haymitch was my mentor but he became more of a father to me than I’d ever known. I liked that he was flawed. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this. He didn’t judge me. Haymitch just was blunt. Not everyone liked that. I did. We’d grown close in our last 5 years together knowing he wasn’t one to lie to me....normally. We sat in comfortable silence for a little while before it came tumbling out.
“I molested Peeta”, I breath shakily as I take another gulp.
Haymitch choked on his hot toddy and slammed the cup down. He was on the couch beside me forcing me to look at him faster than I could register with his powerful grip. Sometimes I forget just how agile he can be.
“That is not what you did! Don’t fucking say that again!”
“It’s what it feels like! I was never supposed to taint him!”
“Grow up! You’re both adults now. You know good and God damn well if Peeta invited you to sleep in that bed with him, he’s more than willing to take whatever you give him. He wouldn’t have allowed you to sleep beside him anymore once you turned 18 if you both hadn’t known what could come from your little arrangement!”
“Not like that Pops”, I cried wiping my eyes in frustration. “I almost did to him what Marvel did to me. It’s why I can’t with Peeta. He deserves so much better”
“Is that what you really think happened?”
I’d never seen Haymitch’s crystal blue eyes so downhearted. To finally understand that I never once believed any of them when they told me that lie to keep me sane.
That I know they’d all lied to me.
“If you refuse to watch the game, I think you owe it to Peeta to ask him about what happened that night”
“I did”
He knew this entire topic left me feeling as raw as if the gamemakers rubbed me through a grater.
“No, you didn’t. In the games all you did was ask what happened to Marvel. You never talked about it when he told you he got to you in time. You just assumed he meant saving your life”
“Drop it”
“No. Talk to him about it. It didn’t happen”
“Your pussy didn’t hurt for a week!”, I shout into his stupefied face pushing him away from me and stomping to the kitchen to grab another bottle now that mine were empty.
Haymitch is on me in seconds.
“Look, we can drink ourselves blue, but go sit. Get warm. I’ve got this. We’re going to talk about this. Now”
I resign myself to listen, my body already wracked with physical exhaustion. I didn’t want to deal with the emotional draining this topic required. I curl back up under the soft covers, staring into the flames, wishing they’d swallow me whole. The one person I swore to protect, I’d violated. Yet he’d come here looking for me worried about my mental health. Haymitch has made me a hot toddy and it warms my whole body with each sip.
“You were right you know”
“I always am” he huffed indignantly
“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him”
“I was being bitter when I said that”
“Still true”
“Never was. You underestimate him as a man and that’s your problem. I know you’re healing; you’re growing. We all are. But you need to accept that he is a man now. Peeta is fully aware of the consequences to all of the choices you two make. Respect him by accepting that”
“I know full well what an amazing person Peeta is”
“Clearly. I said as a man. If you’re dry humping him in your dreams, might as well accept that you love him too. No point in fighting it sweetheart. Truth be told, I thought this happened years ago”
“Haymitch!”
Either the liquor was kicking in or he just was feeling unusually open today. We never really discussed my private life with Peeta sleeping at my place or me at his. I did feel quite loose but I didn’t feel safe. I eyed the chair warily but decided I would need his scent to sleep comfortably. I dragged the comforter up with me and curled into the plush armchair Peeta always sat in, burying my nose in the arm cushion. It smelled just like him. Bread, butter, whiskey and honeysuckle.
“You love him and it’s time to accept it. Even if you were just friends, you don’t think you owe him a conversation about what happened? No matter how in denial you are about what happened in your games”
“I’m scared”, I admit with a tremble as my body sags further into the chair.
I’d only slept for 2 hours at Peeta’s and I was exhausted, the liquor snatching the rest of my energy that his comforting scent hadn’t. I’d been comfortable pretending to believe the lie without ever having to discuss it.
“You’ll get over it” Haymitch snorts tucking the blanket in tighter around me
I feel a kiss to my forehead before I’m out.
***
Haymitch slipped some morphling in your drink. It was easy to get you to listen when he slipped you some after coming down from a manic episode as your sanity lapsed sometimes. It still happened to him sometimes too. It bothered him that you’d felt this way for 5 years but, hopefully you and Peeta would work that out.
Speaking of which.
Haymitch made his way 5 houses down, not bothering to knock as he strolled into Peeta’s kitchen. He’d been up all night worried about you. It was clear because there was fresh baked bread, rolls and bagels all over the counters. Haymitch pocketed 2 rolls clearly made from District 4’s tropical ingredients. Finnick must have sent some over. He grabbed a loaf of raisin bread that had to have come out recently because it was steaming. Peeta looked up from the sink hearing Haymitch crunch on a bear-claw behind him noisily. He quickly dropped the pan he’d been holding and darted over, his wide brown eyes full of worry.
“Is she ok?”
“You are free to come and pick up your delightful cinnamon roll at your leisure. She’s passed out in your chair. Again”
“Did...did you slip her morphling?”
“Didn’t have much choice after the nonsense she was talking”
“What do you mean?”
Peeta removed his apron and slipped on a hoodie, following Haymitch down the front stairs. Haymitch stopped and let out a sigh that seemed like it weighed his entire spirit down.
“She thinks she molested you. And that Marvel raped her”
Now it was Peeta’s turn to recoil.
“What?”
“Exactly”
It would take at least 6 hours for the morphling to wear off but Peeta was nothing if he wasn’t patient. He waited 11 years just to be noticed by you. He could wait a few more hours to clear this up and truly make you his. He made his way into Haymitch’s living room to see you passed out on his lounge. Nuzzling your nose deep into the cushions to feel as if you were surrounded by his natural smell. This brought Peeta some comfort. You still only wore one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxershorts, but it was clear you’d been out hunting. There were still some leaves in your long, dark curls. There were still some leaves in your long, dark curls. He plucked them out and ran his fingers through them tenderly.
“Sorry about this”
“Don’t be. Just...work this out. Today”
“I will”
Peeta scooped you into his arms with ease, blanket and all, carrying you to his home and lying you down back in the bed. He had at least an hour before you began to fight at the morphling, realizing you were alone.
He had to find that tape.
Then he'd have to wake up an old ally. Hopefully he'd have time for him right now.
It took about 20 minutes of fumbling through the large box from when Effie had sent the previous victor tapes over for the Quarter Quell but he finally found it. It took another 20 minutes to split the particularly unpleasant angles out, Peeta grit his teeth angrily trying to keep his head together as his rage threatened to consume him. Beetee helped him through it, talking deeply and gently through their breathing and processing techniques. Once he had the tape together he took it into the bedroom and lay it on the nightstand. Watching you sleep for a little bit, wanting to climb in beside you so bad.
A few hours of indulgence couldn't hurt.
#i ship it#the hunger games peeta#peeta#peeta smut#peeta x reader#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark smut#i love peeta#hunger games fanfiction#hunger games#peeta hg fanfiction#peeta fanfiction#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#survivors remorse#part two
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beautiful mess | f. odair
masterlist
summary: finnick knows exactly how to comfort you in a moment of insecurity.
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: established relationship, menstruation, fluff, boyfriend!finnick being a cutie patootie, angst, mild hurt/comfort, insecurity, a little overdramatic but it’s cute idc
notes: about to get my period so this is kind of self-indulgent lmao. the number of times I rewrote this is insane. i hope i didn’t disappoint <3
“You know, I think I could pull off one of those long wizard beards,” Finnick said, admiring himself in the bathroom mirror as he shaved down the slight stubble on his jaw. “Those ones that go down to your chest? I could decorate it with little seashells and twine. It’d look hot, don’t you think?”
His playful words didn’t register in your mind.
Frustrated tears threatened to spill as the hairbrush in your hand tugged harshly at the roots of your hair. Nausea was bubbling in your stomach as you stared at your reflection, feeling as though not a single human being in history had ever looked as ugly as you did right now.
“Sweetheart?”
Here you were standing next to a Greek god, meanwhile, your skin was all hot and blotchy, your hair was a tangled mess, and your stomach was aching something awful. Christ, you hated being on your period.
A hard lump was lodged in your throat; you tried to swallow it, but there was no use. Warm tears had already begun to stream down your cheeks. Unable to bear the sight of yourself any longer, you turned away from the mirror. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, a sharp unexpected cramp pierced at your insides, causing your legs to buckle and collapse to the cold tiled floor.
That was the last straw. You just couldn’t hold it in anymore. A disharmony of cries burst from your lips, reverberating around the small room as your shuddering body folded over itself. Curse the Fates for having you been born a girl.
Finnick, now switched to panic mode, quickly dropped to his knees before you, eyes wide and alert.
“Hey, hey!” he said soothingly as his hand moved to rub your back in support, though he wasn’t even sure what he was supporting.
A thousand-and-one distressing thoughts flew through his mind. Had someone died? Were you injured? Were you dying? Obviously, these ideas were a little irrational considering you were just standing next to him a second ago. But seeing the love of his life in pain and not knowing why made him fear the absolute worst.
“Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”
All you could do was sob in response. You felt pathetic. Stupid, ugly, and pathetic. “How can you—” Another sob left your lips— “stand to look at me?!”
You could feel his hand stop moving which, illogically, made you even more upset.
“What?” he asked quietly. “What do you mean ‘stand to look at you’? Please, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
Finally, you forced yourself to sit up, revealing the tears that streaked your distraught expression. Finnick’s brows scrunched together, almost like he was in pain watching you in such a state of disarray. He tried to think of anything he might’ve done to make you feel this way because, of course, the first thing Finnick Odair would do was blame himself. But nothing came to mind.
Your heavy heart sank—he looked so worried. A part of your brain knew you were overreacting. Justa little bit. It made you feel even more terrible, knowing he was panicked simply because you didn’t like how you looked. Nevertheless….
“I look so ugly!” you cried. “My hair is all knotted, my face is all red and gross, my stomach is cramping, and—and… I’m just a mess!” You buried your face in your hands. “Why are you even with me?”
Shock was an understatement compared to what Finnick felt when those words left your mouth. Never in a million years would he believe someone like you—someone who looked like you—could ever possibly be insecure about their appearance, and now, of all times.
He gently reached out and removed the hands that shielded your face. You attempted to turn away to conceal yourself in shame, in fear that if he got too close, he would discover your flaws and see you the way you saw yourself. But he caught your chin with a single finger and compelled you to meet his gaze.
Yes, your skin was a little red and your eyes were a little bloodshot, but that didn’t mean you looked ugly. In fact, your rosy cheeks glowed with such radiance that the teardrops falling from your crystalline eyes looked like shimmering diamonds. Your lips, which were slightly quivering, were reddened and plump—an alluring contrast to the hue of your skin.
Not that he would say it given the insensitivity and selfishness of admitting such a thought, but he believed you cried quite beautifully.
“Because I don’t think you’re a mess,” Finnick said softly, ironically tucking multiple disordered strands of hair behind your ear. “You’re human, and you don’t need to look or feel perfect all the time. That’s why you’ve got me—I’ll always think the most of you. And when you’re feeling this way, I’ll always remind you so too.”
You tried to allow his compassionate words to seep into your brain, tried to turn his beliefs into your own. However, the storm of emotions inside your mind was refusing to dissipate. The insecurities just wouldn’t subside and Finnick could see it in your glossy eyes.
“Listen to me,” he said, his thumb brushing away a tear that fell across your skin. “Waking up and seeing your gorgeous face next to mine? That’s what gives me the strength to get up every morning. Those imperfections you’re so adamant about? They only make me love you so much more.
I love every part of you. Every so-called flaw, every tangled strand of hair on that pretty little head of yours.” He grinned as he consolingly ran his fingers through your hair which, in his opinion, was perfectly soft and smooth. “You’re my girl and nothing will ever make me want it any other way.”
Hearing his declaration had your heart aching in your chest. Your hand curled around his arm, needing some physical anchor to the reassuring words he spoke. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, a sure-fire sign that he was telling the truth.
You realised you never had to worry about Finnick finding you unattractive. Though you were a little worried he was partially blind which, unfortunately, represented your own seemingly unshakeable insecurities.
“I wish I could see myself the way you do,” you whispered, voice hoarse from crying.
“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but just give it time. One day you’ll look back and wonder what the hell you were thinking. I mean, you? Ugly? Sweetheart, we might need to get you some glasses.”
You sniffled, lips stretching into a wobbly smile. “You’re an idiot.”
He lifted your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Only for you,” he quipped in response, wearing a light-hearted smirk on his lips. “Come here.”
He opened his arms, beckoning you to seek solace in his embrace. You scooted closer, sinking into his broad chest as his arms enveloped you. Your legs were folded awkwardly beneath your body and Finnick’s back ached from the lack of support behind him, but neither of you seemed to mind.
What is love without a little suffering?
His hand stroked the length of your hair, curling random strands between his fingers in admiration. Your fingertips danced across his tanned skin, amorously tracing the words ‘I love you’ over and over. You weren’t sure if he even noticed; it didn’t really matter. The sentiment remained true.
You listened to his heart beating centimetres from your ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. And you were grateful it beat for you. You were so, so grateful for Finnick. For his strong arms that soothed you in their embrace. For his lips that released a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with just a quirk of their corners. For his voice that could lift you from the deepest, darkest pit at any given moment.
So, when you whispered, “Thank you,” it was much more than a show of appreciation for his words of reassurance. It was gratitude for his existence. His entire being. For his love which echoed your own.
“Always,” he whispered in return.
Time began to pass but you remained in the same position—holding each other closely, dearly. And then as more minutes passed, rationality began to set in. You were thinking about apologising for your dramatics, but Finnick had other ideas.
“Wait, did you say your stomach’s cramping?” he asked suddenly. You simply nodded. “Are you on your period?”
Your head turned to bury your face against his chest in embarrassment. “Yes,” your voice muffled into his shirt.
Finnick grinned to himself. He didn’t want to play the stereotype card but knowing that detail helped him understand your actions a little better now.
“Well,” he began, gently coaxing you away from his chest so he could look into your eyes. “How about you come sit with me in the kitchen, hm?” He caressed the line of your cheekbone as he spoke. “I’ll cook you some pancakes and then we can both melt into the couch all day. Does that sound good?”
You pretended to think about it for a moment, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Chocolate chip pancakes?”
He made some noise between a chuckle and a scoff. “Of course. Anything else would be a culinary tragedy.”
“Oh, Finnick Odair,” you proclaimed theatrically, winding your arms around his neck as you pulled yourself further against him. “How I love you so.”
In response, his face lit up with a stupidly lovesick grin. This man will be the absolute death of me, you silently swore. You couldn’t help but lean in and press a soft endearing kiss to each dimple that hollowed his cheeks; doing so only made his smile stretch impossibly wider.
The touch of his deft fingertips settled on the sides of your cheeks, holding your face in his hands like it was his most prized possession—technically, you were. His smile never disappeared as he leaned forward, kissing you with such ardent affection that you were afraid your heart might give out from the consuming potency of his adoration.
It tasted like salt, your tears having now dried on your lips. More importantly, it tasted like love. Warm, sweet, syrupy love.
You pulled away, murmuring against his lips, “You would look hot with a wizard beard, by the way."
He chuckled lightly, sustaining the five-second break before returning to your lips to whisper the words, “I knew it.”
#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair x fem!reader#finnick odair angst#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fanfic#finnick x reader#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#sam claflin#mockingjay part 2#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games fanfic#josh hutcherson#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#katniss everdeen
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Line Without A Hook
Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader
Synopsis: Peeta freaks out when you get hurt in the arena and gets teased for how much he takes care of you (catching fire arena)
Masterlist
Peeta had barely gotten out the words “stay by me” when the cornucopia on the island starting to spin. Tributes flew off and fell into the water as others struggled to grip on to whatever they could.
“It moves?” Finnick shouted to no one in particular as he gripped the first arm he could see through the salt water spray. The arm belonged to Peeta, who looked to his side and panicked when he realized you were no longer there.
“Where did Y/n go?” Peeta shouted over the sound of the waves.
“I think she went over by the weapons.” Finnick shouted back as the dial began to rotate faster. Peeta looked into the center and saw Johanna and Mags struggling to stay aboard but no sign of you.
“Well she’s not there anymore.” Peeta shouted back as his anxiety grew.
“I’m kinda busy here, Peeta. I don’t know where your girlfriend went.” Finnick replied.
“There!” Wiress called and pointed towards one of the arms. Peeta followed her finger and saw you fighting with one of the careers on the edge of a spinning arm. You were winning the fight until another career threw an axe your way and got you right in the rib cage. Peeta just about lost his mind when he saw you go limp and fall into the water. He let go of the center and grabbed the first weapon he could see before sprinting toward where you had been.
“DON’T TOUCH HER.” He shouted as he threw his weapon at the career you had been fighting. It buried in his chest and sent him flying into the water. Peeta then dove into the water and forced his eyes open in an effort to find you. He followed the wavering trail of blood until he found your body floating in the water. By the time he pulled you to the surface, the dial had stopped spinning. Finnick helped him pull you out of the water and tried to give you CPR but Peeta pushed him out of the way. He did chest compressions and mouth to mouth as tears fell from his eyes and onto your face. Finally, your eyes opened and you coughed up some water. Peeta gently rolled you on your side so that you could get it all out and held your hand when you were done.
“Y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peeta asked as he held your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Peeta?” You coughed out.
“I’m here. Are you okay?” He asked again and brushed your wet hair off your face.
“I’m okay. It’s just a knick.” You said and winced from the pain of the wound in your side.
“I watched it happen. It was a lot more than a knick. And you’re still bleeding.”
“It’s fine. I just do that sometimes.” You tried to wave it off but Peeta was not budging.
“Come here. We gotta get you off this thing.” Peeta looked at the cornucopia angrily before carefully lifting you off the ground. He and Finnick brought you back to the beach and helped you lay down on the sand.
“Really. I’m okay.” You tried to assure Peeta once you were on the ground again.
“Let me see how bad it is.” He said and tried to rip your suit around the wound.
“Peeta, I’m fine.” You insisted and pushed his hand away.
“You’re not fine. Just let me see.” He pleaded. You knew he wasn’t gonna let it go so you sighed and unzipped the back of your suit. You’re gingerly rolled it down to your waist, leaving you in the black bikini top you had underneath. It was the least amount of clothing Peeta had ever seen you in so he blushed and adverted his eyes at first.
“How bad is it?” You asked him, making him snap back to the moment. He looked at the wound on your side and relaxed a little when he found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.
“It looks worse than it really is. We just need to get it clean.”
“We?” You raised an eyebrow.
“You took care of me once. And I’m not gonna let you die from infection after everything you’ve survived.”
“But-“
“Just shut up and let me take care of you?” Peeta whined.
“Okay.” You smiled softly. “Fine.”
Peeta returned the smile before carefully picking you up. He walked into the water with you in his arms and went deep enough that the salt water could clean your wound. You winced and arched your back to stay out of the water.
“Sorry. I know it hurts.” Peeta apologized and bent his knees to put you back in the water.
“It really hurts. I want to get out.” You told him and flinched when a wave stung your side.
“Not yet. You have to keep it clean.” Peeta said sympathetically. You gripped his shoulder and hissed in pain as he dunked you in again.
“Look at them.” Finnick snorted and nodded towards you and Peeta.
“You think it’s real?” Johanna asked as she sharpened her axe with another knife.
“What?”
“The whole lovelorn star crossed lovers plot. Think it’s all an act?” Johanna asked as she watched the two of you in the water with the sun beginning to set behind you.
“I used to.” Finnick replied.
“Used to?”
“Yeah. I thought it was an act at first. I think we all did. But that boy loves her.” Finnick said most assuredly.
“Okay. That’s enough.” Peeta decided and carried you back to the shore.
“I can walk.” You chuckled when he continued to carry you up the beach.
“I know.” He said simply and continued carrying you. He gently laid you down by the rest of your group and knelt beside you.
“I need something to cover this.” He realized and looked around but all he saw was sand.
“Can you please get me some leaves from the jungle?” Peeta asked Johanna.
“Get them yourself.” She scoffed.
“I can’t leave her. Please, just help me this once.” Peeta asked again.
“Peeta, it’s okay. Really. You can go.” You assured him by taking his hand and squeezing it. He blushed when you did this and nodded his head.
“I’ll be right back.” He promised before running off into the jungle. He returned shortly after with a couple leaves and water in a coconut shell.
“I got some leaves and water. Can you sit up?”
“Yeah. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation as you painfully sat up. Peeta held the coconut shell to your lips and helped you sip some water before using the leaves to create a bandage for your wound. The sun had set below the horizon at that point and you were definitely ready to go to sleep.
“You can sleep. I’ll keep first watch.” Peeta said as he read your mind. You usually protested and let others sleep first, but you were too tired to do that today.
“Thank you. Wake me up in a few hours so you can sleep too.” You told him as you laid down on the sand. Peeta sat beside you until the morning came and when you woke up, you realized he was in the same exact position as he was when you had fallen asleep.
“Hey.” You said through a yawn that hurt to complete. You winced and touched your side as you tried to sit up. Peeta put a hand on your back to help you sit up and immediately handed you a coconut shell full of water. You smiled graciously at him and drank the whole thing.
“When did you sleep last night?” You asked when you were done.
“I don’t know. Sometimes after-“
“He didn’t.” Finnick cut him off. You looked at Peeta for an explanation and he was red with embarrassment.
“What? You didn’t sleep?” You asked and smacked his arm.
“I tried to take over after I got a few hours but lover boy didn’t let me. He said he needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out.” Finnick continued as he headed towards the water to fish for some breakfast.
“P, you need to sleep. I was fine.” You said and shook his arm.
“I was too. I wasn’t tired.” Peeta replied and you knew he was lying. You gave him a look but he just looked to the side.
“I’m really okay. The salt water helped.” You tried to assure him.
“Oh, yeah. Salt water. We have to keep it clean.” Peeta remembered and stood up. Before you could protest, he scooped you up and carried you to the water. You didn’t complain this time even though it hurt to be in the water. You knew he just needed to take care of you or else he’d lose his mind with worrying. Once he was satisfied, he carried you back to the beach and gently laid you down.
“Are you hungry?” He asked once you were back on the sand.
“I’m all right.” You answered.
“Are you hungry?” Johanna mocked Peeta’s voice in a high pitched manner. You looked at her angrily as Peeta turned red.
“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you do something to help?” He said to her.
“Help how? No one else can get near her because of you. You should’ve seen the way he was watching you last night. I don’t think I ever saw him blink.” Johanna snorted. You looked over at Peeta and he was looking down at his hands with embarrassment. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it endearingly.
“It’s nice that Peeta cares so much. He’s right about infection. A lot of people have died from it in these games before they even realize what’s going on.” You defended him, making him smile at you.
“Oh, give me a break.” Johanna groaned. “Why don’t you two make out some more and get us some sponsors?”
“Yeah. Put on a show so we can eat.” Finnick laughed. Peeta shifted uncomfortably and you felt bad for him. You knew your fake relationship was a sensitive subject for him and now he had to listen to his allies mock it.
“Stop it.” You stated. “We’re not doing that.”
“Please? Just say your vows again in front of the camera. I’m starving.” Johanna whined.
“Then go hunt.” You snapped.
“Come on. What’s the point of being allies with the star crossed lovers if you’re not gonna kiss and get us some parachutes?” Finnick asked with a teasing smile.
“I know. I thought we’d at least get something when Peeta nearly lost his mind after not being able to find you for-what was it- two minutes? I thought his head was gonna explode.” Johanna added on.
“So did I.” Finnick agreed. “If you think about it, we don’t even have to kill the other tributes. Let’s just hide Y/n for a few hours and let Peeta kill everyone while he tries to find her.”
“Leave him alone. No more jokes.” You ordered all while Peeta stayed silently looking out at the waves. Everyone was quiet for a minute and you assumed the jokes were finally done. Peeta looked at you and smiled sadly so you took his hand and squeezed it.
“If they show us how they made that baby, I bet the Capital would send us a feast.” Johanna said to cut the silence. Finnick burst out laughing, making Peeta get up and walk away. You watched him walk into the jungle before looking at Johanna and Mason angrily.
“Look what you did. Why’d you have to tease him?” You asked and smacked Finnicks arm.
“Sorry. Go check on him. Tell loverboy I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Finnick pouted teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him and got up off the floor.
“You guys don’t know him. He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Don’t forget that he won his games.” You said in Peeta’s defense. That left Johanna and Finnick silent as you walked off into the jungle in the direction Peeta had gone in. You found him using the spile to get some more water from you. You weren’t even thirsty from how often he’d been getting you water but you weren’t about to tell him that.
“Hey.” You said as you approached him.
“Hey. I was getting you some water.” Peeta said without looking at you. You could tell he was upset by what the others had been and you hated that you couldn’t even talk about it without the cameras picking it up.
“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the water.
“If you’re hungry, I can go pick some stuff. I know Finnicks been catching a lot of fish so if you need something sweeter, I can try and go find a berry bush.” He offered and still didn’t look in your eyes. You took him face and turned his head so that he had to look at you. He finally looked into your eyes and smiled sadly.
“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “But really, I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.”
“I can. But I appreciate you taking care of me. I just don’t want you to worry about me so much. We all need to be on high alert. I can’t be taking up your thoughts all the time.”
“But you do.” He said with a sad smile. You smiled back before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back and was careful not to put his hands anywhere near your wound.
“I’m sorry they were teasing you.” You said into his ear.
“It’s okay. I deserve it for being so sensitive.”
“I like that you’re sensitive. It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” You told him as you pulled out of the bush but kept your arms around him.
“One of?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I like your banana bread too.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.
“Oh great. She likes my banana bread.” He chuckled. “That’s not one of my qualities.”
“I know. But I think about it all the time. I smell it sometimes in my dreams.”
“I’ll make you some when we go home. Your own loaf.” He promised you.
“I can’t wait.” You said through a sad laugh. You knew there was no possibility of that happening, but it made you happy to imagine anyway.
“Do you think we’ll go home?” Peeta asked after a beat of silence.
“I don’t know. We did last time.”
“Yeah but what are the chances of that happening again?” He said quietly.
“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.
“Me too. That’s why I spend so much time thinking about you.” Peeta replied. You looked into his puppy dog eyes for a while and stayed in comfortable silence. Peeta stared at you and touched your hair to keep himself grounded.
“I killed that guy.” Peeta said suddenly in a quiet voice.
“The one who attacked me?”
“Yeah. Him. I threw an axe at him. I could’ve just punched him but I didn’t. I went for the kill.”
“Why?” You wondered. You weren’t mad, it just wasn’t like Peeta to kill someone.
“Because he attacked you.” Peeta said simply.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you kill.”
“I didn’t either.” He admitted. “Do you think differently of me?”
“No. As long as you don’t try to kill me now that you’ve tasted your first blood.” You joked.
“I would never hurt you.” Peeta said sincerely.
“Oh, I know. I was just kidding.” You assured him.
“I know. I just…I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. I saw that guy put his hands on you and I just lost it. I saw red. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought he was gonna take you from me.” Peeta’s voice cracked on the last part so you pulled him back into a hug. You swayed back and forth and rubbed his back to calm him down.
“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay. You saved me.” You said in his ear.
“I can’t lose you.” He sniffled and hugged you tighter.
“You won’t.”
“I can’t.” He repeated. “So when I’m a pain about keeping your wound clean or drinking some water, please just listen to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”
“Okay. I can do that.” You assured him.
“You better. Because I swear to God, if you die-“
You cut Peeta off by pulling out of the hug to kiss him instead. Peeta stiffened for a moment at the unexpected contact but then melted into the kiss. The kiss didn’t last very long because Peeta got in his head about the motive behind the kiss.
“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” He pulled away to whisper to you.
“I know that.” You said simply and reconnected his lips in a kiss. Peeta cupped your face to keep you close as he kissed you back. His insecurities melted away into the kiss and he let himself believe you really did feel the same.
“Hey, lovebirds. Get a room or join us for breakfast.” Finnick called from the beach. You pulled out of the kiss and rested your forehead against his.
“I wish he’d leave us alone.” Peeta sighed.
“I got this.” You told Peeta and turned to Finnick.
“I thought you wanted to see how we made the baby?” You called back. You could hear Finnick laugh as he walked back to the water to catch more fish. All while Peeta was a blushing mess over what you were implying.
“You hungry?” You asked Peeta once you were alone again.
“Can we just stay here for a while?” He asked you. You smiled and nodded your head to show him you weren’t going anywhere.
“As long as you want.”
#peeta mellark whump#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark fanfic#peeta mellark fanfiction#peeta x reader#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark#the hunger games peeta
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I have this headcanon that Katniss is a very good poet/writer. Her thoughts have always been so poetic, like who the hell calls a boy she fake loves "dandelion in the spring, that means rebirth instead of destruction" like be fr. And at the end of Mockinjay she says something like I make a list in my head of every good thing I've seen someone do.
Post mockingjay she spends her days in the woods writing for hours and hours. It's good therapy for her as well, she writes about Prim, Rue, Cinna, Finnick, Boggs, Peeta's father. Sometimes she writes down her nightmares, fears, the arena, her time in District in 13.
But mostly she writes about Peeta, how she is so afraid of loosing him, and that she's so grateful he came back to her. She writes about how nice it feels to run her fingers through his blonde curls, and his eyelashes oh my eyelashes, miss girly has 5 whole pages dedicated to his eyelashes. She writes about his strong arms, how they ripple when he's kneading dough and how he effortlessly lifts her into his arms like she weighs nothing. She writes and writes and writes.
One day Peeta eyes her notebook curiously, he sees her with it all the time but never has the guts to ask her what's in it. One day he finally gives in and asks her, and Katniss blushes furiously before saying 'just some stuff I wrote'. He asks if he can see it, and she reluctantly hands it to him, it's not that Katniss minds letting him see it, she's just a bit shy. Peeta immediately starts crying right through the first couple pages, Katniss gets all nervous and asks him if she wrote something wrong. He cries even more at that and reassures her that nothings her wrong just that her words are beautiful he can't help it.
When he reaches the more later part of the book, he gets all cheeky and teases her about how badly downn she is for him. She get's all defensive and pretends to get mad and leave. He pouts and apologizes 'I'm sorry birdie, come here'. He wraps his big strong arms around her, carries her upstairs and he makes love to her all night long.
Later he smirks to himself and says 'I can't believe I ever thought that Gale stood a chance'
#everlark#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#katniss and peeta#thg#everlark fanfiction#thg headcanons#thg series#katniss x peeta#katniss head canon#I love this birdie nickname we've come up for Katniss#its canon
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hello lovely!! would u consider writing a peeta x reader, where ur both in the quarter quell, but reader is separated from peeta from the start and goes through mutt attacks/blood rain/jabberjays by herself and when peeta and the group find her on the beach she is injured and traumatised. hurt/comfort, where he looks after her afterwards and comforts her, washes her in the water and stuff? loooads of gentle comfort and fluff. sorry for my bad english!!
Okay I am absolutely obsessed with this request!!!! Omg can’t wait for you to read this!!! Ahhhh! Okay okay I hope you love it 😊
Peeta x reader
(Catching fire)
Requests are open so don’t forget to send them in!!!! Prompts under my profile!
:readmore:
When you woke up the morning of the games in Peetas arms you somehow felt safe. It was like you weren’t being sent to die that day. He kissed your head and told you he’d be by your side.
You had dreamt about the last games, how you were separated and the only reason you survived was because he became allies with those horrible kids from 1 & 2
When you eventually found each other, all you did was help Peeta get better, applied the ointment and comforted him. He did all the killing, he saved you.
You only survived the first half by dumb luck, that spear was supposed to hit you…not Rue. If only you hadn’t moved out the way.
The whole lovers idea was Peetas too, only it was true. Deep down you both knew you’d liked each other since kindergarten back in 12
But here you were in the little glass tube that sucked you straight into hell. You felt sick but you really wanted to throw up when you couldn’t see Peeta.
“Peeta!” You screamed as the countdown started. Sweating and getting panicked. You couldn’t do this again, not without him. You had a deal: stay together.
The games had begun. You needed a weapon. You jumped off the platform into the water swimming for the weapons.
Once you found your feet at the cornucopia, you began to hear screams and watched people start to fall. You grabbed a machete and ran for the jungle on one of the thin arms of rock.
“Peeta!” You screamed from the beach. But no answer. That was when a knife flew past your head and missed by an inch.
You couldn’t kill somebody. So you ran.
You shoved past trees and vines running deep into the jungle.
You found a spot hollowed out under a tree. It was hot- and you needed water.
That was when you heard his voice. Peeta.
You screamed for him as you ran towards the sound.
“Help n/n!” He yelled.
“Where are you!?” You frantically turned around. “Peeta?”
That was until his voice became overwhelming. Your ears started to ring. His cried for help, his screams.
You began to cry, realising this was some cruel trick of the capitol. “STOP IT!” You yelled, throat raw. You screamed as loud as you could covering your ears to get it to stop but it didn’t help. It was overwhelming. You tried to run but a forcefield locked you in. You screamed and banged on it but nothing worked.
You grabbed your machete and banged at the field but it just ricocheted.
You sunk to the floor, covering your ears and cried. You were there for what felt like a decade but was probably only an hour.
When his cries suddenly stopped you felt a strange sense of sadness. The screaming had been awful but you were worried about him. What if he was dead.
You began to walk deeper into the jungle, sweating and with tear stained cheeks. You had never been so thirsty before, after screaming so loudly in what felt like 100 degree heat.
As desperate as you were you stumbled across a little pool of water. You smiled dryly and lay on the floor, drinking out of the pool. A sigh escaped your mouth as you quenched your thirst. You splashed your face. And sat up leaning against a nearby tree.
This is where you would sleep. You gathered sticks and placed them in a circle around the area, to ensure that if someone walked by you would hear them.
The music began to play, you looked up at the sky, holding your pin. Praying you wouldn’t see Peetas face. You didn’t. Relief washed over you as the final canon went off.
You barely slept when you felt a warm air hitting your face, as your eyes opened you were greeted with a large mutt, two inches from your face.
You took a shocked, shaky breath in and slowly reached for your machete. It belted a loud noise sending a signal to the rest of his friends.
You closed your eyes as you wedged the sharp end of your blade into the mutt in-front of you.
You pulled the machete out of its body and stood up. Swinging at any that got a little to close. Just as one of the beasts began to jump at you, you decided the best option was to throw the machete and run.
As the mutt jumped and you released your blade, the woman from 6 who had been hiding in the trees tried to save you. And the machete hit her instead. A scream escaped your lips. You had killed someone.
You covered your mouth with your hands, shaky breaths escaping your lips. “No!” You sobbed.
You bent down to try help her, applying pressure to the wound. “I’m sorry.” You cried as she became limp.
You held her to your chest in the hopes it would cause a miracle.
Soon you noticed the mutts had began to run as a white smoked reached the edge of the water, you stood up, knowing something was coming.
One of their claws ripped the back of your calf open as it ran away. “Shit!” You fell into the smoke, immediately screaming and running.
The sun had started to rise, and you were limping with an excruciating pain in your arms and legs with growing boils from the poison.
You screamed as you ran not caring about attracting other tributes. The sun has begun to rise, and you were now an easy target.
You ran through the jungle searching desperately for the beach but it was so overgrown you had no way of knowing.
You stopped in a small clearing. Crying and sitting in the dirt. Desperately wanting to rid yourself of the boils.
After a while of crying A cool liquid hit your face. Rain. You looked up at the sky, hoping the water would help your sores. Opening your mouth to quench your thirst.
It was definitely not water. You gagged. Spitting onto the dirt. Blood.
You sobbed and ran wherever you could and tripped over a log of wood. Tumbling onto the sand of the beach. 
You screamed and cried. Not knowing what to do. You hated the capitol. You hated that you didn’t know where Peeta was. You hated this. You hated that you had to die.
Just then you heard voices. You put a hand over your mouth trying to quiet your whimpers.
Tears running down your face. You couldn’t run anymore. This was it.
You shuffled back, trying to find and escape route but there wasn’t one.
You got on all fours and crawled on the sand, dragging your leg with a gash in it in the sand.
You let out chokes of pain and self pity as they grew closer, you refused to look.
“N/n!” You heard him…peeta. “Oh my god it’s y/n!!!”
You screamed and covered your ears lying in the sand. You would rather die than listen to the jabberjays again. Until someone rolled you onto your back and you were met with Peeta.
He looked so scared for you. You immediately started to cry as he hugged you tightly to his chest. “You weren’t real.” You sobbed into his chest, feeling his hair, his back, anything to make sure he was there.
“I’m real now. I’m here now.” He kissed your forehead and held you again. Until you hissed when he touched your boils.
“Oh shit! I had them too see-“ he showed you the faint scars on his hands.
“I need to get freshwater.” He began to get up but you held onto his hand. “Don’t leave” you whispered.
He stared at you for a moment too long, his eyes laced with concern.
“Finnick! I need water.” Peeta yelled at the group that was a safe distance away.
While you waited, Peeta brushed hair out of your eyes that was covered in blood and sand, just like the rest of you and you squeezed his arm in pain.
“It’s okay.” He kept repeating. Kissing your head despite your state.
When finnick returned Peeta poured water all over your boils and you screamed in pain as they vanished.
“Thank you.” You smiled sadly. Overwhelmed. Peeta often said you were a kind sole, you wouldn’t hurt a fly at home, literally. You sang songs and picked flowers. You weren’t meant for this. Nobody was really….
“Come on, let’s wash you off…if at least half this blood is yours, we’re in serious trouble.” He joked and you attempted to laugh. He picked you up bridal style.
You would argue that you could do it yourself but it just wasn’t true.
He dipped you into the salt water. You hissed in pain, clutching his wetsuit.
“I know it stings. I’m sorry.” He rubbed your arm but kept you underwater.
“It okay. Thank you.” You whispered again, almost scared something bad would happen like it had been. One after the other. Peeta cupped water into his hand and tilted your head back rinsing the blood out of your hair and carefully brushing through it with his fingers.
He washed you off, holding you with one had at all times. Afraid to let you go. He was careful around your cuts and scrapes.
“I killed her.” You let out, staring at nothing.
He stopped his movements and just helped you too his chest.
“Who?” He whispered.
“Six… she tried to save me and-“ you chocked on your tears.
“Hey hey hey, it’s okay…I’m here. You don’t have to talk about it now.” He assured.
You were both wrinkly like the raisins Peeta used in his raisin bread back home by the time you got out the water.
You tried to walk but you could barely stand on your right foot.
“What happened?” Finnick asked before Peeta got the chance.
“Mutts.” You answered simply, trying to see the gash on the back of your calf.
You almost fell but Peeta caught you. He picked you up agin and placed you on the leaves they were using as beds in the sand tonight.
“Now we match.” Peeta smiled at you pulling up the leg of his wetsuit to reveal his prosthetic leg.
You laughed, for the first time in days.
The others were asleep while Peeta took the first watch. You sat in his lap, and wrapped your legs around his torso, like a koala.
Head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he leaned against a tree looking at the waves.
“I thought I lost you.” He whispered, a tear running down his face. You sat up slightly to wipe it. “Me too.” You assured and squeezed his hand.
“So much for sticking together.” He half laughed.
“Yeah.” You looked at his brown eyes and played with his blonde fringe. He leaned in and Kissed you gently but passionately. Holding your cheek and pulling you in by your back. Carefully avoiding your right leg that was tediously bandaged with leaves and vines.
When you broke apart for air. You smiled softly at each other. Heart still heavy from the past two days.
“I love you n/n.” He spoke with only truth in his tone. It wasn’t just an act and you knew that.
“I love you too…so much.” You teared up thinking about how you were going to have to say goodbye soon.
You resumed your position on his chest and fell asleep to his hand rubbing your back and his whispers of “it’s okay.” And “I love you.”
#y/n#peeta supremacy#peeta my beloved#peeta mellark#team peeta#thg peeta#peeta mellark x reader#peeta x reader#the hunger games peeta#i love peeta#the hunger games#catching fire#thg#thg fanfiction#finnick odair#hunger games#may the odds be ever in your favor#the capitol#panem
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#fanfiction#avengers#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#marvel cinematic universe x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#avengers fanfiction#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#natasha x reader#dark danny x reader#daryl dixon x reader#danny phantom fanfiction#daryl dixon#the walking dead fanfiction#danny phantom x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#thg series#peeta mellark
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