fayetape

[fayetape]

Flame by Fayetape - Chapter 3: Ballad

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1056

CW: Suggestions prostitut10n, angst, death themes.

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a shoot needing. Whatever that might look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N

Authors note: Heyyy all sorry for the little break! I’ve been so busy with school and work. But I’m back! This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute, ooooppps(?) As always, open to kind and constructive criticism! Enjoy!

It would be weeks before he came back to district four. When he finally did, he was incredibly happy to see her. She was the first person he ran to as soon as he got some freedom. He hugged her so tight she thought he might suffocate her half to death. He was finally home. For a short while, things felt like they were falling back into normalcy. This fleeting sense left the more time she would spend with Finnick. He was a lot quieter. He would engage in conversations, but would keep them short. Still, they stayed together, even if it was in silence. Finnick grew cockier as the months went on. Spouting off arrogant comments towards the people of district four and whoever he came across. She found his new attitude insensitive and hurtful, yet she stayed with him. She tried to understand what it would feel like to be the winner of the games. Of course it would change a person. There would be moments where the Finnick she knew would come out. Only when things were quiet and the world felt still would he act like his sweet and playful self. Over time his usual demeanors became rare. Still, they would date for two whole years. What ended the relationship was his frequent trips to the capitol. He wouldn’t speak much on it except for boasting about fancy parties and art exhibits that he had the luxury of attending. She would listen, but the paranoia in her head eventually got to be too much. She was convinced he was cheating on her. He would often come back with mysterious bruises on his neck that he would brush off as an accident. Finnick always got snappy anytime these marks were brought up. How could she think anything else but cheating? They were both young and immature. After many intense arguments, and sleepless nights, the couple broke up and never spoke again. The field would be empty of the two of them forever.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was her last reaping day ever. If she could make it past today, she would finally be able to rest. These days she didn’t see much of Finnick, which certainly eased her nerves. She dated other boys and broke up with them. When she and Finnick would inevitably cross paths, they would both avoid eye contact. When he would come by her job at the local market she would pretend not to know him and make the usual casual small talk like she would with every customer, just a little less enthusiastically. She tried her best to keep her gaze from falling to the counter and suppress the awkward shake in her voice. He would do the same, sometimes catching himself starting to stare into her eyes. She would ignore his attempts at contact, he wouldn’t try again. Every reaping day she thought of him and every reaping day he was nowhere to be found. Even on her last reaping, he was gone. I guess she couldn’t expect much else. They hadn’t been friends for years. Maybe after today she could finally start to find some sense of peace. Escape from the haunting thoughts of what Finnick experienced or what could have been, escape from her own fear. Freedom. Ready to put the reapings behind her. Her mom laid out a dress for her like she did every year. This year's dress was a burnt orange color. The girl was still anxious, there was still a chance she could get reaped, in fact it was higher than ever. But she made it this far. She headed off to the town with a nervous determination to survive this last blood draw. The scene is nothing more than it always is. Crying families, scared first-years, intimidating peacekeepers lined up and a stage. It was boring at this point. She would still find it horrifying even if she had played this game for a hundred years. The system was cruel, but she could dissociate from it enough. A mic screams and buzzes as it connects to the speakers. The same woman who comes by every year in her ridiculous outfits entered the stage. The chatter and distress of the crowd became tense and silent.

“Welcome everyone to the seventy-first annual reapings”

Her tone was joyful in a way that sounded sardonic. She spoke on the previous games and her “wonderful excitement” for the next games. The usual dialogue of brain-dead capitol celebrities.

“Without further ado, we shall now announce the female tribute for this year’s Hunger Games,” She smiled.

The girl’s heart raced. Just have to get through this one more time. One more time.

“Y/N L/N! Come up on stage dear!”

The crowd went silent. She looked around. Many looked relieved for themselves or staring in a state of shock. She felt like she was going to pass out. Her head went foggy and her mind went blank. Fingers turned cold and face went pale. She wondered if there was a consequence for passing out. Would they drag her limp body up on stage? Would they punish her? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted.

“Don’t be shy! Come up here, love!”

Shaking, she walked towards the stage. The world was spinning. Was it? Or was she? Her senses sharpened. She could hear the subtle squeak of the wood beneath her feet as she stepped up on stage. Eyes wide, she looked around the crowd for someone to help her, but no one did.

“And the male tribute is…” the woman announced, “Clement Almas!”

A twelve year old boy. She had always seen him while working at the market. A few years back she had snuck a couple pieces of caramel candy into his shopping bag before she got in trouble for it. The boy lived with his grandmother with his parents nowhere to be found. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. There was some rumbling of the crowd and some muffled announcements before she was whisked away by the peacekeepers. They gave her about three minutes to say goodbye to her mother before she was thrown on a train and taken to the capitol. Nothing and everything all at once raced through her head. She felt so overwhelmingly empty. The train rumbled and shrieked. This was the end of her life.

[fayetape]

Little aesthetic board for the last two chapters :)

[fayetape]

Flame by Fayetape - Chapter 2: The Games

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1446

CW: Early Sexualization of Finnick, angst, death, very minor gore.

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Authors note: Time jump coming next chapter!! Thank you guys for reading my first ever series :) Open to kind & constructive criticism. Hope u enjoy -Faye

Hugging her knees into her chest she sat on the hardwood floors of her living room watching the light move through the gossamer curtains. She watched the light move like ocean waves towards her and away. Tomorrow was Finnick's games. Sixty fifth fucking annual hunger games. The more she thought about it the angrier she grew. She could physically feel herself moving through the stages of grief rapidly. Denial. Anger. Angry at the capitol. Angry at the crowd. Nobody volunteered for him. Angry at Finnick. He left her. She knew it was stupid, he couldn’t help it. Bargaining and depression. Acceptance. Finnick was going to die. She was going to be alone again.

Her mother turned on the TV. An old boxy television with a blurred screen. It glitched and flashed black and white static before making out a blurry figure of the one and only Caesar Flickerman. She watched as he danced around the stage happily. Sparkling blue hair moving across the screen. It pissed her off even more. Seeing someone so happy interviewing these people as they’re being put to death. Seeing these people act so cocky as if they’re going to win. She knew at least a handful of them would get their hands on Finnick in some way. She was seething. A district three girl walked on stage wearing a chrome and bright teal accented dress. She looked as ridiculous as the announcer lady at the reaping. Y/N rolled her eyes. The girl bragged about how intelligent she is and how she came from a rich family. She would get a good amount of sponsors. Caesar kissed her hand and sent her off stage before announcing,

“Next up! Finnick Odair!” he laughed, “Come out here, boy!”

Finnick walked confidently out onto the stage putting his hand up to give a quick wave to the audience before sitting down.

“So Finnick, what makes you think you can win the games?” he asked without introduction.

“Think?” Finnick laughed, “Caesar I KNOW I can win the games. It's more about how I decide to win.”

This confidence was so unlike him. He had always been secure in himself, but not like this. Must have been a front.

“And how's that?” Caesar asked.

“Well it would be stupid of me to give that away now wouldn’t it? Let’s just say I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

Caesar grabbed a hold on Finnick’s sleeve. He was dressed in what looked to be a sailor or pirate look. Long, flowy white shirt and pants with a thick brown corset belt separating the two fabrics. He was wrapped in heavy fisherman's rope that looked crystalized, like it had been in the ocean too long.

“Oh and how we would love to see what’s up these sleeves!” Caesar flirted.

Disgusting. She could tell Finnick was uneasy, reading his microexpressions. Finnick just laughed.

“Well Finnick, we already know you have a good shot at winning. What’s the first thing you’re doing as soon as you get home?”

Her eyes lit up. Home.

“Well first, I’m gonna do the victory tour of course. Then I’ll see my friends and family. Maybe I’ll buy them all a new house with all the money I’ll earn.”

“You really are confident in your win, Odair!”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve spent my childhood training for these games. Even if I didn’t get reaped I was going to volunteer anyway.”

The crowd gasped.

“Volunteer?”

“I’m here to win Caesar. Whatever it takes. I’m good with weapons, archery, in hand to hand, good in water-”

Caesar cut him off, “Are you good in bed?” He chuckled, “Only kidding of course. We’ll wait until you’re eighteen.”

What the hell?

Finnick just smiled, “Well I’ll look forward to it.” Finnick looked out at the crowd and winked.

“Finnick Odair everyone!”

The crowd cheered. What the hell was that? He exited the stage with a sly smile. That wasn’t like him at all. Why was Caesar being so… suggestive?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Her mother woke her up early to get ready to go to the town. Mandatory watch day. She cried and clung to her bed. Denial. Bargaining. Anger. Depression. She sat up. Feet dangling off the foot of her bed. She threw on a light blue plaid day dress. Observing closely she could see light tea colored stains splattered on the hem of the skirt. Another day where she and Finnick explored the fields. She looked down sadly and headed outside. Once again bypassing her mother. Walking towards the field filled her with so much emotion. Anger. Depression. Anger. She started running towards the field as if she would start to fly. But she didn’t. Once out of breath she collapsed onto the dirt, hugging her knees into her chest once again, breathing heavily. The view of the horizon was blurred from the tears welling in her eyes. She aggressively tore out the roots of grass surrounding her, making quiet ripping sounds and marking her hands with green. Putting a hand over her own mouth she screamed a muffled cry. She sat for a few more minutes staring out in the distance before heading back to town. Her mother caught her half way towards the screening. She didn’t question her, knowing how much pain this poor girl must be in. They took their seats. Old lawn chairs and some fancier recliners. Peacekeepers lined the town. After what felt like forever, the games began.

The camera panned around the arena. First thing she noticed was Finnick. He was dressed in all black. Plain black t shirt, plain black cargos. She recognized the outfit from his limited wardrobe. The arena could have been beautiful if it didn’t have the implications of a bloodbath. Rocky, forested mountains that drop down to a rocky beach. Mountain mist coated the surface of the trees. The tributes were lined in a circle near the cliff’s edge.

And in 5

4

3

2

1… The tributes all raced towards the center to get ahold of all sorts of deadly weapons and survival kits. Finnick sprinted towards the center and grabbed a backpack and a spear, fighting off a dark haired boy from district 8. She couldn’t watch the gore. All she wanted to know was if he was alive. She kept her eyes gazing at the side of the screen so not to witness the destruction while not looking down.

=-=-=-=-=-=

The cannons sounded out the tributes dead. Seven. Finnick had found a hole deep in the woods. He stacked leaves and rocks on top of his makeshift fort to keep himself hidden as he rested for the night. During the first few days he managed to fight off five tributes that earned him a gash across his nose and cheek. It’s been four days already. His sponsors have spoiled him with expensive gifts from french bread to designer medicine. He never wanted for anything. He was quite comfortable. The other tributes haven’t realized how deadly he had been. They seem to be more concerned with the older career packs. This gave him an advantage like no other. He took on the role of being a deadly force hidden in plain sight. Finnick wasn’t one to make allies. He knew that he would form an attachment. He recognized that he could lose sponsors if he gave up his “tough-guy act” and the loss of sponsors could be fatal for him.

He was one of the last alive. Day six he woke up to an expensive gift from one of his sponsors. A trident. It was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen in person. Prettier than any jewel at the market or pearl he had caught. He couldn’t imagine what it must have cost. He tried not to think about it. Day eight he traveled to the top of the rocky mountain near the cliff side. Over the days he had weaved a net out of vines that he held up with tree branches. Weaving the net almost made him feel at home, sitting on the pier teaching the locals how to braid a fisher line. There were four tributes left including himself. He planned to lure the rest onto the cliff, capture them in his net and use his shiny new gift to finish them off. He used himself as bait, standing on the cliff pretending to be oblivious to his surroundings. Then they fall into the net where they meet their death. He tried not to think about death. He tried not to think about guilt. In a matter of hours, Finnick Odair was crowned the youngest victor of the Hunger Games.

[fayetape]

“Flame” by Fayetape

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1854

CW: Angst, typical THG stuff

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Important note: The reader starts out very young but there is a time skip, don’t worry!

Hey everyone! My name is Faye. This is my first story I’ve ever published on here. I’m very new to this. This is the first part of my series “Flame” I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave any constructive criticism or suggestions in the comments :)

Chapter One: Promises

A short white dress was displayed on her twin-sized mattress. The dress was beautiful. White and lacy. Tied with small, delicate ribbons on the shoulders and in the middle of the chest. Any other day she would have been delighted to have found such a gift. She knew what it meant. Reaping day. Her first one too. All the people of district four get dressed up in their sunday-best to be forced to watch as two of their children ages 12-18 get sent off to the games, almost certain to die. This time her life was part of the draw. She had no other choice but to put on the dress. Against her own will she kept thinking about this process as if it was one of her last times ever to do such a simple thing. Last time undressing. Last time tying a ribbon. She sighed anxiously and put on a pair of white tights and black buckle mary-janes. It felt like she was preparing herself to die or dressing herself up for her own funeral. She heard the sizzle and cracks of her mom cooking in the kitchen. Her mother had been quiet lately. She had a thought. It’s because she knows her daughter has a chance to be taken from her, even when her daughter is all she has, the capitol spares no mercy. Disturbed by these thoughts, the girl walked past her mother without saying a word, only exchanging a sullen glance as she turned the handle of the front door.

“Y/N! Hey!” a recognizable voice yelled in the distance.

“Finnick! Hi.” She was excited to see him, but today there could only be but so much happiness in her voice.

He walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder, “I like your dress.”

She didn’t say anything in response.

“Look, I know today is scary, but your name is only in that bowl once out of hundreds of other slips. You’re gonna be fine.”

Finnick was older. He had already gone through the horrors of being part of the reaping for two years now. He knew how to navigate it, at least more than she did. He took upon himself some unassigned duty to protect her from the moment they met. This was the one thing he couldn’t shield her from and it made him feel unsettled. The very least he could do is be realistic and try his best to console her. He looked down at her. She was still quiet. He let go of her shoulder and held her hand. He stroked her hand with his thumb and led her into a nearby field. They would go here when things got hard. Not that they would talk about it much. Not many people knew about it or dared to explore it. Technically it was off-bounds to district four and they knew they could get in a lot of trouble with the peacekeepers. Regardless, they both agreed that a little bit of risk was healthy. He checked in all directions to make sure nobody was watching before he reached ahead to pull branches aside to clear a path. The landscape never failed to hypnotize them. A luscious field with an array of diverse greenery and wildflowers sloping down a hill to the marsh. The sound of light wind blowing through the grass and the small creek bubbling instantly calmed their nerves. Even Finnicks, as much as he tried to hide his fear.

They pushed through the tall grass onto the path they carved out several years ago. Walking until they got to the bottom of the tall, gentle hill. He always loved the water. He let go of her hand and he sat down on the damp ground. He shot her a glance proposing her to sit down.

“I don’t want to get my dress dirty.”

“You mean your MOM doesn’t want you to get your dress dirty. Since when did you care about dirt?”

He was right. She lifted up the skirt of her dress and sat down on a patch of grass that looked cleaner than the rest.

He looked over at her, a few feet away, “Not gonna dare to get any closer, huh?” He always flirted like this. Bold enough to get her attention, but sly enough to give her plausible deniability.

“Today is the one day I can’t get messy. Tomorrow I’ll take more of a risk, okay?”

He laughed, “See? You do know that it is going to be okay!”

“What?”

“You said tomorrow. You know deep down that it’s gonna be fine.”

She rolled her eyes, “I just forgot about it for a second..”

That was good enough for him. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the bugs and frogs in the marsh.

“Hey,” he said.

“I’m not moving closer.”

“Fine.” He scooted closer to her.

Instinctively she put her head on his shoulder. He smiled.

“Finn? Can you promise me something?”

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll always take care of me like this ?”

“Yes.” He said without any hesitation.

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she said.

“I promise. You know I’ll always take care of you. I won’t leave you alone, love.”

After that she just stared at him for a while, “Okay,” she said and looked back at the morning sky.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice.

She looked over at him and he nervously grabbed her chin and pulled her in. She didn’t resist. The two stared at each other with their faces so close before he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips before letting go.

They sat in silence for a bit. “Was that okay?” He asked nervously.

Through slightly labored breath she said, “Yeah. Of course.”

He smiled, “Was I your first?”

“No,” She giggled playfully.

Matching her demeanor, “Yeah right.”

“How would you know? Maybe I kissed that boy on Dove Street.”

“You don’t even know his name!” He exclaimed, “Plus I worked my ass off to keep those dumbass neighborhood boys

off of you.”

“Yeah whatever!” She said and swept sand onto his lap.

He dramatically put his hand over his chest, “How could you!” and splashed dirty water in her direction.

“Finnick!”

“You started it!” It was too

late, her dress was already muddied. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Sorry. Was that not okay?” he asked her.

“No. No. It’s okay,” she paused, “Are we dating?”

He laughed at her innocence. “If that’s what you want.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then,” he confirmed.

Just as he was about to kiss her again, they heard the sound of the warning bell.

“Shit.” He pulled her up and they ran back up the hill away towards their town.

Once they got out of the field they ran their separate ways towards their houses, breathlessly exchanging goodbye glances.

Panting and sweating she ran across the railroad tracks towards her small house. Slowing down once she could see the white paint chipping off the frame. She heard the front screen door slam shut.

“Where have you been?” Her mother yelled, “What the hell happened to your dress?”

Catching her breath she tried to find a believable excuse. Before she could explain her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.

“Were you with that boy again? He’s so disrespectful.”

Her mother was always one to hold a grudge. She couldn’t let go of the time that Finnick purposely broke one of her daughter’s toys when they were younger. Ever since then she thought of him as a bully, even though he was only eight at the time and wasn’t trying to be malicious.

“No,” She tried lying.

Her mother didn’t say anything in response and just continued to wipe down her dress with a wet rag.

Her mother smoothed out her dress, “Come on. Let’s go.”

They hurried their way to the town square.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

They separated and she was pushed forward by the peacekeepers before she could even look back. They pricked her finger and checked her into the drawing system. Her throat burned and there was suddenly a deeper hole of anxiety in her chest. Reality was setting in. Her eyes darted across the space searching for Finnick. Panicking when she couldn’t find him.

“Hey,” He said on the other side of the barrier.

Her shoulders untensed ever so slightly. She smiled at him.

The chatter of the crowd stopped as the stage microphone rang out ear piercing frequencies.

“Ahem,” the announcer decorated in a ridiculous, loud purple dress spoke, “Welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games!”

As if waiting for an applause the woman paused, “Alright then. We won’t waste anymore time here.”

She dipped her hand into the bowl swirling the strips of paper. “And the female tribute for the 65th annual Hunger Games iss…”

The girl held her breath. Feeling like she was going to faint or die right then and there.

“Julianne Halmbern!” the crowd gasped.

The pit in the girl's stomach disappeared for a split second. Not her this year. Then it set in. A girl who lived on the poorer side of the district. She hardly knew her but she still felt sickenly guilty for being relieved. Another person she knew would be sent to almost certain death. She watched as the crowd parted, making a path for the poor blonde girl, Julianne. She was stiff in fear and disbelief as she was guided up on stage.

“And the male tribute iss…”

“Finnick Odair!” The announcer exclaimed as if she had just announced the lottery.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. No. No. The crowd parted and revealed sweet Finnick. She watched his every move. She watched as he stood there in utter shock, then as he took small steps up to the stage.

“Finnick!” she cried out.

The peacekeepers were getting impatient as they ushered him to the front. “It’s okay!” he yelled out to her.

She wanted to run to him. The older girl next to her noticed her expression and held her arm protectively preventing her from charging the boy. “Finnick!”

He stepped onto the stage, hiding tears in his eyes as she yelped out for him. He thought the sound of her screams was more disturbing than getting chosen like this. Even in this moment he felt the need to console her. Before the woman in the obnoxious dress could say anything else he yelled, “Y/N! I promise! Okay? I promise!”

She nodded through her sobs. She knew he was promising to make it back to her. He vowed not to leave her alone. She tried her best to believe him. To trust him. Her thoughts raced. He was a career. He trained for this. He’s going to be okay. No. He’s fourteen. He can’t. I can’t- No. She cried harder.

And they took him away.