you're not easy to love, no (The Hunger Games, PG-13)
You’re not easy to love, no (five fucked up relationships, courtesy the Capitol)
Pairings: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy/Maysilee Donner, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason/Gale Hawthorne, Prim Everdeen/Rory Hawthorne.
AN: Hunger Games is Suzanne Collins' because I personally ADORE Finnick. Title/lyrics all either from Rihanna's Loud or Rated R. Mainly canon through the whole series (read: spoilers), I just took slight liberties and assumptions and twisted Haymitch's words a bit.
1. you could have been part of a masterpiece, fluid in the breaks was the last to leak
It is Annie Cresta’s first reaping. There are three slips with her name on them in careful script: one tessera each for her mother and herself. The braid in her hair pulls at her scalp and is giving her a headache; her mother’s nervous fingers twisted the strands too tightly.
She doesn’t remember the name of the girl tribute that year, only that she is not Annie Cresta. Hobie Irish, the 13 year old down the street who walks with her to school, is the boy tribute. Annie’s breath catches-and then there is a volunteer.
She knows Finnick Odair from school, but not well; he’s loud and the girls whisper about him. She doesn’t particular care about Odair, and she’s happy Hobie isn’t going-but still: he stands up there and she knows that he is beautiful and cocky and fatally wrong. Something in her stomach turns, and she looks down at the ground, tugging her braid loose.
2. then we danced underneath the candelabra, she takes the lead
These are the things Haymitch Abernathy knows: there are 48 tributes this year. District 12 has not has a victor since the 17th Games. The four of them, three Seam, one Town, are not even half as well-fed as the smallest girl from District 1. Maysilee Donner is beautiful and just as certainly dead as the rest of them.
He takes her hand on the train when nobody’s looking; he knows it doesn’t matter. She humors him, squeezing back like it does.
“You could win,” she tells him. He hates her for this.
“I couldn’t,” he says. He doesn’t tell her she could. He won’t lie to her.
Her hand is warm like praying in his, he thinks.
3. in this California king bed, we’re ten thousand miles apart.
Katniss doesn’t love him, but she is alive. She will never love him, but she will always need him. That was his goal; that he is alive and with her, in any capacity, is a bonus.
He wishes he were as good as they all think he is. He does not: hate Katniss, hate Gale, smash his fist against the wall. He does: stroke her hair through the nightmares, happy as she screams because he is the only one she trusts with this.
It makes him sick: they are together constantly. They kiss and they touch and they stay alive together. But at night, when she screams, lost somewhere in her mind-that’s the closest he gets.
4. and it’s sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied
Johanna pushes Gale against the wall; he kisses her, rough, breaking only when she pulls the shirt over his head.
“Like what you see?” He raises an eyebrow, cockily, grabs at her breast like it’s his to grab-it is a poor imitation. She shrugs, yanking his pants down in one swift movement.
“You’re not like him,” she whispers, almost mockingly, breath hot against his lips.
“And you’re not her,” he tugs at her hips, fitting them against his. “She’s good,” he bites her earlobe. It doesn’t sting like it should.
“And she picked him,” she says, rough and low and dirty. “She needs him. Not you.”
“He’s dead,” Gale’s arm wraps around her waist, too tight. “He’s dead and she’s crazy and they still don’t need you.” Johanna pulls back, shoving again.
“Don’t talk about Annie,” she says sharply. She takes his nipple between her thumb and forefinger, twisting hard. “You’re so fucking young.”
“I’m here,” he retorts.
She kisses him.
5. he says, close your eyes, sometimes it helps
Prim watches her sister almost die. And then she watches her almost die again. And again.
She watches her thirst. She watches her hunt. She watches the others, too, and watches for all the things Katniss can’t possibly know.
She watches Peeta, too. Watches him lie and spin stories and save her sister and she thinks-he wouldn’t have to do that, if it were me.
They have been in the arena for one week and three days: Prim would not have lasted that long. She thinks maybe it would be better-over. She is still watching Katniss die, and it raises something awful in the pit of her stomach.
After girl from Two dies, Rory takes her out behind the house and kisses her ‘til she stops shaking. She kisses back because what else? She doesn’t blush. They pull away. Rory goes to find Gale in the forest. Prim milks her goat. He takes her hand later as they watch her sister hide from death.
She feels old. She hopes this doesn’t upset Katniss if she comes home.
Pairings: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy/Maysilee Donner, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason/Gale Hawthorne, Prim Everdeen/Rory Hawthorne.
AN: Hunger Games is Suzanne Collins' because I personally ADORE Finnick. Title/lyrics all either from Rihanna's Loud or Rated R. Mainly canon through the whole series (read: spoilers), I just took slight liberties and assumptions and twisted Haymitch's words a bit.
1. you could have been part of a masterpiece, fluid in the breaks was the last to leak
It is Annie Cresta’s first reaping. There are three slips with her name on them in careful script: one tessera each for her mother and herself. The braid in her hair pulls at her scalp and is giving her a headache; her mother’s nervous fingers twisted the strands too tightly.
She doesn’t remember the name of the girl tribute that year, only that she is not Annie Cresta. Hobie Irish, the 13 year old down the street who walks with her to school, is the boy tribute. Annie’s breath catches-and then there is a volunteer.
She knows Finnick Odair from school, but not well; he’s loud and the girls whisper about him. She doesn’t particular care about Odair, and she’s happy Hobie isn’t going-but still: he stands up there and she knows that he is beautiful and cocky and fatally wrong. Something in her stomach turns, and she looks down at the ground, tugging her braid loose.
2. then we danced underneath the candelabra, she takes the lead
These are the things Haymitch Abernathy knows: there are 48 tributes this year. District 12 has not has a victor since the 17th Games. The four of them, three Seam, one Town, are not even half as well-fed as the smallest girl from District 1. Maysilee Donner is beautiful and just as certainly dead as the rest of them.
He takes her hand on the train when nobody’s looking; he knows it doesn’t matter. She humors him, squeezing back like it does.
“You could win,” she tells him. He hates her for this.
“I couldn’t,” he says. He doesn’t tell her she could. He won’t lie to her.
Her hand is warm like praying in his, he thinks.
3. in this California king bed, we’re ten thousand miles apart.
Katniss doesn’t love him, but she is alive. She will never love him, but she will always need him. That was his goal; that he is alive and with her, in any capacity, is a bonus.
He wishes he were as good as they all think he is. He does not: hate Katniss, hate Gale, smash his fist against the wall. He does: stroke her hair through the nightmares, happy as she screams because he is the only one she trusts with this.
It makes him sick: they are together constantly. They kiss and they touch and they stay alive together. But at night, when she screams, lost somewhere in her mind-that’s the closest he gets.
4. and it’s sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied
Johanna pushes Gale against the wall; he kisses her, rough, breaking only when she pulls the shirt over his head.
“Like what you see?” He raises an eyebrow, cockily, grabs at her breast like it’s his to grab-it is a poor imitation. She shrugs, yanking his pants down in one swift movement.
“You’re not like him,” she whispers, almost mockingly, breath hot against his lips.
“And you’re not her,” he tugs at her hips, fitting them against his. “She’s good,” he bites her earlobe. It doesn’t sting like it should.
“And she picked him,” she says, rough and low and dirty. “She needs him. Not you.”
“He’s dead,” Gale’s arm wraps around her waist, too tight. “He’s dead and she’s crazy and they still don’t need you.” Johanna pulls back, shoving again.
“Don’t talk about Annie,” she says sharply. She takes his nipple between her thumb and forefinger, twisting hard. “You’re so fucking young.”
“I’m here,” he retorts.
She kisses him.
5. he says, close your eyes, sometimes it helps
Prim watches her sister almost die. And then she watches her almost die again. And again.
She watches her thirst. She watches her hunt. She watches the others, too, and watches for all the things Katniss can’t possibly know.
She watches Peeta, too. Watches him lie and spin stories and save her sister and she thinks-he wouldn’t have to do that, if it were me.
They have been in the arena for one week and three days: Prim would not have lasted that long. She thinks maybe it would be better-over. She is still watching Katniss die, and it raises something awful in the pit of her stomach.
After girl from Two dies, Rory takes her out behind the house and kisses her ‘til she stops shaking. She kisses back because what else? She doesn’t blush. They pull away. Rory goes to find Gale in the forest. Prim milks her goat. He takes her hand later as they watch her sister hide from death.
She feels old. She hopes this doesn’t upset Katniss if she comes home.