mxgcalvi

[mxgcalvi]

dress

“even in my worst times, you could see the best of me”

pairing: cam cameron x fem!reader

summary: in which you and cam have hated each other for as long as you can remember. but what if that hatred wasn’t actually what you thought it was.

warnings: fluff, angst (a little idk), enemies to lovers, lmk if i should add more, not edited

a/n: FINALLY i’m back yall!! i’ll probably disappear for like another few months again but i really had to post this one bc there aren’t enough fics for my bae cam 🫶🏼 and my requests are open!! i don’t want my work copied, translated and/or posted on another platform without it being discussed with me.

my masterlist

Inhale. Exhale.

The nerves were flooding in as you waited for your turn to be ‘presented to society’. Being a debutant and actually participating in the stuff you found nonsense at first was the last thing you expected you’d be doing this summer. What you didn’t expect in a million years either, was falling for the one you sworn you hated with every single part of you.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it began, but it hit you hard when you heard that Belly broke up with Cam. Thoughts of the two of you being together flooded your mind, and though you tried to push them away, they lingered.

Instead of pursuing these thoughts, you distanced yourself from Cam, which turned out to be more difficult than expected since he seemed to be everywhere you were.

Cam was taken aback by your sudden distance. Although you both disliked each other, you never missed the opportunity to bicker. Now, whenever he tried to engage, you either ignored him or replied formally without any insults.

And if Cam had to be honest, it made him feel this pain in his chest. Especially when you started to hangout him with this guy you had met at the bonfire. The same guy you befriended to try to forget Cam. And also the same guy who was your escort to the debutant ball.

Cam tried to come up with reasons for your distance, and one day, he found himself standing in front of your house. Cam wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do, but he was determined to see you. His heart skipped a beat when he made it to the porch and he halted in front of the door, taking a deep breath in.

He was about to knock, when a thought jumped into his head.

You were scrolling on your phone, trying everything to get Cam out of your head. But everything you saw reminded him of you. You even came past a video of whales and wanted to scream out loud. Why was your phone working against you?

A knock on your window interrupted your furious thoughts and confusion washed over you. You don’t remember meeting up with anyone, or telling someone to come by your window. Scared that it might be a burglar, you grabbed the first object you saw to use as a weapon. However, when you opened your window, the last person you expected was in front of you, heavily panting. “Cameron?” You questioned, lowering your weapon since there wasn’t an actual real threat.

“Hi.” He simply greeted with a grin, before climbing into your room. He stood way too close to you, making your breath hitch as he dusted himself off. But you weren’t going to let him notice what kind of effect he had on you, so the best you could do is just bicker like you used to to mask it.

“What are you doing here? Trying to rob me or something?” You asked as you took a few steps back, “‘Cause I’m not afraid to use this!” You showed the bedside table lamp in your hands.

“Calm down, Y/l/n,” He chuckled as he put his hand on your arm to lower it, and you just allowed him to do so. You felt yourself relax at the warmth and touch of his hand and mentally cursed yourself for this. He liked at you with a small smile, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Cam’s hand lingered on your arm, before he cleared his throat and quickly removed it. Around everyone, he was always shy and reserved, but with you it was different. You brought out some confidence in him he never knew he had. And Cam never understood why, but with you, he felt at ease and weirdly enough, safe. Whenever he even looked in your direction, his worries would vanish as if they never existed.

Cam walked past you slowly and looked around your room. He tried to memorise every object on your desk, every little detail in your room. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asked, throwing his head over his shoulder to look at you. You were standing there at loss for words, trying to come up with a good excuse. He nodded to himself when you didn’t answer before continuing his walk around your room.

“I should be asking you the questions! Why are you in my room, Sextus?” You crossed your arms over chest and watched him let out a laugh at the name you called him. The sound made you burst of out happiness, but you weren’t planning on showing.

“Please, Ceres, be honest with me…” He started walking back towards you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he remembered the name you used at the latin convention made your heart skip a beat. “Why would I?” You said with a loud huff and you turned your head to the side with your eyes closed.

When you opened your eyes, Cam’s face was only an inch from yours, and you felt your guard fall down. It would’ve been so much easier if Cam didn’t have this effect on you. Your face fell. “Stop.” You mumbled, inaudible for him to hear.

“What was that?” He inquired genuinely, getting even closer if that was even possible. “Stop!” You spoke out louder, making him jump out of his skin, but soft enough for it to be a whisper. “Stop what?” Cam asked curiously. You stared into his eyes, trying to find something, think of something to make you hate him again. But as you looked into his deep eyes, all you could think about what you could be, as something else than enemies.

You looked at the ground in defeat, before continuing, “I’m trying so hard, Cameron, so hard.”

Cam was quiet as he looked at you with a confused look on his face, and he wanted you to tell him everything that was on your mind. When you looked up at him, Cam noticed that there was something else in your eyes. Something else than what he usually saw, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. “Cameron, I’m trying so hard not to hate you.” You whispered.

Cam’s heart was pounding out of his chest, while he was looking at you with his mouth agape ever so slightly. He hoped your words meant what he thought they meant, and his hand reached for yours.

A yell of your name woke both you and Cam out of your trance, eyes widening in panic. “Is everything okay up there?” Your mom yelled from downstairs, and you heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. Cam rushed towards your window, and you helped him get out quickly. Before he got down, he said something that you spent thinking about the weeks that followed, “I’m really trying hard to hate you too, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try.”

Ever since he dropped by, you had avoided him more than you initially did. And that made Cam wonder what he did or said wrong that day. You were all what he could think about, and if he wasn’t thinking about you, he was dreaming about you or speaking about you.

Whenever you saw him, you would walk the other way, you would pretend you didn’t see him standing. You basically ignored his existence. And for Cam it felt like a stab through the heart, a deep and painful one.

This continued until the debutant ball.

Cam was standing on the flight of stairs behind two other escorts and in front of many others, waiting for the girl’s name he was escorting to be announced. He didn’t know how he ended up here, escorting a girl, who he didn’t even really knew that well, to the debutant ball, But he would do anything to keep his mother happy, so here he was.

He was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his mind on you like it always has been since the first time he saw you. A part of him wished it was you he was escorting. He wished that he was the one who first saw you in your dress before your presentation.

He fantasised how he actually wanted this day to go. You standing there in a beautiful dress, looking drop-dead gorgeous like you always did. Him being the one to look at you with an encouraging smile and mouthing to you how enchanting you looked. It was all you deserved and more. It killed him he wasn’t the one to be doing it.

When it was Cam’s to turn to go up stage and escort the girl, he imagined it was you by his side. He flashed her a polite smile as she did the same and watched as her eyes drifted off to behind him. Cam followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at none other than the guy who was escorting you.

Cam and the girl got off the stage and walked over to the other debutants, waiting for the next debutant to be presented. And when your name was called, Cam felt a heavy flutter in his chest he most certainly couldn’t ignore.

The girl beside him watched his demeanour change at the sound of your name and smiled to herself. She always had the feeling Cam had a thing for you.

When you appeared on stage, Cam’s eyes were drawn to you. The way you looked in your dress was indescribable and the way you glowed made his heart race a million miles per hour. You scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face to ease your nerves. And when your eyes locked Cam’s warm ones it felt as if the world stopped turning. Every single person around you disappeared, it was just you and him.

And your nerves disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

You never pulled your eyes away from his gaze as you walked down the stage with your escort. The escort who had picked up on your crush on Cam a long while back.

Cam tried his best to keep his composure, he was refraining himself from running over to you and holding you like there was no tomorrow, he tried his best not to think about all the ways he would compliment you and make you feel good.

You and your escort halted in front of the table your parents were sitting at and you finally broke eye contact with Cam. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you were thinking about Cam all the damn time as you waited for the presentations to finish.

When they did, every debutant with their escort bowed down to the table with their family. Afterwards, everyone sat down and waited for some surprise performance the escorts were giving. Your escort waited for you to take a seat next to one of your parents, before he parted as well after flashing you a small smile.

“You looked amazing, honey.” Your mom praised, putting a hand on your shoulder. You thanked her and looked around the ball room, trying to find the one person who lived in your mind rent free. Cam was just walking past to get to the other escorts, when his eyes met yours once again. But this time you looked away after a few seconds, trying to nonchalantly brush off the fact you had a major crush on the guy you had thought was your number one enemy.

After the sudden dance performance, your escort had disappeared somewhere, along with the girl Cam was escorting. But neither of you seemed to care, as all you did was gaze at each other longingly, waiting for the people to announce when the first dance was about to take place.

Your parents, who were seated beside you, had noticed your stares and stolen glances towards the boy and smiled at each other knowingly. You tried to hide it, but they knew you. They knew when their daughter was actually in love.

The sound of glass clinking was heard, before a woman announced that it was time. And at that moment you woke up from your trance, realising your escort was still nowhere to be seen. Every debutant, alongside with her escort was gathering on the dance floor, except for you and, well, Cam.

“Mom, where is he?” You questioned worriedly. “It doesn’t matter,” She answered, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I think there’s someone else you’d much rather want to share this dance with.”

She tilted her head towards a certain direction, and you knew immediately who she was referring to. But your eyes followed the direction she meant anyway, with a racing heart.

Cam was standing there, looking at you like a man in love. That’s because he is. He is in love. And before you knew it, your feet made their way towards him. You halted in front of him with a smile. You were panting like you had just run a marathon, but you didn’t care, because you were right in front of who you wanted to be.

“Seems like we both don’t have a dance partner, huh?” Cam chuckled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. All you could do was nod in respond, the words you actually wanted to speak out seeming to be stuck in your throat.

Your hands reached for his and when your fingers intertwined, you could’ve sworn you heard Cam let out a deep breath. The music started playing, and the two of you were drowning in one another’s eyes as you danced to the music just like you had practiced. The tension between the two of you was unbearable throughout the entire dance.

And once the dance ended, when you were in the end position, his face was awfully close to yours and you had to do anything in your power to not plant your lips on his. He pulled you back up, with way more force than he intended, which resulted into you being flush against his chest. Your faces only a few inches away, which made it even harder to refrain yourself.

You pulled away slowly, even when you wish you could stay like that forever. The words you desired to speak were stuck in your throat, and your eyes fell down, feeling flustered by everything that has happened this night. He wanted to say so much as he looked at you with a lovesick smile, but he didn’t know how. His right hand fine yours as he put his left hand under your chin.

He stroked your cheek gently with his thumb, his eyes fixated you and only you. You were the only thing that mattered to him any day, anywhere, anytime.

Every couple around you started to leave the dance floor, but you and Cam stayed there without a care in the world. “Let’s get out of here.” He whispered, in which you grinned to in response.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked towards the exit of the ball room, giggles and chuckles leaving your lips. Your parents watched from afar, knowing you were finally with the one you liked all along.

[mxgcalvi]

Take Me Away, To You

|| ao3 || Finnick masterlist || requests are open!! || an: based on the song "the very first night" by taylor swift ||

summary: When life in the Capitol gets to be too much, Finnick is there to help you through the hardships, and you with him. (wc: 1,959)

warnings: mentions of Finnick's forced prostitution, finnick gets a nightmare, i think thats it!!

You first met Finnick Odair at the annual Capitol party that was held to celebrate the newest addition to the Hunger Games victors. To celebrate you being the latest victor, winning the 68th Hunger Games at 16. 

Frankly, you would have rather been anywhere else than at the party celebrating you. Hiding under the covers in your bed trying to will the nightmares away sounded slightly more appealing than being in President Snow’s mansion for the party. After all, he was the reason you had these nightmares in the first place. Why you were forced into the arena, why you couldn’t close your eyes for too long without being transported back into that arena.

It was obvious to anyone looking hard enough that you weren’t enjoying yourself at the party. Not with your forced smiles or stiff posture. Except no one was looking hard enough- except for Finnick. 

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” he said as he walked towards you.

You could only shrug.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in god knows how long, so-“ you shrug again as Finnick lets out a small chuckle. 

“Fair point, sweetheart. I’d congratulate you, but this doesn’t exactly feel like the type of thing worth congratulating. Trust me, I’d know.“

You nod your head as you finally begin to recognize who you were talking to. 

“You’re Finnick Odair, aren’t you?” You asked with a small laugh. 

Finnick nodded his head in response, his smile faltering the slightest bit, barely noticeable to anyone not paying enough attention. But you were. “The one and only,” he smoothly replied.

“Does it get any easier?” You suddenly ask before pausing. “The nightmares, the memories, just…everything?”

You could see something in Finnick soften at your question. In his eyes, his posture, the way he looked at you. Almostlike he wished he could pick you up and go back to a time when you were never part of the Hunger Games. Never part of the cruel hand you’d been dealt. 

At the end of the day, you were both just kids, you didn’t deserve what you had been put through. And so, he told you the honest-to-god truth. 

“Some nights are easier than others,” he whispers solemnly, “but some nights are worse than others too. I mean, hell, my games were three years ago and I still wake up screaming sometimes.”

“So basically I’m traumatized for the rest of my life?” You ask, half jokingly, half serious. 

Finnick slowly nodded his head yes before picking up a napkin and writing something down on it, before handing it to you. 

“Here,” he said softly, “it’s my number. When you get set up at your place in the Victor’s Village, it should have a phone for you to use. That’s my number, so feel free to call me anytime you can’t deal with everything. I, uh, I’m not always home…the, uh, Capitol keeps me busy, but I promise you if I’m home, I’ll answer. Night or day, alright?”

You nod with a smile. “Thank you, Finnick, that’s very kind of you.”

Finnick could only smile back. A boyish smile that almost made your insides warm. “Us victors gotta look out for each other, right?” He asked, placing a hand on your arm, lightly squeezing it before releasing. “It was nice meeting you,” he says as he walks off. 

“You too!” You call out, holding the napkin close to your chest. 

***

You never realized just how many parties you would be forced to attend as a Hunger Games victor, even if you absolutely loathed them. 

However, there was always one person there who helped to make the parties the slightest bit more bearable. And that, was Finnick. 

True to his word, anytime you had called Finnick over the phone due to nightmares, PTSD, or just needing someone to talk to, he was there on the other line, talking to you until you felt better, calmer. And in turn, sometimes when the nights became too dark, too regretful, too fearful, Finnick would call you as well. 

Through your phone calls, you and Finnick became fast friends, and it was nice to have someone in your circle who knew exactly what you were going through. 

It was especially nice when that same someone promised to stick by your side during the overly-stuffy, overly-bright, overly-loud parties, so long as you wanted him to (you always did).

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Finnick whispered to you as he handed you your glass of champagne.

“Are we even allowed to leave?” You questioned as Finnick glanced around the room before taking your free hand in his. 

“All the other victors seemed to have left,” he whispered, leaning so close to you, that you could feel the ghost of his breath on your lip. He squeezed your hand, as if waiting for a response. 

“We won’t get in trouble, right?” You asked as Finnick shook his head no. 

“I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, sweetheart,” he responded, and something about the way he looked at you made you know he meant it, with everything inside of him. 

And so, you nodded your head yes. 

“Okay,” you whispered as he broke into a wide smile, gently pulling you behind him as he made his way to the exit. 

***

That very same night, you had stayed in Finnick’s hotel room to spend the night. Nothing had happened between the two of you, you had only talked until the both of you were too tired to say anything intelligible anymore before falling asleep. You on his hotel bed, and him, ever the gentleman, on the pullout sofa bed. 

That night, you had awoken to screaming. 

As you shot up in bed, fumbling to find the on switch for the bedside lamp, you saw Finnick’s shadow getting up and walking to the hotel room’s kitchen. When you finally got the light on, you were met with a slightly trembling Finnick attempting to pour himself a glass of water. 

“Here, let me,” you said, getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen to pour the water for him. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he whispered as he took the, now full, glass from you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you stated truthfully, looking at him as he drank the water. 

His trembling had gone down slightly, but you could see the red rim around his eyes. It was obvious it had been a rough night for him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked as Finnick only shrugged. 

“Same shit that always happens,” he replied before setting the glass down in the sink. 

“Do you wanna sit, stand, lay down?”

“Sit,” he replied as you slowly put your hand in his, giving him just enough time to move away if he didn’t want to be touched right now. Instead, he only looped his fingers through yours, allowing you to walk him to the bed. 

As you and Finnick sat down, you heard him mumble “I’m sorry for waking you up,” as you began to cover him with the blanket. 

You shook your head no. 

“No, no, none of that. I’ve probably woken you up thousands of time, don’t worry about it.”

Finnick let out a small smile as he reached for your hand again, lightly squeezing it. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach at his hold. 

“You wake me up too many times,” he joked, his eyes gleaming the slightest bit. 

You squeezed his hand back. 

“You practically asked for it. You said I could call you whenever I want,” you replied with a smile. 

“Yeah, and I regret it every night,” Finnick joked, a fuller, happier smile creasing his face as he raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, behind your ear. His fingers slightly grazing your face, sending small bolts of electricity down your body.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, dropping his hand as he lay down on the bed, facing the wall. 

“Can you even go back to sleep?” You asked as Finnick nodded his head yes. 

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Finnick started before taking a pause, “would you mind staying. Here? I think it’d help me sleep better. You can put a pillow between us if it’ll make you feel better.”

The way he asked the question almost sounded like he was scared. Scared to go back to sleep despite his earlier calm demeanor. Scared to face the horrors that plagued his dreams once again. Scared that he had made you uncomfortable. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you moved to turn off the light. “Yeah, I can stay here.”

***

Truthfully, you never intended to fall in love with Finnick Odair. Sure, he was a (very) attractive guy, that much was obvious. But you never planned for what the two of you had to ever be more than a friendship. Until one day, you began having feelings for him that crossed the friendship line and had entered the romantic line. 

And luckily, he had had the same realization for you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Finnick whispered to you as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

The two of you were on your way to another of the Capitol’s parties. This time to celebrate the winners of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. The “star-crossed lovers,” as the Capitol liked to call them. 

“And you look handsome,” you replied with a smile, moving to adjust the tie wrapped around his neck. 

He kissed your forehead as you attempted to fix his tie. “I love you,” he murmured against it as you smiled up at him, momentarily breaking your concentration to look up at him. 

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile before refocusing on fixing his tie.

Finnick places his hands on your hips with a sigh as he rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with nothing but love in his sea-green eyes. 

“I wish he could run away together,” he whispered to you. “Run away from the Snow’s stupid parties, from the Hunger Games every year, from our responsibilities. I wish we could have more moments like this. Moments to ourselves, moments just for us.”

His words almost stun you. You had always wished for the same things. For a quiet life with Finnick, one without phone calls when he was away, him asking if you knew just how much he missed you, one without the nightmares the two of you still occasionally had. One where you and Finnick could be just that. You and Finnick.

“Finnick,” you softly whisper as he shook his head no. 

“I know it’s stupid. To wish for something that we’ll never be able to do or have, but baby, I wish nothing more than for me to be able to give you a normal life one day. A happy one. Just us.”

It was as if Finnick had looked into your soul and said the very things you were too scared to ever voice aloud. 

“Maybe one day,” you whispered to him as you placed a hand on his arm, lightly squeezing it. “If they can let two people win the Hunger Games, then maybe one day, maybe soon, we could get a normal life to ourselves.”

Finnick wished he could pick you up and keep you safe in his arms as he took you away from the Capitol, from Snow, and from the Hunger Games. But for now, your words would have to suffice. 

“Soon,” Finnick whispered back as he moved to kiss you, his hands gently holding your face as he did. 

Soon couldn’t come fast enough. 

[mxgcalvi]

☼ tender heart (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you grew to be close friends with peeta during the quell, so when he comes to district thirteen, you want to see how he's doing. not realizing that finnick is watching every move and hating every moment.

warnings; swearing, torture mention, death mention, talks of strangulation.

wc; 6.7k

--

The hospital is in complete disarray. There’s so much shouting and movement that you can’t focus on just one thing around you. You watch a doctor, a volunteer, a loved one, a nurse run from one side of the room to the other, scrambling to gather their bearings. 

An emaciated woman with shaved hair and scabs is pushed on a gurney, heading toward a private room. It’s Johanna, you recognize her immediately. She always has that scowl on her face, awake or sleeping. You warned her the expression would stick if she weren’t careful. You’d be gratified you’re right if she weren’t in such a bad condition.

Katniss starts to move away from the group of you, heading for a room with a young man sitting on a stool, stripped down to the waist. Gale Hawthorne, of course. He was the first person to volunteer when the rescue mission was finally approved. Katniss has been worrying herself sick over whether or not he would make it back. 

Well, they did, thankfully.

She makes it to the doorway before she’s blocked by a nurse who is shaking her head, pointing for her to back up. When Katniss makes no move, the door is slammed in her face, wood rattling against the frame. 

“(Y/n)!” A shrill voice shouts, causing you to turn quickly. You’re met with the sight of Annie, she’s barely gotten into District Thirteen’s jumpsuit. The doctor behind her is just finishing the top button when she pushes him out of the way. “Finnick!”

You go to her, a wide smile on her face, arms held out in her direction. “Annie!”

Finnick is right behind you, a hand on your lower back and he guides you to her. She jumps off the bed she’s sitting on, barreling down the open space until she slams into the both of you. You can almost feel the wind leave your lungs on impact, but you can’t help the laughter that escapes you.

You squeeze her tightly, rocking from side to side. The relief finally hits you, tears springing in your eyes. Annie’s your best friend, you knew her before she was reaped, and after you were brought closer together. There are moments when you’re not sure if she feels the same, but it’s times like now when you realize you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

“I’m so happy to see you!” You laugh, giving her a good squeeze before you back away. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” She nods. “Good.”

“They can’t reach you here, Annie.” Finnick tells her. “You’re safe.”

She nods, looking behind her. Her doctor is standing nearby, a device in his hand. “We have just a few more tests to run, and then we’re done.”

“We’ll stay with her.” Finnick says, taking your hand to bring you with them. 

You follow, watching as Annie scoots herself onto the bed. The doctor goes back to doing a series of tests on her. Your eyes wander the hospital, which seems to slowly be collecting itself. Haymitch and Katniss are no longer by the door, so you’re guessing they found their way to Peeta.

He’ll be the one you visit next. The two of you grew to be pretty good friends prior to the Quarter Quell. It turns out you two have a lot more in common than it seems. You might’ve grown up in two different districts, but if you put your backgrounds on paper and ask someone to put it to a face—they’d never be able to. 

Everyone was devastated when you saw him on television for the first time. As the weeks grew on, you were sure you’d eventually watch him die. He was withering away, right before Panem’s eyes, and it made you sick knowing Snow was getting exactly what he wanted. 

He was killing morale.

Right as you turn back to look at Finnick, offering him a smile, a scream pierces the air. Annie slaps her hands over her ears, burying her head into her knees. You turn, holding on to Finnick as you look behind you. Chaos has erupted, several doctors and nurses run down a hallway and don’t return right away.

“We need help!” A voice shouts.

You let go of Finnick, hand falling to your side as you go to see what it is. You’re blocked off by a nurse just before you’re about to see what it is. She pushes you back by your shoulder.

“I’m here to help.” You tell her, going to push again. 

“We’re on strict orders to keep all victors away.” She says. “Please, take a step back.”

A bed driven by an assistant comes flying by, going straight to the commotion. You wait to see what’s happening for a moment, before you begin to back up, thinking they have it under control. That’s when Haymitch comes out from around the corner, eyes wide. 

“What is it?” You ask.

He turns to you with raised eyebrows, mouth open as he shakes his head. Finnick appears by your side, hand reaching for yours. You let his fingers intertwine, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Peeta—he just. One second he was fine and the next he was strangling her.”

“What?” You ask, the nurse scurries down the hallway at the news. You step forward to get a look for yourself, finding a medical group gathered together in front of a door.

You watch as Plutarch steps out of the room, shaking his head. His eyes lock on the three of you, motioning for you to go over to him.

“Come on.” Haymitch says, you follow behind him.

“This is one of their techniques.” Plutarch says, looking back into the room.

You’re finally able to get a glimpse, and it’s far from what you were picturing when Haymitch told you what happened. Peeta’s still on the ground, unconscious, while Boggs stands over him, giving orders to other soldiers beside him.

Katniss has been hoisted onto the bed that was being pushed. She’s got a collar around her neck to keep it in place from causing anymore damage. She seems to be awake, Primrose is right beside her, holding onto her hand tightly. Her lips are moving, so you’re guessing she’s telling her what’s happening.

“What did they do to him?” Haymitch asks.

“It’s called hijacking.” Plutarch tells you.

Katniss is wheeled out of the room, her eyes finding the four of you briefly before you’re taken from her line of sight. She’s being brought deeper into the hospital, where all the machines are.

“Hijacking?” Haymitch repeats.

“It’s when they use the tracker jacker venom to manipulate his memories.” Plutarch looks at the concrete floor. “This is what they must’ve been doing while he was in their captivity. The torture likely got worse after the warning he gave us.”

“So, what? Snow made Peeta hate us?”

“Likely just Katniss, but we won’t know for sure until the venom’s out of his system. It could take from hours to days, depending on how much had been pumped into him.” He says, shaking his head.

“What’s going to happen to Katniss?” You ask.

“She’s going to have her throat examined, to make sure that there wasn’t any real damage done.” Boggs says, coming out of the room. They have Peeta in handcuffs, dragging him by his arms down the same way Katniss was brought. “He had a tight grip on her.”

Haymitch shakes his head, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I wouldn’t either.” Boggs says. “They’re going to take him to one of our isolation rooms. They’ll have a few doctors monitor him.”

“How long do you think until they’ll know for sure about Katniss?” Finnick asks.

Boggs shrugs. “They’re going to start the tests on her.”

“We’ll let you two know when they’re done.” Plutarch says.

You nod, “We’ll go and stay with Annie for a bit then.”

Haymitch nods, you split away. Finnick has this slightly absent look on his face, he must be worried about Katniss. The three of you have grown to be pretty close while Annie and Peeta were in the Capitol. You were all terrified of what would happen to them. 

While you’re grateful it seems Annie has come out unharmed, it doesn’t make you feel good about Johanna and Peeta’s torture. They knew rebel secrets, Snow was trying to get it out of them. They just took Annie because he knew it would drive you crazy since she’s innocent in all of this. How could she know about a rebel plan if she’s thousands of miles away?

You squeeze Finnick’s hand, reminding him you’re there. He gives you a half-smile, and then his attention turns to Annie. She seems to have dropped her knees, her hands no longer over her ears. The doctor must’ve coaxed her out of a spiral, although, they’re not nearly as bad as they used to be.

Annie seems to be pretty stable. They check her system, confirm she doesn’t have any of the tracker jacker venom in her. They go through her vitals, her respiratory. They bring her to a private room to do a body check to find any cuts, bruises or scabs. She comes out clean, and she’s immediately cleared to be brought to a regular hospital room.

You’re shut out of the room for a while in order to allow her to get some rest, so the two of you end up wandering. A familiar string of swear words brings you down the hall to where Johanna is. She’s livid, batting the doctors and nurses away with a pillow, screaming at them to leave her alone.

When she sees you stand in the doorway, she slams the pillow down on her lap. “Finally! Where the hell have you two been?”

“Annie.” You tell her, leaning against the doorway. “You know, if you let them do their job, they’re more likely to leave you alone.”

“This dumbass nurse has been poking me for the past ten minutes.” She glares at the girl in scrubs. “If you can’t find my veins, find someone who can!”

“If you’d stop moving—”

“Get out!” She shouts, throwing the pillow at her face.

The nurse, fed up with Johanna’s attitude, storms out of the room. She narrowly misses you and Finnick, mumbling something about gratitude. The doctor stands there, staring at Johanna, unsure of where to go next.

“Well?” She demands. “Do you know how to find a vein?”

He nods quietly, going over to her. He manages to find the vein in one go, sets up the machine to monitor her vitals, and then clears the room without a word. You enter after that, sitting in one of the chairs in the corner. You cross your arms over your chest.

“How’s Annie?” She asks, observing her inner elbow.

“She’s good, they wanted us to clear out to let her get some rest.” Finnick says.

“The poor thing’s tired.” She nods. “She was hysterical, you know. It was impossible not to hear her, she was almost as bad as Peeta and I.”

“I’m sorry, Johanna.” Finnick murmurs.

Johanna gives a shrug, putting on that brave face she normally does. On the outside, it seems like it doesn’t affect her, but you all know it’ll be haunting her for the rest of her life. The last thing she wants to be seen as is weak.

“He couldn’t kill me.” She says smoothly. “Even if he wanted to.”

You keep Johanna company for a while, bringing her up to speed on what’s been happening in Thirteen while she was gone. The people she can trust, the people she can’t. The food is mediocre at best, Katniss and Gale’s hunting has been the only reason why there’s been variety in the cafeteria. 

It’s a couple hours later when Haymitch sticks his head in the room. “Katniss has a private room, if you’d like to see her.”

“I do.” You say, getting to your feet. “We’ll come back and see you, Johanna.”

“Wish her my best.” Johanna says in that tone of hers, a sarcastic smile follows.

“We will.” Finnick says just to push her buttons.

You leave to follow Haymitch down a series of hallways, bringing you in much deeper than you thought. Katniss’s room is already occupied with quite a few people, so when you join, it feels cramped.

“Hey, Katniss.” You smile, eyes sliding over to her sister next. “And Primrose, of course.”

“Prim is fine.” She gives you a small smile.

Katniss has her lips pressed together, eyes darting around the room to each face. The bruising around her neck has already begun to show, it looks gnarly. If she shows up on camera, it’ll be pretty obvious to the Capitol on what happened. Someone got their hands around her neck. For Snow, it’ll be a sign that his plan worked, but not as well as he was hoping.

“Alright, we’d like a private moment with Katniss, if possible.” Plutarch says, motioning for the doctors to leave. “We’ll press a button if her condition changes.” They nod, not arguing with him, ducking out of the room. He looks at Prim expectantly. “You, too.”

“No. If you force me to leave, I’ll go directly to surgery and tell my mother everything that’s happened. And I warn you, she doesn’t think much of a Gamemaker calling the shots on Katniss’s life. Especially when you’ve taken such poor care of her.” Prim threatens.

Plutarch’s face twists, you suppress a smile, while Haymitch chuckles. “I’d let it go, Plutarch.”

“So, Katniss, Peeta’s condition has come as a shock to all of us.” Plutarch says. “We couldn’t help but notice his deterioration in the last two interviews. Obviously, he’s been abused, and we put his psychological state down to that. Now we believe something more was going on. That the Capitol has been subjecting him to a rather uncommon technique known as hijacking. Beetee?”

Your attention turns to Beetee, his hands are in his lap. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you all the specifics of it, Katniss. The Capitol’s very secretive about this form of torture, and I believe the results are inconsistent. This we do know. It’s a type of fear conditioning. The term hijack comes from an old English word that means ‘to capture,’ or even better, ‘seize’. We believe it was chosen because the technique involves the use of tracker jacker venom, and the jack suggested hijack. You were stung in your first Hunger Games, so unlike most of us, you have firsthand knowledge of the effects of the venom.”

You squint at the ground, trying to catch up with what Beetee’s said. Sometimes you swear he could dumb down what he says, he just chooses not to. Why?—you’ll never know. He’s right though, Katniss did get stung when she dropped that nest on the group of Careers below the tree.

You watched your girl tribute die because she’d gotten stung too many times. She couldn’t flee in time, there was nothing she could do to stop her fate. And since she was your last tribute alive, you and Finnick were pulled out of the Betting Room, instructed to stay in the Tribute Center unless given instructions stating otherwise.

“I’m sure you remember how frightening it was. Did you also sugar mental confusion in the aftermath?” Beetee asks, Katniss closes her eyes and gives a very small nod, agreeing. “A sense of being unable to judge what was true and what was false? Most people who have been stung and lived to tell about it report something of the kind.”

He takes a breath. “Recall is made more difficult because memories can be changed.” Beetee taps his forehead. “Brought to the forefront of your mind, altered, and saved again in the revised form. Now imagine that I ask you to remember something—either with a verbal suggestion or by making you watch a tape of the event—and while that experience is refreshed, I give you a dose of tracker jacker venom. Not enough to induce a three-day blackout. Just enough to infuse the memory with fear and doubt. And that’s what your brain puts in long-term storage.”

Prim shakes her head. “Is that what they’ve done to Peeta? Taken his memories of Katniss and distorted them so they’re scary?”

Beetee nods. “So scary that he’d see her as life-threatening. That he might try to kill her. Yes, that’s our current theory.”

Katniss lifts her arms, burying her face in them. Prim rubs her shoulder, but doesn’t look away from Beetee. “But you can reverse it, right?”

“Um… very little data on that.” Plutarch admits. “None, really. If hijacking rehabilitation has been attempted before, we have no access to those records.”

“Well, you’re going to try, aren’t you?” Prim persists. “You’re not just going to lock him up in some padded room and leave him to suffer?”

“Of course, we’ll try, Prim.” Beetee says. “It’s just, we don’t know to what degree we’ll succeed. If any. My guess is that fearful events are the hardest to root out. They’re the ones we naturally remember best, after all.”

“And apart from his memories of Katniss, we don’t yet know what else has been tampered with.” Plutarch shakes his head. “We’re putting together a team of mental health and military professionals to come up with a counterattack. I, personally, feel optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Do you?” Prim asks, tilting her head. “And what do you think, Haymitch?”

Katniss very cautiously moves her arms to allow a gap to see Haymitch. His shoulders have sunk. “I think Peeta might get somewhat better. But…I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.”

“At least he’s alive.” Plutarch is losing patience with pessimism. “Snow executed Peeta’s stylist and his prep team on live television tonight. We’ve no idea what happened to Effie Trinket. Peeta’s damaged, but he’s here. With us. And that’s a definite improvement over his situation twelve hours ago. Let’s keep that in mind, all right?”

Katniss chest begins to rise and fall drastically, until she’s gasping for air. Her arms have fallen from her face so she can grab onto the bed, beginning to panic. The news about Peeta’s team has caused this, there’s no question about it.

It’s a matter of seconds before a button is pressed, a team of doctors and nurses infiltrate the room, and Katniss is completely sedated. You’re all shut out of the room, with the exception of Prim, who grips onto the rails of the bed and watches the medical staff help Katniss.

You turn to Plutarch and Beetee. “Do you think your team will land on exposure therapy?”

Plutarch makes a face, weighing this. “Possibly. We can’t really take any risks right now, we don’t want to agitate him.”

“Are we able to see him?”

“(Y/n).” Finnick says, shaking his head. 

You place a hand on his arm. “I don’t want to see him face to face, I just—I assume you have him in a room where you can monitor him. I want to see him with my own eyes.”

“You can, but not for long.” Plutarch nods, beginning to start down the hallway. 

Beetee and Haymitch go first, you wait until they’ve passed before you go to follow. A tight grip on your upper arm keeps you from leaving. Finnick’s shaking his head.

“We should go see Annie, make sure she’ll be okay for the night.”

You shrug with one shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s only been a few hours since we’d seen her last. She was sleeping, remember?”

“Yeah, but there’s not much to see right now with Peeta.”

“So? I want to help them come up with solutions when it comes to Peeta.”

“What solutions do you think you’ll be able to come up with that they haven’t thought of already?”

“Finnick, we’re taken care of Annie all these years, and we had to figure out how to do that. Who’s to say we can’t get a start on Peeta?”

“I’d really rather see Annie. Or go visit Johanna again.”

You pull your arm from him. “Then go see them, I’ll meet you there eventually.”

“Are you two coming?” Plutarch shouts down the hall, they’ve stopped at the turn to make sure you were behind him.

“I don’t want to split up.” Finnick says. “Not right now.”

“Well, I’m going this way.” You tell him, beginning to back away. “Make your choice.”

Finnick seems unhappy with your decision, but goes with you, anyway. Beetee and Plutarch make conversation about Peeta, theorizing if they’ve tried any of the tracker jacker venom on Johanna. It doesn’t seem like it, but they won’t know for sure until they come across something that triggers her.

When you get to see Peeta, it’s through a glass pane. He’s been strapped to a gurney by his wrists and ankles. They’ve changed him into a hospital gown. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just a body. The life has been completely sucked out of him.

He continues to look like this for the next couple of days, and as they start to go easier on the sedation, he begins to ask questions. He’s only allowed to be seen by strangers, so they can evaluate his behavior and keep any dangerous memories from resurfacing. 

A team of specialists work constantly to plan out a recovery route for him. You go to see him from time to time when your schedule allows. Finnick keeps to Johanna, only going with you when it’s late at night. All he does is ask why you care so much about Peeta, you barely know each other. 

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s like you’d been copy and pasted in District Twelve and the universe changed his gender. You come a tough-love household, where you were left to fend for yourself. In your first Games, your family had no hope you’d win. You have similar values when it comes to caring and kindness and a general outlook on life.

You’d grew especially close since you both had your partners with you in the Quarter Quell arena. Finnick was going in, that wasn’t up for debate. So, you’d gone with him, much to his opposition. The same thing went on for Peeta. It was almost shocking just how in sync your lives were.

At one point, you said it was like he was destined to be your twin. Your best friend.

You can’t explain this all to Finnick without him accusing you of being weird, you’re sure of it. That’s why you don’t bother. You’ve told him you consider Peeta to be one of your friends, the same way you do with Johanna and Annie. And while you’re concerned over their wellbeing, they seem to be operating just fine.

You don’t understand why it’s such a big deal who you choose to visit.

You cross your arms over your chest, listening as Plutarch explains the experiment they’ve decided to go through with. They took your suggestion about exposure therapy into consideration, and they’ve started to start off with a girl named Delly from District Twelve. 

So far, she’s been really friendly. She struck up conversation with you as soon as you came in the room, curious on where you’re from and what it’s like in District Four. She’s had all good things to say about Peeta and Katniss and Gale. You’re sure that even if she tried, she wouldn’t be able to say a bad thing about Haymitch, either.

“Katniss!” She suddenly calls out.

You turn to see Katniss coming your way. She looks a lot better than she did that first day. The bruises on her neck have started the process of fading, but it’ll be a long week before they’re gone completely. You’ve visited her a few times while she was bedbound, Prim was almost always there. On one of the stops, you told Katniss that Johanna’s just as much of a firecracker as she was before she left, maybe more, so she’d better be careful talking to her, when she’s allowed.

“Hey, Delly.” Katniss says. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s been a lot of changes all at once.” Her eyes fill with tears immediately. “But everyone’s really nice here in Thirteen, don’t you think?”

“They’ve made an effort to make us feel welcome.” Katniss says, trying to be diplomatic on her opinion. “Are you the one they’ve picked to see Peeta?”

“I guess so. Poor Peeta. Poor you. I’ll never understand the Capitol.”

“Better not to, maybe.” Katniss suggests.

“Delly’s known Peeta for a long time.” Plutarch interjects.

“Oh, yes!” Delly’s face brightens. “We played together from when we were little. I used to tell people he was my brother.”

“What do you think?” Haymitch asks Katniss. “Anything that might trigger memories of you?”

“We were all in the same class. But we never overlapped much.” Katniss shrugs. 

“Katniss was always so amazing. I never dreamed she would notice me.” Delly says. “The way she could hunt and go in the Hob and everything. Everyone admired her so.”

There’s a pause as Haymitch and Katniss stare at Delly, maybe it’s something she’s said. That’s when Katniss tears her eyes away to look between you and Plutarch.

“Delly always thinks the best of everyone. I don’t think Peeta could have bad memories associated with her.” She pauses. “Wait. In the Captiol. When I lied about recognizing the Avox girl. Peeta covered for me and said she looked like Delly.”

Haymitch nods. “I remember. But I don’t know. It wasn’t true. Delly wasn’t actually there. I don’t think it can compete with years of childhood memories.”

“Especially with such a pleasant companion as Delly.” Plutarch says. “Let’s give it a shot.”

You all move into the next room, which is called the observation room. There, a ten member team stands ready with clipboards and pens, ready to jot down Peeta’s reaction. There’s a one-way glass and an audio set up to allow you to see and hear everything that will go on.

On the other side of the wall is Peeta, still strapped down on the bed. He seems awake, staring off at something, but he’s got an edge to his expression. He’s not the person he used to be. His fingers constantly move, waving, bending, balling. You can’t imagine how bored he must be.

Delly gets sent through the door, which causes his eyes to widen, and then his face twists, unsure. Delly takes her time crossing the room, not trying to move too fast or step too loud. Once she’s close, she breaks into that smile of hers. “Peeta? It’s Delly. From home.”

“Delly?” He asks. “Delly. It’s you.”

“Yes!” She says. “How do you feel?”

“Awful. WHere are we? What’s happened?”

“Here we go.” Haymitch says, covering his mouth.

“I told her to steer clear of any mention of Katniss or the Capitol.” Plutarch says. “Just see how much of home she could conjure up.”

“Well… we’re in District Thirteen. We live here now.

“That’s what those people have been saying. But it makes no sense. Why aren’t we home?”

Delly bites her lip. “There was… an accident. I miss home badly, too. I was only just thinking about those chalk drawings we used to do on the paving stones. Yours were so wonderful. Remember when you made each one a different animal?”

“Yeah. Pigs and cats and things.” Peeta says dismissively. “You said… about an accident?”

Delly purses her lips, trying to think of a way to work around the question. “It was bad. No one… could stay.” She stops.

“Hang in there, girl.” Haymitch mutters.

“But I know you’re going to like it here, Peeta. The people have been really nice to us. There’s always food and clean clothes, and school’s much more interesting.” She picks up.

“Why hasn’t my family come to see me?” Peeta asks.

“They can’t.” Delly’s tearing up. “A lot of people didn’t get out of Twelve. So we’ll need to make a new life herer. I’m sure they could use a good baker. Do you remember when your father used to let us make dough girls and boys?”

“There was a fire.” Peeta suddenly says, as if he’s known all along.

“Yes.” She whispers.

“Twelve burned down, didn’t it? Because of her.” His face has begun to turn red. “Because of Katniss!” He yanks on his restraints.

“Oh, no, Peeta. It wasn’t her fault.”

“Did she tell you that?” He hisses.

“Get her out of there.” Plutarch orders.

The door to the room slides open, Delly begins to back away to it. “She didn’t have to. I was—”

“Because she’s lying! She’s a liar! You can’t believe anything she says! She’s some kind of mutt the Capitol created to use against the rest of us!” Peeta shouts at her. 

“No, Peeta. She’s not a—” Delly tries again.

“Don’t trust her, Delly.” Peeta’s shaking his head, desperate. “I did, and she tried to kill me. She killed my friends. My family. Don’t even go near her! She’s a mutt!”

A hand reaches through, grabbing Delly, pulling her out. The door immediately swings shut, but Peeta’s still shouting. The recovery team is scribbling down notes, writing every word he’s said. You watch as Haymitch and Plutarch escort Katniss out of the room, you loosely follow. 

They stop in the empty hallway, where Katniss covers her face with her hands, taking deep breaths to calm herself. When she feels better, her hands drop. “I can’t stay here anymore.” She says. “If you want me to be the Mockingjay, you’ll have to send me away.”

“Where do you want to go?” Haymitch asks.

“The Capitol.” 

“Can’t do it.” Plutarch shakes his head. “Not until all the districts are secure. Good news is, the fighting’s almost over in all of them but Two. It’s a tough nut to crack, though.”

“Fine.” She says. “Send me to Two.”

They begin to walk away together, but Haymitch notices you keep your feet firmly planted where you are. He lets them go off, backtracking to come to you. “What are you thinking?”

You glance behind you, back to the room where Peeta is. Maybe they’re taking the wrong approach. You can’t avoid talking about Katniss and the Capitol forever. In fairness, he’s only been back for about a week now. But they haven’t allowed anyone else from Twelve to see him, much less any other victors that could help him.

“What do you think would happen if he saw me?”

Haymitch thinks this over for a moment, eyebrows slowly drawing in. You were sure he would outright reject the idea, but he shrugs. “You did have some things in common.”

“Do you think he’s too riled up?”

“They already administered a sedative. You’d probably have to wait before going in.”

“Then I’ll wait.” You tell him.

Haymitch keeps you company in the hallway, the two of you talk about Annie’s recovery and what that could mean for Peeta. If it’s even the same. Haymitch is afraid that Peeta will never be the same person as he was before, especially with the route the Capitol went with. They wanted to damage him, and they’ve pretty much succeeded. 

However, the same was thought for Annie. After she won, there was a period of time where she wouldn’t even come out of her house. She didn’t want to see you or Finnick or Mags—only her family. Except, her family wasn’t ready to be taking care of her like that. You had to step in, even though it was far from what Annie wanted, but it turned out for the better.

It could be the same for Peeta.

About an hour after they administered the sedative, Peeta’s slowly coming back to reality. Plutarch has made his way back, as well. He’s got Katniss set up with a hovercraft to leave in a couple hours. She’ll say goodbye to her family and spend a nice couple weeks in Two, where they’re having a hard time cracking down on loyalists.

When you re-enter the observation room, you’re met with a lot of pushback from the recovery team. They think it’s too early to try again, and you might end up causing more damage than you intend to. Once Haymitch tells them that you grew to be pretty close during the Quarter Quell, they back off, but they’re still doubting your ability to do any real good.

“Try to keep conversation about Katniss to a minimum.” Plutarch tells you.

“Sure.” You tell him, but you know you’ll go wherever the conversation allows. If Peeta wants to talk about Katniss, you’ll let him. 

You go in through the door, Peeta lifts his head to look in your direction. He’s not completely off of the drugs quite yet, they thought it would be easier if he was still drowsy. He squints at you, as if he’s trying to put a name to your face, but then he relaxes when you get closer.

“(Y/n).”

“Hey, Peeta.” You smile. “Long time, no see. I was sure we were going to have some big reunion when you got here.”

He scoffs, laying his head back. “You don’t have to lie to me, (Y/n).”

“Lie to you about what?” You ask him.

“I know you wanted me locked up after what I did to her.” He spits the word, but he’s not nearly as worked up as much.

“It’s a precaution for your safety.” You tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, I did try to see you as soon as you got here, but you weren’t ready for visitors.” You lift one hand to motion to his restraints. “You still aren’t.”

“I’m not crazy.” He accuses. “You’re just as brainwashed as they are.”

“I never said you were crazy.” You tell him. “And come on. Who just spent the last month and a half in the Capitol?” You tit your head down at him. “Have you seen yourself?”

“Yeah, right there.’ He justs his chin at the one-way glass. There are twelve eyes staring back at you that you can’t see. You wonder if he knows that. “Is she back there?”

“No, she left after you freaked poor Delly out.” You tell him. “You might want to try to apologize the next time you see her. She was really happy to see you.”

“How do you know Delly?” he asks.

“Who doesn’t know Delly?” You retort. “That girl has talked my ear off since I met her.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Right.”

“Listen, I hear you have a lot of trouble remembering the way things happened.”

The smile vanishes. “No, she just manipulated you all into thinking she’s the victim.”

“You’re both victims.” You correct him. “We’re all victims of the Capitol, of the war.”

Peeta takes time to think this over, letting it turn in his mind. This is what you want, for him to take his own feelings and compare it to what you’re saying. “How could she manipulate all of us when we watched every minute of what happened?” You challenge. “It doesn’t make sense. She hasn’t spoken to every single person in District Four, and we’re still right behind her.”

His voice is quiet when he speaks. “She tried to kill me in our Games. She—they are working together, against me.”

“Who?”

“Haymitch and the mutt.”

“How were they working against you, if you made it out alive?” You counter, leaning over the bed a little bit to get him to look at you. “Haymitch made a promise to you during the Quarter Quell. Don’t you remember what that was?”

“No.” He says bitterly. “I’m sure it was stupid of me.”

“You asked him to save Katniss over you. And he kept his word, didn’t he? Katniss is safe.”

“I never should have seen Haymitch that night.” Peeta’s shaking his head. “I never should’ve volunteered. They could’ve figured it out themselves.”

“Maybe so, but do you think you could’ve lived with it at the time?” You ask him.

There’s a pause. “No.”

“No.” You agree. “You loved Katniss so much before you went to the Capitol, that you were willing to risk your life for her. The Capitol has stolen that from you, and you’re just going to let it happen?”

“She doesn’t care.” His face twists.

“The night you were rescued, she went into the hospital looking for you.” You tell Peeta. “You, not anyone else. What does that say to you?”

Peeta’s eyes fall. “She wanted to kill me.”

“She wanted to see her fiance again. She wanted to hold him.” You shake your head. “I think while you’re here, you should take some time to think this through. Katniss loved you in her own cruel way. The two of you have been put into an impossible situation.”

“You don’t get it.” 

You take a step back. “Maybe I don’t. I’ll see you later, Peeta.”

“Wait—you’re leaving?” He pulls on the restraints, trying to sit up.

“I can’t be here all day. I have other people to visit.”

“Like who?”

“Like Annie. Like Johanna.” You shrug. “Think, Peeta. You have plenty of time to do it. There must be something that doesn’t make sense in the memories the Capitol has given you.”

You leave the room, finding Finnick in the next when you enter. His mouth is twisted, like it usually is when he’s angry. Your eyebrows twitch, trying to remember if you’ve given him a reason to feel this way, when Plutarch and Haymitch come toward you.

“He responded well, (Y/n).” Haymitch nods.

“How did you do that?” Plutarch asks.

“I think the sedative helped.” You admit. “I think if you bring Delly in here again, you should let him control the way the conversation goes. And he needs to be told about what happened in District Twelve. I don’t think it’s a good idea to withhold that from him.”

“Maybe we’ll try that tomorrow.” Plutarch says, looking at the recovery team. “He’s had an exciting day today, he needs time to wind down and think.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” You start toward Finnick. “I’ll catch you later, I think it’s about lunch time.”

Haymitch waves. “We’ll see you.”

As you step back into the hallway, you reach for Finnick’s hand, wanting to be close to him. Your fingers barely graze his skin before he pulls away, opting to cross his arms instead. 

You stare at him for a moment. “What’s the matter with you?”

“If you want to hold hands, maybe you should go see Peeta.”

“Are you serious?” You stop walking, hands on your hips. “Finnick, really?”

He turns, looking you over. “That’s what you did, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t even touch Peeta.” You motion back down the hallway. “I leaned over to get his attention.”

“That’s not what it looked like.” He waves you off, going back to walking.

“Quit it.” You snap, following behind him. You grab his sleeve, twisting him sharply to face you. “That’s not what happened.”

“You two seem pretty close.”

“We have the same background.”

“Uh huh.” Finnick tries to pull his arm away.

You yank him back, causing him to almost trip. He leans over just long enough to allow you to grab his face, planting a hard kiss to his lips. When you pull away, Finnick stares at you.

“How long have we been dating?” You ask him. “And you think I would just leave you for Peeta? What sense does that make, really?”

“(Y/n), you’ve been blowing me off to go see him, what else was I supposed to think?”

You pull him in close, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you and only you.” You tell him, he hugs you back. “I’m sorry I haven’t been with you.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “You’re just trying to help, it’s what you do best.”

You pull back. “You should come with me next time. We might be able to do some good.”

“Maybe.” Finnick says, taking your hand in his. “For now, I think we have a date aboveground.”

You stand up straight. “Really? You convinced them?”

Finnick gives you a cheeky smile. “Only the best for my lady.”

You laugh, pulling him in for another kiss. “I love you, Finnick.”

“I love you, honey.”

[mxgcalvi]

cruel world

pairing: finnick x district12!victor!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of: forced prostitution, violence, and death but not described, established relationship, kissing, pet names (sweetheart, love, honey etc.), one slightly dirty joke, other characters mentioned, usual thg stuff, set in catching fire

a/n: uhhhhh i’ve been writing this for two weeks now, just couldn’t get myself to finish it, it’s here now tho so enjoy!!! ALSO IM THINKING ABOUT MAKING THIS A SERIES WHAT DO WE SAY?? (divider by @dollywons)

word count: 4.6k

finnick o’dair thought that he will never feel worse than when he was reaped for his games, barely at fourteen years old having to fight for his life in an arena with twenty three other kids. when he won his games and had to live with the heavy weight of the lives he took or when he was being sold and used by the capitol ever since he was fifteen.

that all changed when finnick met her. the love of his life with the same fate. a victor that was desirable for capitol’s citizens. a big mistake. he felt horrible whenever she was pulled from his arms to be used by violent, greedy men.

the feeling that beat those was when the quarter quell was announced. finnick he was the only male victor in district four and when mags, his mentor, volunteered as tribute for his friend annie cresta it was even worse.

finnick put on the typical mask of arrogance and pride, smiling into the cameras while his eyes hid fear and worry, his mind begging for his girlfriend not to volunteer, as he watched the screen from the justice building in his district.

“as always ladies first.” effie said into the microphone, cameras pointing at her face as they finally streamed the last of the twelve district. it was different this time, sadder. everyone was confused, heartbroken and angry.

katniss’s name was called and before anyone had the time to process it, the only other remaining female victor immediately raised her hand.

“i volunteer.”

finnick’s vision went black, he suddenly felt nauseous and sick. he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or hold her and never let her go. probably both.

the train ride was a lot less calmer than two years ago, when you were reaped at sixteen years old, as a tribute for your district.

the setting was quite familiar, really, haymitch was trying to drink himself into oblivion as always, effie was speaking about manner and being a team, peeta was quiet probably bracing the probability of death more than last year and you were thinking about finnick. what he’s gonna say, what are you gonna say, everything.

you wouldn’t really blame him if he was gonna get mad at you. you would too. you had the chance to not go back, yet you decided you will. although, you knew finnick would do the same in your place, katniss had a family she had to take care of, you had only finnick and friends, that all were going to the arena as well, making you wonder, how could anyone think you’d stay home and just watch? a lot of people would, but not you.

the train finally stopped in the capitol and from the window you saw people on the station, screaming and cheering and waving, greeting you and peeta. you just gave a fake smile, before disappearing behind the curtains again and following after effie to the exit.

deep breaths. in and out. your brain repeated to you, as you walked through the familiar hallway, hand in hand with peeta, showing each other support, through a little gesture.

“they all know each other, have been friends for years which gives you two a disadvantages since y’re newbies, try to make a good impression and allies, that is the most important.” he warned looking straight at you and not at peeta at all.

“but- that makes no sense, getting too close to them will just give them an opportunity to kill us right away.” you argue with your mentor.

“sweetheart, if you two stay alone, they’re gonna hunt y’ down, immediately. say what’cha want but i know these people.”

“how can we even trust them?” you throw your arms defensively, sitting on the chair, in between your blonde friend and effie.

“hey, c’mon…” peeta tried to convince you. of course he thought that your trust issues were valid, but he also understood that if you wanted to live at least after the bloodbath, you’d have to make alliances with some of the other victors.

“it’s not about trust it’s about staying alive.” haymitch gave you a strict, pointed look, ending the debate, placing the empty glass that smelled of whiskey, back at the table.

after the talk with haymitch you both were send to your quarters before your prep teams would call you and discuss the opening ceremony.

the elevator felt too small, too slow and too hot to keep your nerves in check. you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down until seeing finnick, yet everything around you was making it even more unbearable, the feeling of being pressed together into a little ball, like the walls would close around your body, squishing you together.

“see you later?” your blond district partner’s voice echoed in your ear, taking you out of your thoughts and you give him a brief nod of agreement as an answer. if it was not for him maybe you wouldn’t even notice that the elevator’s door clicked open at your destination.

walking into your room, you slump on the bed, diving back into your restless mind. the room was just so capitol like. modern and luxurious, brightly coloured. a king sized bed places in the very middle of the chamber, a lone painting of the city’s skyline hung on the wall, soft carpet covered the first three feet of a measure from the edge of the bed so coldness of the floor would not be the first thing waking you up in the morning as if to make up for the coldness of the room on it’s own. there was nothing personal, nothing idiosyncratic that would make it imperfect, that would make it human and feel like home.

the swirls of your own brain would maybe swallow you whole if there was not a knock on the door and then a face of your district’s escalator appeared.

“sweetie, be ready in few down at the hall, pleas. also, special someone is waiting for you.” effie smiled, and her eyes held a sparkle of mystery. oh, how much she rooted for you and finnick, how much she rooted for katniss and peeta. she tried to hide it, but you were an observant person and the lessening ignorance from her was just making you like her more but you understood the importance of keeping up a mask.

“thank you, effie.” sparing her a small smile, watching her leave, you walked toward the mirror that decorated one part of the wardrobe’s door. you fixed the mess your two braids had become and tied the bows of ribbon on each side again. it was there to ground you. maybe you were crazy, but that little flashes of colour in the grey and dusty district you grew up in, were giving you hope. hope that not everything was black and white and that there was a way out. you hoped they would work the same in here. to remind you where you’re from, that fighting is a second nature to you.

impatiently stepping, from foot to foot, in the elevator you waited for it to get to zero. you didn’t know why you felt so sick. you did this before. you can do it again, right? maybe if finnick’s fallen, worried face wasn’t the first thing you saw when the elevator let you into the lobby, where prep teams were supposed to pick up their victors in no time, those affirmations would’ve been more affective. just maybe.

puffing out your chest, straightening your back, and walking towards the group of much older and skilled victors with confidence seemed like a good idea second ago, the other second when enobaria pierced through you with her gaze, not so much. you had a deep respect for that woman.

swallowing down you walk up to the other duo standing there. you counted five victors in total, which was not much, but you assumed others were or requested to be escorted from their private rooms. few meters from the career pack, there was no one other than finnick with mags next to him.

finnick chatted with his career co-victors for a while, trying to appear as indifferent and as charming as he always is. there was no way for him and you to be in a public relationship, no. it’s been just a secret between you and your closest friends. you did try to hide it from snow, but he found out in a matter of weeks anyway. surprisingly he let it slide, a thought forming in his head how great of a extortion method this could be for him.

“i won’t look into what you do in private, but for everyone else, you and her have to appear available and willing, mr. o’dair.” snow’s voice ringed in finnick’s head often, killing him from the inside like a parasite.

a good way to describe president snow, who always found ways to hurt and destroy more and more. increasingly often you and finnick found yourselves escorted at the capitol from your districts, to satisfy the greedy clients that simple objectified and violated you, leaving you feel used and dirty.

finnick had a comforting arm around mags’ shoulders, few moments after excusing himself from the conversation with the other careers, waiting for their prep teams. a familiar sounding footsteps echoed through the room, familiar scent lined through the air as you neared him, finnick adverted his eyes from mags’ looking up so he was met with a warm, soft but confident gaze of his lover.

he wanted to run to you, take you into his arms and kiss you senseless. instead he just gave you that warm smile, waiting. he was still upset about earlier events but also incredibly understanding and content to see you alive.

giving a brief nod of acknowledgment to the careers you hurried to hug finnick, while trying to make it look like he wasn’t the love of your life or something.

“finnick.” you breath out loud in relief almost, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his muscular arms envelop you once again after all the long weeks of being out of reach, just relaying on a belief the other one was safe.

“my love…” he whispered softly, almost inaudibly so no one would hear, but you did and that was enough.

he didn’t wanted to pull away from you, almost felt like he physically couldn’t until you did, leaning back, taking away the warmth you provided for the brief moment the embrace lasted.

“hi mags.” you greet mags, the wonderful old lady you’ve grown so much to, finnick’s mentor and the female tribute for district four. she returned your hug, giving you a smile, her gentle motherly hand brushed your cheek.

the next day the training began, you were given your training suits and alongside peeta, you walked into the training room. so similar to how you remembered it. the survival stands, fighting matts and of course simulators, for archery, knife throwing, sword fighting and much else.

you part ways with your district partner, for now, walking around slowly, trying your hardest to smile at the other occupants of the room, but most, just hissed or glared at you, until by the corner of your eye, you caught those crazy geniuses from the third district or whatever haymitch said, struggling to make a fire.

“you should move your hands downward and faster.” you try to advice putting a smile on your face, as you tried unnoticeably take a closer look at the pair, sitting down next to them, watching beetee try again.

“a little brutal force..” wiress gasped as she saw the smoke coming out of the wood.

“is always helpful. thank you.” beetee finished the line for his district partner and smiled at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose.

“by the corner of the table.” the female tribute whispers mysteriously, making you look up at the balcony, the gamemakers watched you from like hawks analysing their preys. you squint your eyes trying to figure out what was wiress talking about, so you ask.

“plutarch?” the head gamemaker had talked to you, at the victor’s party very briefly, few momths ago, but wiress shook her head and beetee seemed to be only remaining from the trio to catch on what his co-victor was talking about.

“force field.”

“how do you know?” you ask curious, scanning the area, but you just didn’t know what to catch onto.

“the shimmering. top left side.” beetee explained lightly turning your head towards the imperfect edge of the figurative border, “you see it?”

you nod along, fascinated by the occurrence. “almost like glass.” you commented.

“it separates them from us.” wiress sighed and you frowned knowingly.

“i know who’s fault that is..”

“electro-magnetic.” beetee stated after analysing the force field for few another seconds.

“how can you tell?” you ask again, confusion settling in your expression a they laughed. “is it obvious or something?” you pout almost as they giggled some more while you were trying to figure pit if there was something you were missing.

“they might as well put a sign there.” wiress laughed some more as beetee tried to explain it to you.

“look around, the holograms, the lights, every once a while, they flicker. why?”

“because the force field is taking up too much energy.” you answer, nodding understandingly, feeling a little better after seeing his pleased smile at your correct answer.

“there’s always a flaw in the system.”

and that made you think for few seconds, just about how true that was, but before you could dive too deep into those waters, by the corner of your eye, you caught mags, making fish hooks. you excuse yourself politely, from the district three victors and made your way towards the eldest mentor and this years tribute.

your gaze scanned over her creations. you knew how to make those, because finnick taught you some time ago, it came in handy a lot, you just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

“volunteering for annie was really brave.” you say standing next to her, giving her a soft encouraging smile.

mags just shook her head, her gentle hand touching your chest, which was your answer. you knew what she meant. that she admired your bravery to volunteer for your best friend instead.

before you had a chance to say anything else, finnick appeared behind you with a trident and a rope in his hand, grinning, like he was having the time of his life.

“you know this is the best knot you can know in the arena.” the blonde said hanging a noose around his neck.

you just gave him an unimpressed look but barely could fight back the smile as you were looking at him, knowing full well that was his only intention beside showing off.

“don’t look at me, look at the knot.” he chuckled as he tried to lecture you, dramatically tugging on the end of the rope, towards you.

“hilarious.” you comment, crossing your arms over your chest, but an amused smile was plastered on your face, reaching your eyes even.

“do you wanna take me for a walk?” finnick cocked his eyebrow, while keeping his tone light, his bronze waves already were a mess after his training, and maybe you even would if it wasn’t for the given circumstances so you just roll your eyes over him coyly, walking past him, for your chosen weapon to train more your skills.

“oh, really?” you heard finnick’s voice call behind you and you just had to smile for yourself before focusing on the task at hand again.

“good news.” haymitch walked into the lounge room of their floor that peeta and you were occupying, stopping right in from of the couch you were sitting on.

“more than half of the tributes want you as their ally.” haymitch said, arms folded over his chest, but what he said, was meant as a praise, he was relieved you made a good impression.

“well they saw her fight.” peeta said, standing next to haymitch, mentioning how you left everyone speechless at the training earlier today after showing your chosen skill in full swing.

“well sweetheart, who’s your pick?” haymitch asked expectantly before muttering under his breath. “beside o’dair of course..”

“i want wiress and beetee.” you say without much thinking, blinking as you saw haymitch’s expression shift ever so slightly.

“johanna calls them mats and voltes.” your district partner comments, not so sure with your choice of allies.

“well honey, who’s else?” haymitch tried again, his last hopes mirroring in his eyes.

“mags.” you shrug softly almost pouting at the looks you have gotten from your mentor and co-tribute.

haymitch swallowed, hard. looking at peeta who was right now rethinking all his life choices before looking back at you.

“i’ll tell them y’re still makin’ up your mind.” he settled on before walking back towards the elevator.

soon enough the prep teams plugged out their victor, to make them look as significant as attractive and as glorious as they can. you were waxed off of all your additional body hair beside those on your head. they bathed you, scrubbed and soaped up your body with the expensive products that held rich scents of vanilla, strawberries and sweet cakes.

it didn’t take more than hour before cinna walked through the door of the room where you were supposed to wait for him.

“cinna..” you hug him, your hair still wet. he was the first person from the capitol, you ever trusted. he was a great stylist and even greater man. as a stylist for district twelve, he dressed both you and katniss for your games.

breathtaking, mesmerising, magnificent, enchanting and just simply beautiful. all those words could describe the dress you wore. white, wedding like, but incredibly revealing even if they were floor length. that’s how you first would call it, they wanted you to be desirable. you knew why. you knew it was all president snow, teasing, poking and provoking. it was just so him.

“and if i die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” you watched finnick say on the stage, next to caesar flickerman, and god did it sounded so fake. the audience swooned, some of the other victors beside you made disgusted faces and you, you were the only one in the room, knowing it was real.

flickerman sent him off the stage with a laugh, and called the female tribute from district five on the stage. the victors kept changing and before you could listen more to johanna’s screaming, finnick’s voice stole your attention away.

“break a leg, or whatever you say in twelve.” the typical arrogant smirk decorated his perfect face as he snickered, throwing yet another sugar cube into his mouth, you knew it always did ease his nerves.

“maybe johanna will break his leg.” you mutter adverting your gaze to johanna mason, raging on the podium. when finnick introduced you to her first, you found her hard to trust, but soon enough you got used to her unpredictable, fierce nature. your calmer and rational thinking was a great contrast to your friendship.

the observation earned a chuckle from finnick as he took a little step closer to you, looking at you with his sea green eyes, for a long moment as if complimenting your beauty with just the look on it’s own. finnick had his way with words, there was no discussion about that, but his eyes always spoke for him first.

“see y’ later, honey.” his thumb ever so gently brushed against your chin, as he turned to walk to the other already interviewed victors.

“peeta.” finnick acknowledged your district partner with a brief nod, and he got one back, from the younger blonde.

“finnick.” peeta muttered, walking up to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder briefly before he saw haymitch nearing both of you with effie trying to keep up with him on her dramatically tall heels.

“you know what to do?” haymitch switched gaze between his protégés, before sipping some alcohol from his flask again, to make sure they understood. earning a nod from both you and peeta he sighed, for now leaving it to the fate.

“it’s time.” effie chimmed when your name was called and started lightly pushing you towards the staircase leading up the podium.

“our lovely girl, all the from twelve, doesn’t she look beautiful?” caesar gushed putting a hand over his chest, while holding the microphone in the other. the audience cheered, they loved you here, you were such an interesting victor to the capitol.

“tell us, did you leave a special someone at home? i don’t believe you didn’t.” laugh erupted from the crowd but everyone awaited your answer.

“thank you, caesar. what a..nostalgic feeling to be here again., but i didn’t, really.” you smile sweetly, your eyes searching for a head of bronze waves underneath the podium but the moment of silence flickerman left you was way too short, for you to be successful. and also technically, you weren’t lying. the special someone was there with you.

“unbelievable. such a beautiful young lady. ain’t i right gentlemen.” the crowd cheered once more before caesar asked you other number of questions.

“you did good, now you two should get some rest, the raiting starts early again tomorrow.” haymitch said as he walked with you and peeta to the elevator after introducing you to his friends, seeder and chaff, the victor tributes from district eleven.

you gave a hum in an answer, leaning against the glass wall of the lift while it gone up, not paying attention to the conversation haymitch had with peeta, getting lost in your thoughts once again before johanna’s loud voice pierced through the compressed space.

“care to unzip?” she grinned at peeta which you just rolled your eyes over, until by the corner of your eye you caught familiar tall frame that stepped in just behind johanna. finnick.

“haymitch.” the victor from district four cocked at your mentor, who just gave him a nod, brief annoyance flashing over his expression, just before johanna completely stripped off her clothes having all of the three blond’s eyes on her.

“thanks. lets do it again some time.” she called over her shoulder winking at you, before walking away into the hallway of the seventh floor where her quarters were.

“thank you.” the oldest member of the group answered and finnick threw a smirk at you making you roll your eyes once again, not even noticing haymitch’s judging look thrown into your boyfriend’s direction.

“not tired, o’dair?” your mentor uttered indifferently, looking everywhere around just to not catch your gaze.

“ve got a great stamina.” the younger blond mused while peeta just shifted awkwardly not comfortable in the position between the two older victors.

you just fake coughed lightly into your fist, reminding everyone of your presence so all the male victors around went quiet rather than being scold for the childishness of their arguments.

“twelfth floor.” the voice in the elevator announced and peeta was the first one to get out just to disappear into his bedroom, wanting to leave you and finnick some space, knowing he will talk to you later, but mainly wanting to get away from any other possible drama.

haymitch almost lazily shuffled out, into the hall, drinking the liquor from his flasks once more, before turning his head to look at you, making that disapproving face.

“use protection.” he just muttered before getting lost as well, before you had any chance to yell something back at him.

“are you even allowed to be here?” you turn to finnick, before he led the two of you slowly to the balcony railing, his hand holding yours.

“i didn’t ask.” is your answer from him along with that charming, kind smile of his. finnick leaned against the railing, reaching his free hand out to cup your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

it was more than comforting, to after weeks of loneliness, spent the night in finnick’s warm, loving embrace, his presence always had the charm to keep the nightmares from haunting every minute of your not so peaceful sleep.

the four days went even faster than it did last time. the individual rating was something that went completely around you and your brain wasn’t able to process much of the given informations, when it was occupied by the thoughts of what is gonna happen tomorrow and if you will live to see what happens after tomorrow.

“pst. hey, hey baby.” the familiar gentle voice took you out pf your thoughts and you turned around to see finnick standing at the doorway of your bedroom. for tonight, you had agreed to sleep separately, so you’d be strong and fully rested at the dawn.

“finnick!” leaping into his arms you take the feeling in, as if it was the first and last time, you ever get to feel his love and care.

finnick smiled, holding you close to his chest his arms supporting your weight as he leaned his head down, kissing your lips gently. then again, and again.

“i’ll see you in the mornin’ m’kay, sweet girl? ‘s all gonna be okay.” he gave you a reassuring look pecking your forehead.

“yea, in the morning.” you mumble, just clinging close to him, not being able to say much right now, feeling your insides being tangled in a one knot and squeezed tightly.

“good night, my love.”

“good night, finn.” unwillingly you let him go only comforting thought being that it all, might soon be over.

[mxgcalvi]

meet me at midnight.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: violence, mature content (mdni), literally all the tw that come w hunger games, abuse, depression, and some sappy shit i’ll whip up.

———————————————————————————

“if we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree”

in which an orphan of district 12 taken in by a peacemaker and his wife finds herself in the hands of the capitol, with only a song and a drunk at her aid.

act one. the 68th hunger games.

chapter one.

chapter two.

chapter three.

chapter four.

chapter five.

[mxgcalvi]

☼ for the better (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; the capitol ruined the one thing you were looking forward to seeing when you finally got free of their prison. and now, you have to work through what they’ve done to help the rebels.

warnings; swearing, torture mention, drug addiction, panic attack description, vomit.

wc; 5.5k

--

“They’re going to the Capitol, (Y/n).” Johanna whispered to you last night, face squished to the crack in your door. 

You sat straight up in your bed, eyes wide and staring ahead, afraid you’d just hallucinated. You didn’t move, waiting to see if she would repeat herself. Right when you thought she’d left, you watched her shadow reappear through the frosted glass, cheek pressed against the frame.

“And they’re going to leave without us.” She continued.

You hesitated, hand gripping your blanket, ready to throw it off to go meet her at the door to ask her what the hell she’s thinking. How did she know you were awake? Finnick surely wasn’t, it was well past midnight, you should’ve been dead asleep. You had half the mind to go back to bed in hopes that she’d leave, but the other part of you wanted to go check on her to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind.

You gently wiggled out of Finnick’s grasp and carefully tiptoed across the compartment to your door. During the day, it usually opens automatically like they do in the Capitol, but the feature is disabled at night in case there are wanderers. 

You pushed the door open a little and found Johanna with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked deranged, as if she belonged in a locked padded cell. Her eyes were large, desperation swimming in them when she leaned forward. How she snuck out of the hospital in this state is beyond you, because they run a tight ship down there.

It was unnerving to see her this way, it reminded you of Annie’s odd behavior after she won. But that could be written off with reason, Johanna showing up at your room door couldn’t be explained. At least, not right at that moment.

“What?” You asked, face twisted. You tried to stick your head out of the door to get a look in the hallway, curious if she was alone. “What are you doing out here? Do you know how late it is?”

“Is he awake?” She asked, ignoring your questions.

“No, he’s sleeping, like I should be right now.”

“Come out here.” She motioned, stepping back to give you space.

You sighed, taking a look at Finnick over your shoulder. He hadn’t stirred quite yet, but you knew it would be a matter of time before he noticed you were gone. He hasn’t let you out of his arm’s reach since you came back from the Capitol. You were sure your conversation with Johanna wouldn’t take long, so you stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you.

As you wrapped your arms around your body, you looked her over. She didn’t seem to be doing too hot. She was shaking like a leaf in high winds, her skin a pale green color, and it looked like she was barely holding onto reality when she spoke.

“What is going on with you?” You asked, motioning to her demeanor. “We’ve hardly spoken since we got here.”

“Who’s fault is that?” She raised her eyebrows, but there was no hostility in her tone. “I’m going through withdrawals.”

“I told you that morphling shit would make you wind up like this.” You shook your head.

“I didn’t come here to get lectured.” She told you sharply. “They’re going to the Capitol.”

Your face twisted. “Who’s going?”

“A whole group of volunteers. They’re planning on raiding the Capitol since District Two joined the rebellion.”

You looked away from her, trying to remember if this had been mentioned to you by Finnick or not. He’s gotten close to Plutarch as of late, mostly due to a certain speech he delivered to Panem a couple weeks ago. It seems as if they’ve finally realized just how valuable Finnick can be to the movement.

“When was this announced?”

“Katniss found out today, after she had gone to talk to Peeta.”

“From who?” You asked.

“Haymitch.” She said, shaking her head. “President Coin doesn’t want any of us to go, especially not Katniss. I didn’t get an invitation, and I’m sure you didn’t either.”

You squinted at her. “I’m not sure…” You trailed off, wanting to tell her you’re not sure you want to storm the Capitol. You just came from there not too long ago, and the way they treated you—the way they treated Johanna and Peeta—was enough for you to decide to never go back. 

Not until the rebellion was over, at least.

In fact, you had told Finnick earlier in the week you’d be more than willing to sit this one out. You’re terrified of them capturing you again, because no one knows what President Snow would do to you this time around. 

“You have to go.” Johanna let go over her blanket, letting it fall to the floor. She suddenly grabbed your shoulders, giving you a shake. “We all have to go. We have to show him that he didn’t get the better of us.”

“Johanna, I am not fit to go into the Capitol.” You told her, watching her face carefully, slightly afraid her explosive attitude would show up. “I’m not in shape to be a soldier and march through the city. You remember what I looked like before the Quell. Now look at me.”

You held out your arms to give her a better look at your body. You had more weight on you then, mostly because you’d spent months bulking up and gaining muscle in preparation. It’s all gone now. The Capitol deprived you of food and strapped you to a chair for almost a month straight. You were lucky you were able to walk when the rescue mission volunteers found you. 

And the diet here in District Thirteen isn’t helping your cause much, either. They’re on a strict ration. They had a bigger portion for you when you first came here, but it was only because they wanted to get you to a healthier weight. Once they realized you were in the ideal weight group for your height and weight, your portions got smaller. And that’s right around the time you knew you were never getting back to where you were before the Games.

“They have a training program.” Johanna told you eagerly, she was waiting for you to bring the topic up. “Katniss and I checked it out. It starts at seven tomorrow morning—or this morning.”

You shook your head at her again, trying to discourage the idea that you were willing to do this. “I don’t want to go.”

“I heard Finnick’s going.” She blurted, and then her hands weren’t holding you in place anymore. She straightened like a plant of wood, losing more color in her face, which you didn’t even realize was possible. She began to resemble a corpse.

Your face dropped at the news, turning to look back at your compartment door. He wouldn’t, would he? He just got you back, so why would he go into the Capitol and risk his life? Is that why he was so happy when you said you wanted to stay in Thirteen?

“Who told you that?” You asked Johanna, tone impatient.

“Haymitch. He told me not to tell you, Finnick wants to keep it a secret. Plutarch convinced him, though. He said it’ll look good in the propo’s.”

It could’ve been true, it sounded exactly like something Plutarch would say.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You can ask Katniss during training tomorrow. She was standing right next to me.” Johanna raised her hands up, surrendering. She didn’t want an argument, she wanted you to have the full story.

The issue is that Katniss wouldn’t lie to you, and Johanna knows that. While Katniss cares about preserving relationships as best as she can, she’s broken some of her own rules when it comes to you. When you met her a couple months ago in the Capitol, you were convinced she didn’t like you.

It was only a couple days after the rescue when she sought you out. She seemed pretty starved of conversation when she pulled the chair up beside your bed. At the time, she’d been on strict orders not to speak due to what Peeta had done to her the night you arrived, but she didn’t care.

The first thing she did was ask you how you felt. And then she told you Finnick missed you a lot, she’d never seen him so quiet and lifeless before. She told you he’d been sedated for a good amount of time following their arrival in Thirteen. As soon as you and Peeta made your first appearance on television in the Capitol, she made sure he was awake and alert going forward in case there were any more broadcasts to follow.

“He loves you.” Katniss said quietly. “I don’t think Peeta loves me that way anymore.”

Katniss felt like a little sister to you at that moment. The state she was in made your heart twist in your chest. She didn’t have much of a childhood to begin with, and what was left had been torn from her entirely. Her sister was reaped, she volunteered, outsmarted the Gamemakers in the Games and won with a boy she’d known for a long time, but wasn’t sure what to do with her feelings.

When you saw them together for the first time during the Quell, you knew the rumors about their relationship being all for show was fake. It might’ve started that way, but it wasn’t going to end that way. She was still learning how to love him, in time she would get used to the feeling. 

She was robbed before she got the chance.

“He’ll come back to you.” You told Katniss. “If there’s even a fraction of the old Peeta in there, he’ll claw his way out.”

Since then, Katniss has made a point to make sure you know she’s on your side. She wouldn’t risk putting that friendship into jeopardy over a lie, right? 

You knew you had to find out for yourself. You sent Johanna away last night, telling her you’d have to figure a few things out first before you made any commitments with them. It was good enough for her. She picked up her blanket and disappeared into the dim lights.

You could hardly sleep next to Finnick, just knowing there was a possibility he’d been hiding the truth from you. It was even harder not saying anything to him this morning before he left to meet Haymitch and Plutarch in the Control Room. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions—not before you had the chance to speak to Katniss first.

It better be worth being up this early. 

You stand with your arms crossed over your chest outside the door Johanna had told you about last night before she left. The clock on the wall tells you there’s only five minutes before the class starts. You press your lips together as you watch teenagers enter the door beside you.

Right as you’re beginning to think they changed their minds about the Capitol, they appear. Johanna looks as awful as she did last night, maybe even worse. Katniss is out of breath and clutching her ribs, which had been bruised in District Two after she got shot by a loyalist.

A peek at the clock tells you that you only have two minutes to sort this out.

“You showed!” Johanna says, out of breath.

You ignore her, looking at Katniss. “Is what she said true? Finnick is planning on going to the Capitol.”

Katniss makes a face, likely because she doesn’t want to pit you and Finnick against each other, but nods. “He’s already been in training with Gale.”

You look away from them, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You know you should have a conversation with Finnick before you make any decisions. And even if he confirms the training himself, you still don’t want to sign yourself up to go to the Capitol. 

It’s not appealing in any way.

“We have to go inside.” Johanna says, going to the door. “Are you going to come?”

You look down at your arm, finding the schedule District Thirteen has given you for the day. It’s just a bunch of classes, learning stuff about the bunker you don’t necessarily care about. As soon as the rebellion is over, you’re going home. Maybe you’ll come to visit, but not for a long time.

“I guess.” You sigh, following her.

Inside, you’re surrounded by young teenagers, a telling sign this is a beginner class. Just one look at your friends’ faces tells you they didn’t realize the three of you would be placed here, so you let it go. You know you’re rusty, but you can’t be that rusty, right?

You can, it’s entirely possible. 

You spend a good ten minutes stretching your muscles, getting you ready for the strength exercises that have been prepared. You get through these fairly easily, because they’re nothing you haven’t done before. All you do is drop the weight from what you were at previously, and you skate by fine.

Johanna seems to keep up with you, but Katniss is a different story. It’s clear she’s in pain every time she moves. And when the five-mile run outside is announced, the expression on her face just drops. Johanna tries to keep her motivated, but after the first mile, they seem to be done.

“I can’t do it.” Katniss gasps, hands hovering over her ribs. “I’m going to talk to the trainer.”

She limps off, leaving you and Johanna to wait for her. You begin to shake your head as soon as Katniss’s back is turned to you. “This is a stupid idea, really. She’s not healed yet, and you’ve got the shakes.”

“I can handle my shit.” Johanna says back. “I want to go to the Capitol.” She crosses her arms. “You’re a liar, by the way. You said you were in no shape to do this.”

“I thought we’d be in a more advanced class.” You tell her, tilting your head. “I’m not a beginner.”

“We have to work our way there.” She tells you. 

You look away from her, not speaking for a long minute. “That’s if I stay.”

Johanna sighs loudly. “(Y/n), even if you don’t go to the Capitol, you should be joining us. You spend all your time kissing Coin’s ass and for what?” A teenager passing by gives Johanna a dirty look. “Oh, bite me.”

“I don’t kiss Coin’s ass.”

“Then why are you sitting in her classrooms, following her schedule?” Johanna motions to your arm.

“I don’t have anything else to do.” You shrug.

Johanna motions to the outdoors behind her. “Now you do!”

You shake your head at her, getting tired of talking to her about this.

Her voice is more calm. “We used to be close and we’ve barely seen each other since the Games, you’ve said so yourself. Who says you can’t build up your muscles while hanging around?”

“Johanna, I’m not making any commitments until I’ve talked to Finnick.” You tell her, causing her to roll her eyes. “But I’ll think about it.”

She waves her hand, she must be tired of you, too. Katniss comes back, thankfully, holding up a paper between her fingers. “I’m going to the hospital to get treatment for my ribs, Soldier York wrote it up for me. I told her I’d be back for this afternoon’s training session.”

“I will not.” You tell them immediately. “I’m going back to my compartment.”

“You won’t stay to run the rest of the four miles?” Johanna asks, her tone disappointed. 

“Nope, I’m good.” You start to back away. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Thanks for coming.” Katniss waves. 

“Have fun with your rib treatment, I heard it’s hell.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She tells you.

You leave after this, entering the door to the bunker. At the elevator, you’re searched to make sure you’re not taking in anything that’s not allowed. When you try to ask what wouldn’t be allowed, they wave you in. 

You get sent down several floors, until the elevator stops. You step out, and wander around the bunker, eventually winding up at your compartment door. Finnick shouldn’t be out of the Control Room for another hour, so when you open the door, you don’t expect to see him sitting on the bed.

He’s got one leg hanging off the side, the other tucked beneath his thigh. There’s a notebook in his hand, he’s slowly flipping through the pages. It looks like he’s not really reading, just skimming what’s on the pages.

“Hey,” You murmur, he looks up from what he’s doing.

He closes the notebook, setting it on the bed. “Hey, honey. I thought you’d be in history class by now.”

“I skipped it.” You tell him, stepping inside to shut the door behind you. There’s no need for everyone in your hallway to hear what you and Finnick are going to talk about. “I actually decided to go somewhere else this morning, because of what Johanna said to me last night.”

Finnick’s face twists. “Johanna came by last night?”

“It was actually really early this morning.” You tell him, leaning against the wall. “I’d say about two.”

He’s confused, lifting his shoulders to shrug.

“She said it’s been confirmed there’s a group of volunteers being sent to the Capitol. In fact, some people have been training this entire time.” You tell him, lips pressed together.

Finnick closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “(Y/n).”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask, throwing a hand out. “I have to learn from a line of people you’ve signed yourself up to go there? You didn’t think that was a decision to make together?”

“You didn’t consult me when you volunteered for the Quarter Quell.” Finnick says.

You can feel your jaw set. “So that makes it okay for you to hide this from me? I did my time for volunteering—I spent weeks in the Capitol learning from it.” Your face twists. “Are you trying to punish me? Is that what this is?”

“No, (Y/n).” Finnick’s voice is softer.

“Then Plutarch manipulated you into doing it then, like he’s done before.”

“I can make my own decisions without Plutarch.” Finnick gets to his feet. “I’ve been listening to their strategies. It’ll be fine, I’m sure I won’t be put into any real danger, anyway.”

“Then what’s the point?” You ask.

“I can’t just sit idly, (Y/n).” He shakes his head. “Not after what Snow did to me for years. I thought you of all people would understand.”

“I do.” You tell him, nodding. “So, if you’re going, I’ll go too. And we can just beat Snow down together, then.”

Finnick’s face changes, “That’s not a good idea, you just got back from the Capitol. You told me a couple days ago you wouldn’t want to go.”

“That was before I knew you’d be leaving me here.” 

—

The conversation didn’t end well with Finnick last night. You kept going in circles on whether or not either of you should go. 

He was really stuck on what you’d said to him earlier this week about not wanting to go to the Capitol. It was the main point of his argument, that there was nothing wrong with the fact you wanted to stay home, and he thought you should, anyway. You’ll be safer in Thirteen.

You were trying to tell him you want him to stay with you. While he does want to show the Capitol they don’t scare him—the truth is he should be scared. What they did to you… they’ll double it. They’ll triple it after the broadcast he made live telling Panem President Snow’s greatest secrets. 

He was so close to getting your point about the safety, but he didn’t want to listen. At the end of the night, after hours of going at it, he wished you luck during training. He told you that you, Johanna and Katniss were so far behind, you’d be lucky if you were able to go to the Capitol at this rate.

You know he was trying to discourage you, which is exactly why you got up at seven this morning to meet your friends at the door. And both of them look like shit. You don’t even realize it’s Katniss and Johanna until they’re stopping in front of you.

“What happened?” You ask, looking between them.

Both of them have deep bags beneath their eyes, Johanna looks worse than she did yesterday. 

“It was a long night.” Katniss says.

“That’s an understatement.” Johanna mutters. “So how’d it go with Finnick?”

“He’s stubborn.” You tell them. “I’m stubborn. He wants to go but doesn’t want me to go. I don’t want to go and he doesn’t want to stay.”

“So…?” Johanna asks.

“So, I’m going to make him miserable and go to the Capitol.” You tell her.

Johanna’s face lights up, and it takes everything in you not to smack the look off her face. You motion for them to go through the door first, Katniss jumps forward, turning the handle and throwing it open.

Your heart seizes in your chest. It’s raining buckets outside, and it probably has been since last night. The entire outside area is already flooded, dirt has turned to watery mud. It’ll be a matter of seconds before you’re soaked to the bone.

You try to swallow the tight feeling in your throat, hands shaking at your side. Johanna seems to have the same reaction, hesitating. She got it just as bad as you did in the Capitol, just a different way. 

Katniss looks between the two of you. “It’s just water. It won’t kill us.”

You eye Johanna, finding a certain determination come over her face. She grabs your wrist in an iron grip, pulling you out after her. The moment the rain touches your face, you know it’s only a matter of time before a meltdown comes. You rub your chest with a closed fist, trying to get the impending doom feeling to leave.

Soldier York starts from the beginning, having you repeat a lot of exercises from yesterday. You try to focus on pushing yourself to your limit, because then you can blame your shaking body on exertion, and not the fact you’re barely holding yourself together.

When it’s time to run the five-mile course again, you line up alongside Johanna and Katniss, but at the pace they’re going, you’ll be stuck outside forever. So, you wish them luck and abandon them half a mile in, trying to distract the rising attack.

The rain pelts the bare skin on your upper half, since you abandoned the top of the jumpsuit at the compartment so you could get more air today. You just about overheated yesterday, so you tried to think ahead, never imagining it would be raining. 

As you suck in another breath through your nose, desperate for air but not desperate enough to stop for it, rain water makes its way into your system. The familiar burning sensation starts, forcing you to try and stop in your tracks. Your foot hits a slippery spot of a puddle, and you find yourself on the ground, soaked in mud and water.

The lightheadedness begins, you suck in air like a fish out of water. As you turn over to get up, you nearly slip again. You stumble over to the nearest tree, hand against the bark to keep you upright as you stare down at the greenery below you. 

You know you need to calm down, that’s what the doctor in Thirteen told you. It’s the same advice Johanna was given, but it’s not that simple for you. While she can drag her ass out into the rain—you can’t. You haven’t. 

The rain is pounding on your backside, hair drenched and sticking to your skin, streams of water sliding down your face. 

In the middle of catching your breath, your breakfast comes back up without warning. You cover the grass and fern beneath your feet in oatmeal and fruit, which is what was served at breakfast this morning. You cough out the gross stuff that’s still your mouth, wiping your face with the back of your hand. As soon as you stand upright, the dizziness comes back full force, making you stumble back and slip in the puddle from before. 

The world goes dark.

When you open your eyes, you’re in the hospital. There’s a monitor beside your bed that’s beeping, the lights have been dimmed to let you sleep, and your blankets are pulled up to your chest. When you look around the room, you find Finnick at your bedside, head and arms resting on the bed, completely knocked out.

You raise your hand, reaching over to caress the back of his head. 

This is your fault. If you’d listened to the head doctor here in Thirteen, you’d be on a better path. Instead, you opted for the easy way out and the shorter recovery sessions because you didn’t want to face what they’d done to you in the Capitol. You didn’t want to admit to your worst fears.

Finnick urged you to keep going. He told you that you’d feel fine up until the moment you weren’t. So far, you’ve been managing the panic attacks that come, and you take care to avoid the triggers. You knew the rain was a risky move, but Johanna didn’t leave you much of a choice. 

Besides, you figured if she could do it, then you could too. She has the exact same fear you do now. They just took it a step further for her by electrocuting her. While you—you were strapped down, defenseless. They waterboarded you because they knew it would do the most damage.

Coriolanus Snow knew it would ruin your identity. 

He knew you thought of yourself more than just a victor. While other Career victors consider themselves champions because of the title, you never did. During every interview and every speech given about you, you made sure they introduced you as a District Four citizen first.

You take pride in where you come from, because you can’t imagine growing up any other way, you’ve spent your entire life in water. Since you were able to walk, you were taken to the beach, you were swimming in the water, you were fishing in a boat.

And they stripped that life away from you, one waterboarding session at a time.

They made District Four sound like a nightmare.

You’re not entirely sure what your plan was after the rebellion. You knew you’d need more help, but you didn’t want it. You didn’t want to see the head doctor four times a week, just for him to tell you that it’ll take time to heal. It’s the last thing you wanted to hear.

You don’t have time. He was talking years in those meetings, suggesting that you’d stay in Thirteen until you felt fit enough to leave. The rebellion will hopefully be done in the next few months at the rate you’re going, you’re not willing to stay any longer than you have to here.

It’s not home. 

You were hoping you’d just be able to forget it. If you stopped talking and thinking about it, then it would eventually go away. It seemed to work for most of your problems, so you didn’t see why it would be such an issue here.

You can feel a tear running down your face, you brush it away with your shoulder. As soon as you sniff, Finnick stirs. You remove your hand from the back of his head, watching him sit up in the chair. He seems tired, but blinks away the heaviness while he takes your hand in his.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“I don’t even know.” You admit. “Defeated, maybe?”

The corners of Finnick’s mouth turn downwards. “You can’t let him win.”

“He already did.” Your eyes fall to the bed. “Look at what’s happened to me. I can’t even go out in the rain—you know how much it rains in Four?” Your lips tremble. “I can’t go home.”

“You can.” Finnick tells you, squeezing your fingers. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You shake your head.

“I’ll go to training with you, if you want.” He offers, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. “We’ll get through it together.”

“You don’t even want me to go in the first place.”

“It’s not that, (Y/n).” Finnick sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to go back there.”

There’s a beat of silence. “So you’ll just abandon the Control Room?” You ask.

“They don’t really need me in there, anyway. I’d rather be with you.” He lifts your hand to kiss the back of it. “I’d always rather be with you.”

“You say that now, but you’ll be regretting it tomorrow.”

Finnick smiles, “We’ll see.”

—

Johanna and Katniss are waiting in front of the training door when you show up with Finnick. There’s a mix of emotion on their faces, you gave them no warning you’d be bringing Finnick with you.

“You’re going to be disappointed today.” Johanna remarks, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re in a lower class.”

“I know.” Finnick tells her, tilting his head down at her. “No fault but your own.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Read into it.” Finnick says, placing a hand on your back. “I’m not here to criticize, (Y/n) wants me here.”

Her eyes switch to you, and you can tell exactly what’s going through her head. She’s calling you a traitor. Finnick kept a secret from you, so why would you want him out here? You’re supposed to be trying to prove a point.

“Then you’ll be able to keep an eye on her for us.” Katniss muses. “We can abandon the leash.” She nudges Johanna.

“Yeah, whatever.” She’s disinterested.

“Don’t take it personally, Johanna.” You sigh. “This isn’t about you.”

“We could’ve combated it together.”

“Look at how that ended yesterday.” You hold your arm out. “I can’t do that approach.”

Finnick clears his throat. “The training’s about to start.”

“Good.” Johanna says, stomping off. 

She swings the door open, revealing that it’s raining again. It’s not nearly as bad as it was yesterday, but you’ll be wet by the time you’re done this morning. Johanna hesitates for merely a second before she goes out, Katniss follows quietly.

It’s starting already, the pounding in your chest, the sweaty palms. Finnick can see this, he takes your hand in his, massaging out the fist you’ve formed. “Just take it slowly. Soldier York knows to start with you. She’s going to do the exact same thing she did yesterday.”

“I want to be out there.” You tell him. “I want to be there when she starts.”

“Let’s go, then.” Finnick says, gently ushering you forward. “What’s the part that got you yesterday?”

“Breathing in the water, being soaked.”

“That used to be your favorite part.” Finnick says, you’ve stopped in the doorway, observing what the trees look like today. “You used to drag me into the rain, wanting to dance, singing our district song.”

He brushes your jaw with his hand, probably wanting you to talk.

“It’s natural, (Y/n), and it’s not here to hurt you.” He reminds you. “This rain has no intention. Snow has intention.”

“I know.” You murmur, clutching onto your jumpsuit’s sleeves. 

You step out into the rain, it’s much more gentle than yesterday, but it doesn’t stop you from fearing you’ll have a repeat of yesterday. Finnick’s beside you, though, taking every step slowly, making sure you’re okay before moving on. He doesn't let you power through like you’d done yesterday. 

You manage to keep up with Soldier York’s class, and this time it doesn’t feel like the world is closing in on you. By the time the five-mile run comes around, you’re feeling a lot better. Finnick reminds you that as long as you feel like you can handle it, then you should absolutely push yourself.

About three miles in, Finnick’s pace slows, wanting to catch his breath. You stop too, hands on your knees, taking deep breaths. Finnick brushes your hair back, which is surely tangled. Last night, the nurses worked to fix your hair. Today, they told you to tie it up so it wouldn’t nearly be as bad. 

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Good.” You nod, standing up straight. “Thank you, Finnick.”

“For what?” He laughs, wiping water off your face.

“For being beside me.” You pull him closer. “I’m sorry about the other night. I just—I don’t want Snow to ruin you like he did with me.”

“Honey, you’re hardly ruined.” Finnick gives you a quick kiss. “This is something we can work through, and by the end of it, you won’t even remember what happened.”

“It’ll be a distant memory.” You breathe, pressing your head to his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing. “A distant memory.”

[mxgcalvi]

Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..

a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.

“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.

you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”

johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”

katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.

“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”

they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.

“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.

suddenly the island began to spin.

your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.

you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.

you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.

finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.

“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”

there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.

finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.

“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.

you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.

finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”

finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”

“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.

“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.

“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.

finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.

finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.

he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.

it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.

“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”

there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”

your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.

“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.

“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”

finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.

“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”

johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.

[mxgcalvi]

masterlist

the hunger games

finnick odair

born to die; part 2 — having just finished your victory tour, you, the winner from district 4, are forced to confront the reality of winning the games. luckily, you know someone who's done this before — finnick odair.

close to you — you're both victors, him from four and you from eight, assigned to mentor tributes from district nine who lack a mentor of their own. you hate him because he played the role so well, accepting the gifts and glory of the capitol with a wide smile and charming words. unbeknown to you, the feeling is not mutual.

till forever falls apart — not quite friends, but not quite lovers; you and finnick odair have been living in a careful balance that always leaves the both of you wanting more. when the third quarter quell arrives, you realize it’s better to be late than never.

still into you — since you were young you've always had a friend in finnick. somewhere along the line, you fell for him, and he fell harder. if only either of you knew it. (coming soon!)

peeta mellark

coming soon!

johanna mason

coming soon!

star wars

anakin skywalker

coming soon!

obi-wan kenobi

coming soon!

padmé amidala

coming soon!

marvel

steve rogers

coming soon!

bucky barnes

coming soon!

natasha romanoff

coming soon!

sam wilson

coming soon!

there are definitely more characters and fandoms i write for i just can't remember them lol. feel free to request <3

[mxgcalvi]

Silver Glow of Moonlight.

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick finds comfort in your arms after waking up from a nightmare. (based on a req!)

warnings: hurt/comfort, heavily mentions of prostitutions!! the usual hunger games

word count: 3.7k

You and Finnick go back a long way, your lives once running parallel like boats tied to the same dock. Both children of fishermen, both raised on the same windswept shores, and both products of the same weather-beaten district school. It was inevitable, really—how the two of you ended up as friends, bonded over sunburnt afternoons and saltwater in your hair.

But that friendship, like most things touched by the Capitol, didn’t survive for long. When Finnick won the 65th Hunger Games at just fourteen, it felt like the boy who used to yank you out of your house just to see who could catch the biggest fish didn’t come back. Or maybe he did, but not in one piece. The Capitol cheered for their bronze-haired darling while you watched the light drain from someone you once knew. The arena didn’t just kill twenty-three tributes that year—it buried Finnick too, just in a different way.

After that, he shut you out completely. Wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t even look at you. It was as if whatever thread tied you to him had been cut clean through. You drifted apart like a boat slipping quietly from its moorings, vanishing into open water.

And strangely enough, it didn’t destroy you the way you thought it might. Maybe it was because, deep down, you’d already mourned him the second his name was drawn. Because how could a boy who spent his days spearfishing in the shallows and racing you along the beach possibly survive the carnage waiting in that arena? You’d made peace with losing him long before the cannon sounded.

But tides are strange things. They go out, yes—but sometimes, they come back in. And by the time you turned seventeen, Finnick had returned to your life like the sea reclaiming what it once lost.

You remember that day in piercing detail. The way the air seemed to split open as your name was pulled from the reaping bowl. The stunned silence that followed. The sand clinging to your feet as you staggered toward the stage, every step heavy with dread. The look on Finnick’s face as he stood among the crowd, pale and sick, like someone had reached inside his chest and yanked something vital out. You remember your mother’s sobs, wild and raw, and your father’s arms straining to hold her back as Peacekeepers pulled them away.

Everything after blurred together into something distant and warped, like trying to recall a nightmare through fog. But even through all that, there were moments you remember with painful clarity—like the way Finnick seemed to breathe life back into your fading memories. He was everywhere in those first days, relentless in his efforts to prepare you, to give you even the slimmest chance. Advice poured out of him in frantic waves, strategy after strategy until your mind felt like it might split. Mags had to physically drag him away at times, gently reminding him that even soldiers need rest.

And then came the morning of your departure. The sky was wide and painfully blue, the sun casting long streaks of gold across the rooftops of the Tribute Center. A hovercraft hummed quietly, waiting just beyond the edge of the platform. Peacekeepers stood nearby, silent and stiff. You remember your heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of your name being called. And Finnick—he was there, waiting for you beside the metal steps, his expression strained and tight, like he was barely holding himself together.

He didn’t speak right away. He just looked at you—really looked at you—with something like desperation burning behind his eyes. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t the soft reassurance you expected. It was firm. Fierce. He told you that if you wanted to survive, you couldn’t just try. There was no room for hesitation or half-measures. You had to fight. You had to want it so badly it burned through every bone in your body. He told you he’d do everything he could to protect you—but only if you swore, right then and there, that you wouldn’t give up.

And you did. You promised him, with dry lips and shaking hands, that you would survive.

You kept that promise. You made it back. Crowned victor of the 68th Hunger Games, still gasping for air, still blinking away the blood and the lights and the thunder of Capitol applause. Still too young, still too stunned, still foolish enough to think that survival meant freedom.

But Finnick knew better. He’d seen how Snow worked—how he waited, patient as a snake in the grass, until cracks began to form. And despite everything Finnick had done to shield you, Snow found his way in. All it took was one carefully delivered threat, one whispered promise of death, and the walls Finnick had built around you crumbled. Just like that, Snow reached you. And once he had you, he didn’t let go.

Snow exploited you in ways you can barely bring yourself to say, the kind that digs into your bones and never really leaves. But the one that broke you completely came the day he asked—no, ordered—you to attend to a special client of his. You should’ve known better. Should’ve said something to Finnick. Should’ve run, screamed, fought—but it was too late. The damage was done. And there was no undoing it.

You never told Finnick. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t. You were too ashamed. Too furious with yourself for being so stupid, so blind. How could you not see the signs? How could you not understand what Snow really meant with his polished words and polite smile? Maybe he was right. Maybe you were too naive for this world. Too soft. Too foolish.

And so you kept quiet. You endured. Night after night, you were passed around like a prized possession, warming beds that smelled of wine and power and violence. The pain they gave you wasn’t always physical, but it lingered deeper than any bruise ever could. Your clients didn’t just take their pleasure—they stripped you of everything: your pride, your voice, your sense of self. Until you were left staring blankly at the ceiling above rich satin sheets, unmoving, numb, praying to whatever gods might be listening that they would take you in your sleep and be done with it.

When Finnick found out, it wasn’t because you told him. He wasn’t supposed to know. Not yet—not ever, if you had your way. But Finnick had always been too perceptive for his own good. He knew something was off the second you stepped off the train after a three-month stay in the Capitol. That length of time, that kind of assignment—he didn’t need to ask. He’d been there before. He knew what it meant.

He didn’t push. He never asked directly. But he watched, closely. You couldn’t take a breath without feeling the weight of his gaze. He hovered like a ghost—quiet, relentless. He knew. Even if you never said it, he knew.

It all unraveled the day he caught you off guard.

You thought he was gone, finally distracted or pulled away—but he wasn’t. Finnick had come back, maybe to ask if you’d eaten, maybe just to see your face again. He hadn’t meant to barge in. But he did.

And there you were—half-dressed, your shirt slipping off your shoulder, exposing skin that should have never seen the light. His expression shifted instantly, from surprise to something darker. His eyes dropped, locking onto the marks scattered across your body like stains on porcelain.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was quiet, controlled, but laced with a rage that made the room feel colder. He stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning each bruise, some still raw and purple, others fading yellow like dying stars. His hands hovered near you but never touched—until you flinched.

That was what did it. That single, involuntary recoil. The way you pulled away from him, like he might hurt you too. It shattered something in him. You could see it on his face—the heartbreak, the betrayal, the helplessness.

You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat and collapsed into a sob. The dam broke without warning. Your knees hit the wooden floor with a harsh thud, and all at once the grief came pouring out, shaking your body with the kind of cry that made your chest burn. Finnick dropped beside you without a second thought, gathering you into his arms, careful, gentle, as if you might break beneath his touch. He held you close without pressing too hard, arms curled around you like he could shield you from every memory.

That night, a silent understanding formed in the spaces between each whispered truth. You told him everything. Every bitter detail. Every horror that came after your victory tour. There was no point in holding anything back anymore—what dignity did you have left, when it had already been stolen from you by hands that touched and claimed you like property?

Finnick didn’t flinch. Instead, he told you his truth too, peeling away the mask he wore so effortlessly. And it floored you—because you never expected it. Never imagined that Finnick, with his charm and bright Capitol smile, was carrying the same weight. But he was. He always had been. You cried for him too, the way he cried for you, and the two of you stayed there on the cold floorboards, tangled together, broken and bleeding and finally seen.

As time passed, so did the tide. It always pulled deeper, sometimes farther than you thought it ever would—but it always returned to the shore. That’s how you came to understand your relationship with Finnick. A constant ebb and flow, shaped by trust and the quiet vulnerability you shared in the hollow of sleepless nights, when the nightmares clung so tightly to your chest that you couldn’t bear to close your eyes.

You and Finnick moved like one. Attached at the hip—where he went, you followed, and where you stumbled, he steadied you. Always watching each other’s backs, always circling just close enough to keep the Capitol guessing. It wasn’t just habit—it was survival. And it worked. Most of the Capitol’s elite tired of your closeness, irritated by the way you hovered over one another like a pair of stubborn shadows. But some—most, in fact—found it thrilling. They took pleasure in watching you both, fascinated by the way you moved in rhythm, in step, as if you were made from the same breath. There was a kind of beauty in it, they said. A kind of chemistry. And that only made the offers more frequent, more invasive.

There were nights when one of you came back from a meeting quieter than usual—eyes glassy, shoulders rigid, mouth set in that too-still line. Neither of you ever had to ask. The other just knew.

Sometimes, it was Finnick who would come in, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. He’d drop his coat onto the floor without a word, his hands trembling just enough for you to notice. You wouldn’t ask what happened. You’d just rise from the edge of the bed and walk over to him, pulling his hands into yours, guiding him to sit. You’d wash the glitter off his face with a damp cloth, even if it wasn’t yours to clean, murmuring small things—pointless things—just to fill the silence. He wouldn’t speak, not at first. He’d just watch you, his gaze softening like waves retreating from the shore. And when he finally lay down beside you, he’d press his forehead to your shoulder and whisper, “I’m okay,” like it wasn’t a lie.

Other times, it was you. You’d return to your shared suite on unsteady legs, the Capitol perfume still clinging to your skin like rot. Finnick would be waiting—he was always waiting—and the moment you stepped inside, his expression would change. He never said your name. He didn’t have to. He just pulled you into his arms before the mask slipped off your face. He held you through the shaking, through the tears you refused to let fall until the door was closed behind you. He never asked you to talk, but he’d stay up all night if you needed him to. Sometimes you just lay there in silence, your head on his chest, counting each breath like it might steady the ache inside you.

There were moments in public, too—subtle things that no one seemed to notice unless they were watching closely. When a client reached too far, too fast, Finnick’s hand would already be at your lower back, gently guiding you away under the pretense of a dance. When someone whispered something cruel in Finnick’s ear, your fingers would brush his knuckles, anchoring him before he could react. Sometimes it was a glance across the room. A nod. A hand on the knee under a long tablecloth. Little things that said: I’m here. I see you. I won’t let them break you.

And they tried. Oh, they tried.

But the Capitol never really understood that you weren’t just two victors thrown together by convenience. You were tethered—by pain, by shared nightmares, by promises whispered into the dark and sealed in blood. You didn’t just survive together. You endured. You healed, in the only ways you could.

Sometimes, healing looked like Finnick drawing a warm bath for you and sitting just outside the tub with his back turned, humming some old tune from home until your breathing evened out. Sometimes it looked like you helping him wash his hair, your fingers gentle against his scalp while he sat half-awake, too tired to speak but grateful beyond words. Sometimes it was curling up together in silence, his thumb tracing the scar along your collarbone, your hand pressed over the steady beat of his heart.

It was never perfect but it was real. And in the world you were forced to live in, that was the only thing that ever felt like home.

It had been a while since you and Finnick shared a bed. The nightmares weren’t as relentless as they used to be—not since you both returned to District 4 two months ago. Slowly, quietly, you’d begun slipping back into the dull rhythms of everyday life. No more scrambling for weapons in the dark. No more waking in a cold sweat after a night with a client. Things were a bit calmer now, still fragile, but no longer constantly unraveling. And that peace gave you both room to breathe, to exist separately. Nights like this had become more common—alone, but not lonely.

You knew Finnick was just a few doors down, staying in the room by the end of the hallway. He liked sleeping near the window, where the ocean was visible from the moment he opened his eyes. You, on the other hand, stayed near the stairs—instinct, mostly. In case something went wrong. In case someone came. That paranoia never really left you. You weren’t sure it ever would. Even now, in the safety of your district, knowing that no one could reach you here, the dread lingered. Because how could it not, when you lived with a president who preferred to gut people slowly—with favors and secrets instead of blades?

You were halfway lost in thought when the soft creak of your door pulled you back. Your head snapped up on instinct, breath caught in your throat, heart thudding.

But it was only Finnick.

Relief bloomed in your chest the moment you saw him, his figure framed in the moonlight like a ghost coming home. You hadn’t heard his footsteps in the hall, which made your pulse stutter in that split second of confusion. He’d always been quiet, but tonight he was silent in a way that made your skin prickle.

“Finnick?” Your voice came out low and hoarse, rough from hours spent saying nothing, staring at the ceiling, sinking into memory.

“Hi,” he murmured, and the word cracked a little at the edges. Tired. Strained. Something wasn’t right.

You squinted through the dim light to get a better look. He stood just inside your doorway, shoulders curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. His hands fidgeted with the doorknob behind him, and his weight shifted restlessly from foot to foot. His head hung low, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Finnick,” you said again, sitting up, concern sharpening your tone.

That’s when his eyes finally lifted to yours, and you saw it.

The wild panic still swimming behind them. The dazed, unfocused look that came after a nightmare—the kind that clung to him long after he woke. The moonlight caught on his cheek, and you saw the dried salt lines trailing down from his eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. You reached out your hand.

He didn’t move at first. Just looked at you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Like he might break whatever fragile peace the two of you were keeping tonight. But when you wiggled your fingers again, urging him closer, he caved.

He moved quickly after that—long, purposeful strides across the room. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he slid in beside you without a word. The comforter shifted as he pulled it over his body, fitting against you like he never left. His head found its place on your chest, just over your heart, and you let your arm wrap around his shoulders. Your fingers found their rhythm—slow, soothing circles against his skin. His breath hitched once, then settled.

And in that quiet, where only the beating of your heart filled the room, he let himself fall apart in your arms without saying a single word.

You feel the rise and fall of Finnick’s chest against your side, the way he breathes through his nose slowly, as if he’s trying to calm a storm that’s already passed but left wreckage behind. His fingers curl slightly into your shirt, holding just enough to feel anchored, but not enough to cling. You don’t speak at first, letting the silence settle around you like fog rolling in from the sea.

Eventually, he shifts. Just barely. His voice is soft, muffled against your skin.

“I hate when it feels real,” he murmurs.

You don’t need to ask what he means. You’ve been there, too—caught in those dreams where the Capitol drags you back into its velvet cage and paints your smile in blood.

“What was it this time?” you ask gently, keeping your hand moving, never stopping.

He pauses, like the words are stuck in his throat. Then, slowly, “You weren’t here.”

You blink, surprised, but you don’t say anything yet. He keeps talking, voice growing quieter with each word.

“They took you somewhere. Somewhere I couldn’t get to. I kept looking, but every hallway led back to that stupid white room with the glass floors. I could hear you screaming, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t move.”

You press your hand a little firmer against his shoulder, grounding him. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Finnick lets out a shaky breath, his hand fisting gently in the fabric of your shirt.

“I know. I just—” He swallows. “It felt like it did when I thought I lost you. After your first client.”

You close your eyes for a moment. That memory, heavy and cold, settles in your chest like a stone. There are things that don’t need to be said aloud anymore. Not between the two of you. They live in the quiet between heartbeats, in the way your hand doesn’t stop moving, in the way Finnick presses himself closer to you like he needs proof you’re not going to vanish the moment he falls asleep again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him. “And if they try to take me again, they’ll have to go through you first.”

That earns the faintest huff from him, something caught between a laugh and a scoff.

“They’d have better luck wrestling a shark,” he mumbles.

You smile faintly, tilting your head so your chin rests atop his hair. “That’s the spirit.”

There’s another pause, then his voice, quiet again: “Promise me.”

Your hand stills for a moment. Then you start again, even slower, more deliberate.

“I promise,” you say. “But only if you promise too.”

Finnick shifts, just enough to look up at you. His sea-green eyes are dull, tired, but filled with something deeper—something heavy and real. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t need to.

His fingers gently squeeze your side.

You feel him begin to loosen, the tension easing from his body piece by piece, like waves pulling back from the shore. His breathing evens out against your chest, his arm settling around your waist more heavily now, no longer braced like he’s ready to fight his way out of the dream.

“I used to think the worst part was the pain,” he murmurs after a long pause, his voice slurred slightly with fatigue. “But it’s not. It’s the quiet. The quiet after.”

You hum softly, fingers brushing through his salt-tangled hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp the way you know soothes him best. “The quiet makes it real.”

Finnick nods faintly, barely moving. “It’s when I remember the names.”

Your hand pauses, then continues. “You don’t have to say them tonight.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “But they’re loud sometimes.”

You don’t answer. There’s no fix for this, no magic words that’ll unmake what’s already been done. All you can do is offer your body as shelter for the storm he carries. You press a soft kiss into his hair.

“You’re safe, Finnick. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then, barely audible, a whisper shaped by exhaustion:

“I like your heartbeat.”

You blink, lips parting, but no words come. He’s already sinking, eyelids fluttering once, then again, before they stay shut for good. His breath warms your skin in slow, even intervals. The weight of his body becomes heavier, less tense, completely at ease.

In the silver glow of moonlight, his features soften. The lines between his brows fade. His lips, slightly parted, twitch with the remnants of something dreamlike—something quieter than nightmares. Something gentler. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe not.

You don’t dare move. You let him stay curled against you, counting the rise and fall of his chest and the way his hair tickles your collarbone.

And as the quiet finally settles into comfort instead of dread, you find yourself whispering the words you didn’t get to say earlier.

“I like yours too.”

[mxgcalvi]

like why are some of you so determined to make everything about Annie reliant on her man…her presence in the Games being because of him, her victory handed to her by him, him being the only one who can calm her down or keep her grounded, him being the only tool she has to handle her mental health, him being the only reason for any of her potential happiness. the narrative doesn’t see her as an independent person outside of him and you are falling prey to its misogynistic trap

[mxgcalvi]

It's hilarious how this fandom acts like Beetee, a grown ass man, didn't build the bomb that killed Prim and innocent Capitol children despite knowing exactly how losing a child feels. and instead y'all constantly bash Gale, a TEENAGE BOY who witnessed an attempted genocide of his people for coming up with the plan as if Beetee isn't just as guilty.

I'm not team Gale by any means, but you guys need to get over your biases and stop acting like he's the literal devil. If you can excuse Beetee, a grown man who, again, knows how losing a child feels, you can sympathize with a teenage boy. It's actually pathetic.

[mxgcalvi]

☼ hunter and the prey (Gale Hawthorne) ☼

summary; Gale's restless that he can't hunt while he's sick, so you take it upon yourself to help him out.

warnings; swearing, animal death. weapon use, ehh gore.

wc; 3.8k

–

In your time of dating Gale, there’s only been a few times where you can remember him getting sick. It doesn’t happen often, he’s got a strong immune system compared to most people. He’s also got a few siblings, which also might be a factor as to why he’s so resistant to the illnesses that spread around District Twelve.

Besides, he goes out of his way to be very careful with staying healthy. He doesn’t like being put out of commission, because that means he’ll fall behind on the routine that he’s worked so hard to perfect over the years. If there’s anything you know for sure about Gale, it’s the fact that he’s set in his ways, and he doesn’t like to change if he doesn’t have to. 

When you first started dating him, you thought that the two of you weren’t going to work out because of it. He didn’t have extra time to spend with you, because it was constantly filled with movement. He’s not really a fan of idle hands, which means he’d much rather find something to do instead of relaxing for even a minute.

It was a hard couple of weeks, until it clicked. You figured out that you had to fit yourself into his schedule somehow if you wanted to be with him, and you did. If you could be around him enough to develop feelings for him, then you could find a solution for this minor problem.

If he went to run errands, then you were on your feet to join him. You’ve been all over District Twelve, thanks to him. You never thought that you’d have to go inside of the Hob, because you manage to scrape by without it, but Gale brought you inside because of trading business. He introduced you to many people that knew him by name, and recognized your face from being around him often. 

And if he was babysitting his siblings for his mom, you were suddenly babysitting with him, too. It was the quickest way you could get them used to you. The good news is that they’re younger, and therefore impressionable. It didn’t take long before you were being hounded each time you came through the door.

The only time you try not to go with Gale is when he’s going outside of the fence, and it’s not because you’re afraid of what’s out there. You’ve gone out on a dare before, and separate times of your own free will to explore what’s out there. You used to sit in the middle of the woods with your sketchbook to draw out what you saw around you. If it weren’t illegal, you would’ve built yourself a house out there already and moved. 

The reason why you don’t go with Gale is because most of the time he’s going out there with Katniss. You met her a good handful of times prior to dating Gale, and now you see her all the time because they’re best friends. The last thing you want is to take away their hunting day, especially since you’ve managed to squeeze yourself into most of Gale’s week already. They can have a day together, and you’ll have to get over being bored for a few hours.

If you really wanted to go out there with Gale, all you’d have to do is ask, and he’d find a day where it would make the most sense. The two of you would have to clear your schedule, aim for a sunny day, and have a reason for going out there. And it usually ends with Gale hunting while you try to draw the deer before he kills it.

It’s not really appealing.

“How much did this medicine cost?” Gale asks hoarsely, holding up the glass bottle that you bought from the local medical shop. If you even stop foot into a doctors office to buy it, they’ll suck your soul from your body as payment.

You give Gale a look, “Don’t ask questions that you know will hurt your feelings.”

“I can’t accept this, then.” He places the bottle onto the table by his bed. “I told you not to buy me anything.”

“And I told you that I don’t care.” You smooth the hair out of his face, and then press the back of your hand to his forehead. He’s warming up again, you should grab him a cold rag. “If you don’t drink it, then my money’s going to waste.”

Gale sets his jaw, glaring at you. He knows that he’s already lost this fight, because that’s the last thing he wants to hear, that you’ve wasted your money on him. “Fine.”

You give him a slight smile, “I’ll go grab a spoon and another rag. Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”

“No, I’ll be fine without it.”

You get up from where you’re sitting on the side of the bed. You leave his room, heading down the hallway and to the living room, where Rory, Posy and Vick are playing. Hazelle’s in the kitchen, carefully chopping up the vegetables you bought for the soup that Gale will be eating later. You and her have decided not to tell him that it came from you. He’ll lose his mind if he finds out.

“Is he doing okay?” She glances at you.

You pull open the drawer that has the silverware, pulling out a spoon, “Yeah, he’s just mad that I got him the medicine.”

She lets out a laugh, “I told you he would be. I really do appreciate your help.”

“I know.” You smile at her, “I’m going to grab him another rag, he’s warming up again.”

“Dinner should be ready soon, are you going to stay?” She rests the knife against the cutting board.

“I wish I could, but I promised my mom I’d be home because she needs help cleaning the house. We’re having guests over.”

“Do you want to take any of the soup home?” Her eyebrows lift.

“No, it’s fine. I got everything for you, and it’s nice to have leftovers.” You smile, “I’m going to give him the spoon and leave the medicine here. It’s the strong stuff, but it should knock out most of the pain.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).” 

“It’s no problem.” You wave her off, heading to the bathroom. 

You wet a clean rag, making sure the water’s cold. You wring most of the water out until it’s damp, before leaving to go back to Gale. He’s sitting up on his bed now, looking over the bottle.

“Is this the sweet kind?” He asks, looking at you, “Tell me you didn’t spend that much on it.”

“No, because that would be lying.” You set the spoon down, and hand over the rag, “It's on-brand, that’s why it costs more.” 

You sit back on his bed, watching his face. He sets the vial back onto the table, “I’m going to be so behind on hunting. Katniss said she would do her best, but we’ve been having trouble catching anything lately.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” You ask, giving him a smile.

He shakes his head at you, “No, I don’t want you spending any more money on me. I’ll handle it.”

“How, Gale?” Your face twists, “You can’t go out there and hunt right now, the heat’ll kill you.”

“What other choice do I have?” 

“Stay in bed and heal.” You raise your eyebrows. “You push yourself too far, you know that? It’s the reason why you get brought down so bad when you get sick.”

“No, I’m used to it by now.” He looks away, “Tomorrow’s got to be the last day.”

You let out a sigh, straightening up, “Speaking of tomorrow, I won’t be in until late because I’ve got plans with my mom. I’ll come in as soon as I can.”

“How late?” His eyes are back on your face, “You expect me to stay in bed without you here?”

“You have your mom.” You laugh, “Shouldn’t be any later than noon. I don’t want you worrying if I come late, though.”

“No promises.” He says, sitting back against the pillows.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile, getting to your feet, “Your mom says that dinner will be ready soon, also.”

“See you later.” He places the rag on his forehead, head falling back as he closes his eyes.

You leave his room, sweeping the door behind you, but it doesn’t shut all the way in case he calls for Hazelle. You say goodbye to the kids on the way out, giving Hazelle a hug, promising to be back tomorrow.

The good news is that you don’t actually have plans with your mom tomorrow. You’re cleaning the house today for tomorrow because she’s the one that has plans. You, however, already decided two days ago that you were going to go beyond the fence for Gale.

This isn’t the first time he’s complained about not being able to hunt, and the fact that Katniss is going to try and catch him up. The both of you know she means it when she says that she’ll try. The issue is that she’s got a busier schedule, she’s watching her sister most of the time. And Primrose isn’t a fan of watching Katniss hunt.

Which leaves you, because you’ve got the mobility and experience of going outside the fence. You wish you could just give them the last of your savings for emergencies like this, but Gale will never forgive you for doing that. And money’s useful for a while, but he’s got a commitment to the people in the Hob, he’s got to trade with them instead of spending his money somewhere else.

You already know where Gale hides his bow, and the spots where he sets up his snares. You just need to follow the path and take your time with the arrows. He says you’re impatient with the bow because you watch him use it all the time, which is true. He’s able to aim and release within seconds, and you don’t want to wait for the perfect moment to shoot.

It’ll be a long day tomorrow.

—

You let out a yawn, not bothering to cover your mouth. Tears appear in your eyes for the hundredth time, you wipe them away. They’re little reminders that you’re up far too early and you would give anything to go back to bed right now.

You glance over your shoulder, checking behind you to make sure that no one is following you. When you go out of the fence, you’re not normally this paranoid. However, most of the time you’re carrying a sketchbook and colored pencils, not an empty bag, a hunting knife and lunch.

You’re going out for a completely different purpose.

There’s no one behind you. You creep up to the fence, getting close to listen for a few long seconds to make sure you don’t hear any humming. You’ve never seen the fence on before, but there’s a first for everything. You’ll be screwed if you get caught on the other side.

When there’s silence, you toss the bag between the gap of the wire, and then you pull the middle one up far enough for you to step through. You let go, reaching to grab your bag, watching as the wire bounces up and down. When you’ve got it secured on your body again, you begin to walk into the woods.

You follow the path that Gale walks, between a tree and a bush, through several patches of grass. Half a mile in, the land begins to dip, leading you down to the tree where Gale hides his bow. As for Katniss’ it’s a mile to the left to spread it out far. When they come to hunt, they don’t play around with chance.

You find the tree with the snarled root, weaving in the air before plunging back into the earth. The base of the tree has a small gap that undoubtedly holds all sorts of bugs. You hold your breath when you reach in, grabbing the bow, and carefully navigating it out. You have to go in again for the arrows that are leaned up on the inside.

You pull five out, which is more than enough for you. You’ll be lucky if you can even catch two without Gale here to guide you. You’re mostly banking on the fact that Gale’s snares have been successful with him gone. It’ll save you a lot of time.

Either way, you start heading in the direction of the first snare, being sure to keep an eye out for anything that might be hiding. It doesn’t take too long before you get there, and find your first rabbit. Gale has the snares set so that it strangles them, because he doesn’t like killing them himself. And it saves him time so he can move on quicker.

You untangle the bunny, pressing your lips together when you lift its limp body, before setting him inside of the bag. You reset the snare, one thing that you’re decently good at, before heading for the next one, further along the bank. Him and Katniss will pick up his bow, walk this path while he takes the rabbits, and then her bow is on the other side. And they like to hunt for hours after, too.

You watch nature come alive, the sun rising from the horizon. There’s nothing else to do. You’d hum to yourself, if you weren’t so afraid of getting caught out here. You also have to keep an eye out for unexpected hovercrafts. There’s been times where they’ve materialized out of thin air, scaring the shit out of you and Gale. 

The next snare is empty, so you continue going. However, you don’t make it far before you’re stopping dead in your tracks, and slowly lowering into a crouch behind a bush. You reach for one of the arrows that are resting inside of the bag, pulling it out, and lining it up on the bow.

A deer.

You’d have to get this shot perfectly to even entertain the idea of taking it down. If you so much as miss and hit its body, it’ll run too far for you to catch it. Gale will be down an arrow, and you’ll feel like an idiot for thinking you can take it down in the first place.

You pull the string back farther.

On the other hand, if you nail this shot, Gale won’t have to worry about coming out here for the next few days. The rabbits are nice and all, but people would go crazy for a piece of a fresh deer, let alone a whole one. It would take you so long to drag it back to the fence, and you’re not even sure how you’d be able to get it into town without people lunging for it, but the look on his face would be worth it.

You breathe carefully through your mouth, keeping the bow steady while you adjust when the deer moves. Its head dips, eyes disappearing. It can’t see you, which is exactly what you need. You’ve seen Gale take down a deer before, and after he told you it’s a hard thing to pull off with one arrow, but he did it.

Which means you can too.

You aim for a spot behind the lower shoulder, because that’s where Gale got, and it went down immediately. It’s hard to run when you’ve got an arrow through your weak spot.

The deer begins to move, you rest the string for a second, waiting to see how far it’ll move before it stops again. You prepare the arrow again, and freeze when the deer looks right in your direction. You can’t move, or it’ll run. They’ve caught onto the hunters in the woods.

Your arms begin to shake from the strain to keep them in this position. You’re about to give up and put it down, when the deer lowers its head again. And right after, you find the tuft of hair that you need to aim for. You fix the arrow, and then release it, watching it shoot through the air and impale the deer within seconds.

It miraculously hits the spot you were aiming for, and you take off after the deer, because its first instincts are to run when it’s hurt. It’s a pain in the ass to run uphill, especially when nature is whipping at you every chance it gets. You manage to keep sight of the deer, and that’s all that matters.

You lose track of how far you run, though, and how much time it takes to catch up to it. It collapses from losing too much blood, and when you catch up to it, it’s struggling to stay alive. You reach into the hunting bag to grab the knife, biting the inside of your cheek. You really, really don’t want to do this.

It takes you too long to muster up the heart to kill the deer, and you start the new journey of dragging it back to the bank where the snares are. You’re sweating and miserable, but you leave it there temporarily while you quickly go through the last of the snares. You pocket three more rabbits, and then go back to the deer.

You spend two hours dragging the deer back through the path you took to get down to the bank, depositing the arrows and bow back into the tree on your way. You leave the deer halfway in the treeline, where you’ll be able to find it.

You sprint out of the trees and to the fence, pausing briefly to make sure it’s quiet before you cross it. On the other side, you start running for Katniss’ house, hoping that she’s home, because she’s the only way this deer is going to get inside of District Twelve without you getting arrested.

You’re out of breath and soaked in sweat when you get to her house. She answers the door, leaving only a gap to see who it is, before she opens it fully. “(Y/n), is Gale okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine.” You gasp, coughing from the way the air tickles the back of your throat, “I went hunting for him, because he was worried.”

Katniss gives you a look of pure judgement and disbelief. You open the leather bag, showing her the dead rabbits inside. The expression drops, she nods, “Do you need help with the Hob?”

“I need help dragging in the deer I killed.” You say.

Katniss blinks, and lets out a laugh, “You didn’t kill a deer.”

“It’s dead with an arrow through its lungs right now. I got it to the treeline but we both know it’ll get torn apart the second I bring it inside. I need help.” You say.

“You’re serious.” She says, it’s not a question, “Give me a minute.”

She shuts the door, you back off of the porch, crossing your arms. It only takes her two or three minutes before she comes out, wearing her booths and the leather jacket she wears while hunting. She walks around to the side of her house, grabbing a wheelbarrow.

“This is the only way we can do it.” She says.

The two of you make the trek all the way back to the fence, where you tell Katniss why you decided to do this for Gale. It’s simple really, you want him to get better faster, and the only way that can happen is if he relaxes about the hunting problem. Katniss agrees, and then she tells you that you just did him the biggest favor.

At the fence, you bring Katniss to where you left it. She helps you get it to the fence, underneath it, and lifts it into the wheelbarrow. This is when she tells you that you have to bring it to Gale’s house. It’s significantly closer, and there you can get Gale so the three of you can bring it to the Hob, because it needs to be sold immediately.

While on the way there, Katniss inspects where you shot it, agreeing that you got it in the right place. You tell her how you chased the deer through the woods and she laughs at you slightly. 

“We’ll be set for the rest of the week.” Katniss says, “Assuming we’re splitting it.”

“Of course, you and Gale will split the winnings. It’s only fair.”

“You don’t want a part of it?” Katniss asks, “I’m sure you could get in good, too.”

“No, this is for you guys.”

When you get to Gale’s house, Katniss sends you inside so she can keep an eye on the animal. Hazelle answers the door, “He’s been worried sick about you.”

“I told him not to.” You sigh, going straight to Gale’s room.

You push the door open to find that he’s pulling on his shoes, face screwed while he does it, “I’m going, mom.”

“No need to.” You say, Gale’s eyes shoot up.

He gets to his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight hug. He squeezes you against his body, “Where have you been?”

“I thought I told you to relax.” You laugh, head falling back to look at him.

He presses a kiss to your lips, holding you there for a minute, until he pulls away, “How could I? You’re late.”

“I think you’re delirious.” You laugh, backing away from the hug, “Come here, I want to show you something.”

“Is it an explanation?”

“More or less.” You pull him to the front door, where you can see Katniss on the other side, arms crossed over her chest.

“You were hanging out with Katniss?” He asks, ducking under the doorway. “Holy shit.”

“I think you’ve got a keeper.” Katniss muses, “Or we’ve got another partner.”

Gale looks at you, “You went hunting?”

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, “You were worried, so I went out and did what I could. I got four rabbits from your snares and reset them for you. And I found a deer along the way.”

“Found?” He asks, laughing, “You shot a deer? With who’s bow?”

“Yours, of course. I couldn’t imagine taking Katniss’.” You murmur, crossing your arms across your chest, “It took me for-fucking-ever to drag the deer through the woods. I had to get Katniss to help me.”

“Are we taking it to the butcher’s or the Hob?” He asks, looking at Katniss.

“Depends on where you think we’ll get the most from it. The butcher will take a portion, and then we can sell it for more at the Hob.” Katniss raises her eyebrows.

“We split it three ways?”

“Two.” You say, “Just you and Katniss, I don’t need it.”

Gale gives you a look, “We’ll save a part of it so we can eat it at my house, how about that?”

“Deal.” You smile.

[mxgcalvi]

Me: *reading a post that makes the joke “Peeta dropped the baby bomb, Gale drops bombs on babies”* haha good one

Also me: you’re missing the point! You’re missing the point! YOURE MISSING THE POINT! He grew up starving. His best friend almost died of hunger. Most of his people live in poverty. He watched children die in a bloodbath every year for the capital’s entertainment. The girl he loved went into the games. Was tortured by the capitol. His district was bombed out of existence. Nearly everyone he knew was killed. Their only crime was being fed up of being hungry and oppressed and sharing the same district as Katniss. All those innocent people. Murdered. He had to take refuge in a district that was bombed out of existence and forced to live underground. Of course he joined the war effort. Of course he designed unethical bombs and battle tactics. He wanted revenge. He wanted the capitol to have a taste of their own medicine. He wanted the rebellion to succeed. And tell me you could live through what he did, and that no part of you would be screaming for Justice and vengeance. Gale is you. You are Gale. He represents a part of feelings and actions that reside within us, even if you don’t act on it.

“But he killed prim!” Exactly! Gale loved prim. She was a second family to her. He looked after Katniss’ family. He saved them from the district 12 bombings. He loved her. He never would’ve put her in danger. He never would’ve put in order for a bombing if it would kill Prim. But coin would. And did. She took what was meant to be a tool of Gale’s righteous revenge for all the suffering he and his people suffered through, only for someone in power to take it and use it to kill someone he loved.

There’s some many lessons to take. We can’t control the things we create. War spares no one. Even justifiable rage and actions can end up rebounding and hurting those you love instead of your targets.

“He drops bombs on babies” is too simplistic of a takeaway and does a disservice to the story and Gale.

[mxgcalvi]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[mxgcalvi]

Thinking about how Wyatt Callow is proof that Dr. Gaul’s and Snow’s assertion that humanity’s essential nature is violent (which is part of their argument for the Capitol’s control being necessary) is false. That “What happened in the arena? That’s humanity undressed… A boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That’s mankind in its natural state.” is false.

I’m sure he had it all calculated. He knew exactly what choices would give him the best odds of survival. He knew that the faster he got out of the initial bloodshed the better his chances would be. He knew that letting other kids die would benefit his odds of survival. He knew exactly what he should’ve done to preserve himself.

And yet, he threw all those statistics and odds, all that reason and logic out the window in the name of protecting Lou Lou, a girl that wasn’t even from his district. He threw it all out the window in the name of helping another human being that was in an unfair situation and had worse odds than him. He knew who the real enemy was; he knew it wasn’t the other kids being taken advantage of by the Capitol just like him.

That is humanity.

[mxgcalvi]

I wish Maysilee Donner would've met President Snow. He wouldve said some corny shit like "Snow lands on top" and she would've eaten the words and chewed them right back up so nasty that he would've been so ashamed to say them ever again.

[mxgcalvi]

Effie is actually not fanservice because she is important to the theme of propaganda in SOTR

Effie is 100% brainwashed AND YET she still hasn't lost her humanity. She believes propaganda completely AND YET she doesn't use it as an excuse to abuse people. Throughout the book, the tributes are constantly dehumanised. But Effie doesn't treat Haymitch that way. She helps the team. She's there for him in the launch room- which Drusilla and so many Capitol citizens would never do.

So there really is no excuse for abusing people, not even "I was lied to" or "i thought i was in the right" or "I was fed propaganda"

You still choose how you interact with people around you and how you treat them.

Thanks for coming 2 my TED talk.