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saleyeniu · 26 days ago

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Matched

Finnick Odair x fem!victor!reader who are constantly introduced to each other [1.2k words]

CW: people trying to introduce Finnick and reader, Capitol behaviours (body modification, eating-purging-eating, no sense of propriety), fluff, a surprise

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

There would be people dressed to varying levels of near insanity. There would be people literally eating until they were sick, then forcing themselves to be sick so that they could continue eating. There would be people approaching you, asking you questions, and running their hands over your clothes or hair or jewelry or body as though having seen the most traumatic moments of your life aired on TV from the safety of their homes made you friends.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

“There you are, darling!” A rather reptilian looking woman you knew to go by Komoda greeted you as she approached; arm aggressively interlocked with another’s who didn’t appear to be all that willing to be there. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

You plastered on your show time smile and offered your hand to Capitol Darling Finnick Odair who accepted it readily, bowing his head slightly as he met your gaze.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“It always is in the Capitol.” You volleyed, smiling back over to the Capitol citizen who seemed very excited to be seeing two of her favourite victors intermingling. “Finnick and I have met a few times, actually.”

Komoda seemed rather bemused at the fact that the two of you had met and not immediately jumped each other's bones. “Oh… oh! Really?”

You hummed in the affirmative.

“Every year when we mentor new tributes.” Finnick explained.

Komoda tried to laugh. “Well, I just think that the two of you would get on rather well.”

“We get on fine.” You continued, feigning ignorance.

“The two of you would make a very handsome couple!” One of her friend’s chimed in, earning him nods of approval from the quickly forming group of spectators.

“Well, looks aren’t everything, are they?” You tried, and a few of the more…altered individuals seemed rather perplexed at the thought. “The two of us might not have anything in common.”

“That’s very true.” Finnick agreed. “Let’s see; how do you feel about the beach?”

“Too much sand; I’m shaking it out of everything I own for far too long afterwards. What’s your favourite pastime?”

“Swimming.” He answered.

“I never learned how.” You continued with pursed lips. “Least favourite season?”

“Winter. What’s your favourite holiday?”

“Christmas.”

Finnick hummed in displeasure before continuing. “Favourite animal?”

“Cats. Yours?”

“Dogs.”

You hummed in displeasure. “How do you feel about white chocolate?”

“Love it.” He replied easily; you scrunched your nose at him before he carried on. “What’s a dealbreaker for you?”

“People who like white chocolate.”

He pressed his lips into a flat line and nodded his head in understanding. “Very fair.”

You looked back over at Komoda and her friends to see them all gaping at the two of you.

“Sorry to disappoint, folks.” Finnick apologized with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s apparently just not meant to be.”

“But…” Komoda started, looking rather crestfallen. “I…I was so sure!”

“You’re not the first to try to set us up.” You placated, placing a gentle hand over the scale-like jewels on the shoulder of her gown. “You probably won’t be the last, either.”

“Maybe the 29th time will be the charm, hm?” Finnick offered you with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t hold your breath, Odair.”

“I can hold my breath for a very long time, sweetheart; I’m a world class swimmer, afterall.”

“Oh, you’re something alright.” You laughed as you turned to walk away, deciding then to begin your rounds of goodbyes before heading back to your suite.

You held the towel to your face for a few seconds, just taking a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet, warmth, and serenity of your post-party ritual.

You were just about to pull the towel away when you felt gentle hands slide around your waist before you were being embraced between two strong arms.

“Long night?” He murmured into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it.

You hummed in agreement and pulled the towel away from your face, smiling at Finnick in the reflection of the mirror.

“It always is in the Capitol.” You replied.

He offered you a knowing smile before pressing another kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you.” He said before reaching around you to grab some makeup wipes to begin removing the work his own stylists put into his appearance tonight. “Anything interesting happen?”

You hummed noncommittally as you smoothed cream over your skin. “Not really. Someone tried setting me up with this guy again.”

“Really?” Finnick asked, feigning intrigue. “Was it a match made in heaven?”

You made a so-so sound. “He was pretty cute,” you allowed, “but I don’t know if it would work.”

“No?”

“No. I mean, for one, he didn’t start drooling the second he saw me. Huge red flag I think.”

With that, Finnick theatrically slammed his hand down on the countertop and levelled you with a disbelieving look. “You mean to tell me that he didn’t immediately fall to his knees in worship?”

“No!”

Finnick shook his head; simply aghast. “You can do so much better, honey.”

Your smile turned soft as you watched him lather some of his face wash between his hands before bringing them to his face. “I think so too.”

By the time he was done with washing his face, you were sitting on the counter with Finnick standing between your legs as you massaged some moisturizer into his skin.

“They don’t know what you deserve anyway.” Finnick states suddenly.

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who doesn’t?”

“The Capitol people; they don’t know what kind of partner you deserve.”

You stayed quiet as you finished working the product into his skin, pressing a kiss to his lips to alert him to the fact that you were finished. You felt rather shy when he opened his eyes and you found yourself pinned beneath his sea green gaze.

“They’d be sorely mistaken if they thought Capitol Darling Finnick Odair was all you deserved.”

You smiled softly at him before pressing another softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m rather fond of this Finnick Odair.”

You relished in the slight pink dusting of his cheeks as his smile grew wider before he pulled you in, cradling you to his chest.

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

It would take your stylists three hours to prep you for the party. It would take you forty minutes to disassemble yourself after the party. The outfits and jewelry you wore would cost more than most District families saw in years.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

The best part was that no one knew you and Finnick Odair have actually been dating behind closed doors for four years now.

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saleyeniu · 26 days ago

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"still?" "always."

Finnick Odair x hijacked!reader who asks what's real or not real [2k words]

summary: a District Thirteen reunion story heavily inspired by the brilliant @ervotica's fic 'a life of our own' & @/ilguna's 'hijacked'! Reader was tortured much like Peeta was into fearing Finnick, finding her playing the game 'real or not real'

CW: fem!reader, discussion of past torture [not described], reader tortured into believing Finnick did abhorrent and disgusting things to her [not described], medical personnel acting as villains sort of, hurt/comfort, hopeful/open ending

Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.

Routine was a word that came to dictate much of Finnick’s life recently; stability. Ritualized schedules were the norm in District Thirteen. But more importantly, routine, stability, and ritualized schedules were deemed necessary and important to your recovery.

Thus, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book - the same paperback book - that he brought with him to your hospital room every day - at the exact same time - which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.

He’d been following more or less the same routine ever since you’d been rescued from the Capitol a few weeks ago, though Finnick could admit visiting you felt slightly better now than it had in the beginning.

The beginning had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him. The beginning had been nothing short of torturous for you.

There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.

Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…

You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified.

Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.

Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again.

Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.

He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting.

“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”

“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner.

“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!”

They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.

The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit.

The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open.

He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question.

“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?”

Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat.

You must not have found one.

“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper - it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob.

Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company.

And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”

“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.”

And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once.

But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked.

So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.

He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack.

“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read.

You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again.

Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.

“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.

You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows.

You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?”

He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all.

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?”

Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”

You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side.

Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.

“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion.

“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask.

You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation.

Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily.

He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me.

“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down.

Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides.

Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you.

“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face.

And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken.

“Always.” He promised.

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saleyeniu · 26 days ago

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Glimpse Of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

previous part | masterlist | next part

Chapter V

It didn't take long for the group to move towards the center island.

“The arena- it’s a clock.” Katniss says as she gestures toward the jungle, pointing at the large tree where the lightning just struck. “Everything happens at the same time, in the same sections. The fog, the monkeys, the blood rain, it’s all on a schedule.”

Finnick exhales slowly, forcing himself to focus. He then notices how you’re kneeling with Wiress, speaking to her in hushed tones, trying to soothe her. The tenderness in your voice tugs at something deep in Finnick’s chest.

Your voice is gentle, soothing. "Wiress, it’s okay. You figured it out. You helped us." You reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re safe now."

For a moment, she blinks, her gaze settling on you. Her lips twitch as if she wants to say something more. But before she can, Johanna calls for you.

You hesitate, glancing between Wiress and Finnick, then press a reassuring hand to her arm before rising to your feet and jogging back to the group.

Finnick watches you go, his chest tightening with something he can’t name. Relief? Fear? Maybe both.

He's quick to take your hand into his.

But then you both hear a gasp.

It happens too fast. One second she’s kneeling there, and the next, her blood is spilling out.

Everything explodes into chaos.

Katniss’s arrow flies before Finnick can even react, hitting Gloss straight in the chest. His body barely hits the ground before Johanna is charging toward Cashmere, screaming as her axe collides with her chest.

Finnick whirls, trident in hand, just as Brutus lunges at Peeta. Finnick doesn’t think. He moves, blocking the attack, his muscles burning with the force of the blow.

He hears you shout his name, but he doesn’t have time to look. His vision is red, focused solely on keeping Peeta alive, on keeping you alive.

And then the island starts spinning.

The ground lurches violently, sending everyone staggering. Finnick’s stomach drops as he loses his balance, the sky blurring into the water, the trees twisting in his vision. He grips the rocks of the isalnd, trying to steady himself, trying to find you.

He can’t breathe. His pulse is a hammer against his ribs. The island won’t stop spinning, and all he can think is I have to find her. I have to get to her.

When the island finally stops moving, he bolts towards Johanna, who's standing by the edge.

“Where is she?!” he shouts

"She jumped into the water when Katniss fell- I tried to stop her but-"

Suddenly, your head breaks the surface. Finnick doesn’t waste a second. He sprints toward the edge, his legs unsteady beneath him, his vision swimming.

“Finn! I’m okay!” Your voice is breathless but strong, and relief floods through him so fast it nearly knocks him over.

But he doesn’t stop moving until he’s on his knees, his arms reaching for you, pulling you close. He doesn't even realize that Peeta was running over Katniss, who was right next to you.

You cough, shaking from the cold and the adrenaline. “I-I’m fine, I swear.”

Finnick presses his forehead against yours, still breathing hard. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers curling into his shoulder. “You really think I’d leave you that easily?”

Finnick exhales sharply, pressing a hand to the back of your head. “Never.”

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

Finnick clutches you tightly, your damp hair plastered to your skin as the last tremors subside. The beach around you is eerily quiet for a moment, the faint sounds of distant waves crashing the only thing filling the tense silence.

Katniss, still dripping from the lake, exchanges a look with Peeta, her expression hard but not without a trace of concern.

"I think we should gather some more supplies," Johanna’s voice cuts through the momentary silence, her eyes narrowed as she scans the beach. "We can’t keep relying on what we’ve got. We need a backup plan, too."

You glance up at Finnick, unsure. "You think we should split up?"

Johanna gives you a grim smile. "If you don’t want to, stay here. But I’m not sticking around to wait for another cannon to go off. I’ll grab what we need; you want to come with me?"

Finnick opens his mouth to protest, but you’re already standing, brushing the sand off your legs.

"I’ll go with Johanna. You stay here, keep an eye on the others," you say, trying to offer him a reassuring smile.

Finnick hesitates, his hand brushing against yours. "Promise me you’ll be careful."

"I will." You squeeze his hand. "Besides, if I’m with Johanna, what could go wrong?"

Finnick sighs, “Take care of her,” he says to Johanna, his voice low but urgent.

“You really think I’m gonna let her die out here?” Johanna grins, her usual bite back in place. “I’ve got her.”

As you and Johanna disappear into the jungle, Finnick feels the instinct to follow, but he fights it, forcing himself to stay put. He watches the others, his eyes flickering over Katniss and Peeta, both looking just as grim as he feels.

It’s hard to concentrate. Every part of him is alert, every nerve on edge. The arena feels… wrong now. It feels like it’s holding its breath.

And that’s when it happens.

The world goes still. The trees above sway ever so slightly, and a silence settles over the arena, one that makes the air feel thick. Then, a scream.

Katniss’s face pales instantly. And then she takes off.

Finnick’s stomach drops. He doesn’t need to hear another word. He doesn’t need to know what’s happening. His legs are already moving, his feet kicking sand as he sprints toward the jungle, heart pounding.

There’s something in the air now, a shrill, unearthly sound that mixes with the already suffocating atmosphere. It’s a noise that makes Finnick’s blood run cold, like a thousand voices crying in agony.

And then, a piercing scream.

"Prim!" Katniss’s voice cracks, desperation bleeding into the air.

"Katniss!" he shouts, finally catching up to her, "Are you okay?"

But before Katniss can respond, the screams start again but it’s not just Prim.

It’s your voice.

"FINNICK!"

He hears it clear as day. Your scream, filled with pure, raw terror. His blood freezes.

"FINNICK HELP ME!"

The cry is so desperate, so agonizing, it makes Finnick stumble, his chest tightening as he pushes harder, trying to break through the jungle. His breath comes in ragged gasps, panic building with every step.

"Finnick- Finnick it's not her! It's just a jabberjay!"

"But what if it is her?! What is something happened?! I need to find her!"

The bird then start to swoop down.

Finnick swats at them as they dive toward him, their beady black eyes glinting like they know exactly what they’re doing, torturing him.

Your screams tear through the dense jungle, so agonizingly real that they make his stomach lurch. He knows, logically, that Katniss is right. That it’s just the arena playing its sick, twisted games. But what if, what if it’s not?

What if something happened to you while you were with Johanna?

What if you’re really out there, alone, screaming for him, needing him, and he’s stuck here, wasting time on a trick?

A jabberjay’s wing grazes his ear, its shriek piercing right through his skull. He swings wildly with his trident, slashing at the air. The jungle is alive with noise, with screams, with torment. Katniss is still calling for Prim, her voice raw, but Finnick barely hears her anymore.

Because all he can hear is you.

"Finnick! Please, please!"

He staggers forward, the vines and roots of the jungle grabbing at his ankles. It’s suffocating, like the arena itself is trying to hold him back.

"Finnick, it hurts! Help me!"

His vision blurs. His breath comes in gasps. His whole body shakes. He needs to get to you.

That's when he finally sees you.

You aren't hurt, instead you're putting your arms out as if you're telling him to stop running.

He doesn't know why until he hits the forcefield.

****

An hour passes.

The screaming stops.

Finnick freezes, his pulse hammering in his ears.

The silence is deafening.

The birds scatter, their cries fading.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, it's you.

You barely have time to react before Finnick reaches you, his hands gripping your arms like he’s grounding himself. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes wide and frantic.

“Are you okay?” his voice is raw, desperate. “Are you hurt?”

"Finny- Finny I'm fine I-"

“I heard you screaming.” his grip tightens for a second before he forces himself to let go, dragging a shaky hand through his hair. “I thought- I thought-”

His hands find your waist, pulling you in. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven.

You close your eyes, your fingers threading through the damp curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay,” you whisper again.

He holds onto you tightly, barely hearing as Johanna shouts and threatens Snow, because all he can think about is the fact that you're okay.

Finnick tightens his grip around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tries to steady his breathing. His whole body still trembles, he’s never felt fear like that before. Never felt that kind of helplessness.

Even when he was being paraded around the Capitol, when he was forced to endure things he could never say aloud, he always had some level of control.

But this?

Hearing your screams, thinking you were in agony, that you were dying, and not being able to reach you? That had shattered something in him.

You press a soft kiss to the side of his head. “I’m right here,” you murmur, your fingers still threading through his damp curls.

Finnick exhales sharply, nodding, but he doesn’t let go. He just needs to hold you for a little longer.

After a minute, he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your waist. Your eyes search his, and he knows you can see everything he’s feeling, the raw panic, the relief, the anger.

Johanna turns away, still muttering curses under her breath. “I swear, if I ever get the chance, I’m putting my axe right between Snow’s eyes.”

Katniss, still shaken, finally moves, rubbing at her arms. “Let’s get out of here.”

Finnick nods, reluctant to let you go, but he forces himself to take your hand instead, intertwining his fingers with yours as you all make your way back to the beach.

Once you all make it back, you turn to Finnick, squeezing his hand. “Let’s sit down for a second.”

He nods, allowing you to pull him toward the water’s edge. The waves lap at your feet, cool and gentle, a sharp contrast to the horror you just endured.

Finnick doesn’t speak at first. He just stares out at the horizon, his grip on your hand never loosening.

“I thought I lost you,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “You didn’t. And you won’t.”

He turns his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “I can’t lose you,” he murmurs. “Not to this arena. Not to them.”

You look up at him. “You won’t.”

Finnick swallows hard, then nods, exhaling as he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You both keep sitting there, your head on his shoulder as he looks out into the distance.

Johanna’s voice cuts through the moment. “Lovebirds!” she calls, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Quit making goo-goo eyes and get over here. Beetee’s got a plan.”

Finnick exhales a short, almost amused breath before pulling away, though his fingers linger on your wrist for a second longer. You give him a small, reassuring squeeze before following Johanna toward the others.

Beetee sits cross-legged on the sand, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns in the damp earth.

"Where do the Careers feel the safest? The jungle?"

"The jungle's a nightmare."

"Probably here on the beach."

"Then why are they not here?"

"Because we are. We claimed it."

"And if we left, they would come."

"Or stay hidden in the tree line." Finnick adds on.

"Which in just over four hours will be soaked with water by the 10:00 wave. And what happens at midnight?"

"Lighting strikes that tree"

"Here's what I propose," Beetee begins, "We leave the beach at dusk. Head to the lightning tree, and that should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight we then run this wire from that tree to the water. Anyone in the water, or in the damp sand, will be electrocuted."

"How do we know the wire's not gonna burn up?"

"Because I invented it. And I assure it, it will not burn up."

You, Finnick, and Johanna share a look and then nod.

Once Katniss and Peeta agree, you all know the plan is now officially in motion.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

It was almost dusk.

You and Finnick were both sitting in the water again, letting the waves lap at your legs.

For a moment it's quiet. Just for a moment.

Finnick sighs, tilting his head back, eyes slipping shut. “Tell me something good,” he murmurs.

You smile faintly. “Like what?”

He cracks one eye open, glancing at you. “Something that makes me forget where we are.”

You pause, thinking. Then, you shift closer, your fingers finding his beneath the water, intertwining.

“After this is over,” you say softly, “we’ll go home.”

Finnick’s eyes flicker to yours. You squeeze his hand.

“We’ll go home, and we’ll sit on the beach, our beach,” you continue. “We’ll watch the sunrise, and we won’t have to run, or fight, or be afraid....We’ll just be us.”

Finnick smiles, squeezing your hand and bringing it up to his lips.

You smile and gaze out at the sky.

"You know…everyone’s probably watching us right now”

He looks out at the water, laughing softly at your comment, “Yeah, i’m pretty sure they are..The cameras just...love us don't they?”

You hum and nod.

He smiles gently, lifting your hand, running his thumb over the back of it. “Do you think they’re enjoying the show?” he teased, resting his head on yours, his hair falling in his face, damp from the salt water.

“Mm…probably”

Finnick chuckles softly, his breath warm against your temple as he presses a fleeting kiss there. The waves rush over your legs, cooling the warmth of his touch, but nothing could shake the weight of reality pressing down on you both.

You shift slightly, your fingers tightening around his, and suddenly, there’s something different in the air. A hesitation. A change.

You swallow hard, staring at the way the waves curl and break against the shore. “Finnick…”

He hums in acknowledgment, still absently tracing patterns over the back of your hand with his thumb.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. “If… when it comes down to it…” You force the words out, even as your chest tightens. “I-I want you to kill me, Finnny.”

Finnick’s hand stills against yours. The world around you keeps moving, waves rolling, wind stirring, but he is frozen.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head, almost as if trying to dispel the words you just said. “No,” he says simply.

“Finnick-”

“No,” he repeats, more forceful this time, pulling his hand from yours. He turns to fully face you, his eyes blazing. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

You blink back the stinging in your eyes. “Finnick, listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me,” he snaps, his voice sharp with something raw, something desperate. “That’s not going to happen. We both get out of here. Both of us.”

You shake your head. “You know that’s not how this works. The plan-”

“The plan isn’t going to fail,” he says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “Beetee is smart. We have a way out of this.”

“But if it does fail?” you challenge, voice shaking. “If something happens? If we’re the only two left?”

He exhales sharply, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I won’t kill you.”

Your throat tightens. “Finnick…”

“No.” His voice wavers. “Don’t ask me that. Don’t ever ask me that.”

“Finnick…please, you need to be realistic…”

"No"

“When it comes down to it…you need to kill me..”

"No"

“You win…you go back to four, and you take care of Mags and Annie…”

"No"

“Finnick.” you say softly. “Listen to me…please”

He doesn’t speak, but nods, his eyes still on yours, his jaw clenched tight, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall, watching and listening intently

You cup his face, tears falling from your eyes. “Finnick I love you so much…but if things don’t go as planned, you need to kill me. You go back to the four and take care of Mags and Annie, they need you more than they need me.”

He can’t bear the tears falling down your face, and that does it, a tear slipping down his own cheek, his hand going from your jaw to your cheek, wiping the tears away

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me promise you that. I can’t. I can’t hurt you, I won’t”

“Promise me Finny…If- when the time comes, I want it to be you. Not someone else. Not them."

He closes his eyes, unable to look at you, it was killing him to do this, but he speaks, his voice cracking, “I-I promise.”

You nod and pull him into a tight hug, tears streaming down your face.

His arms held you tighter, like he was trying to pull you closer, to keep you as close to him as possible, his fingers gripping your shoulder, not wanting to ever let you go

“I love you…Gods above I love you,” he choked out, his voice cracking as he tried to speak, his face still buried in your shoulder.

He pulls away a little, still holding you close. “Now you promise me one thing.”

You nod, "Anything"

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes roaming your features before he spoke, his words shaky, his voice soft, “If I can’t…if we can’t get out of this..”

He pauses, struggling to speak. It was taking everything in him not to cry, his shoulders shaking, “Just…promise me you won’t forget about me. About us.”

“Finnick,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I could never forget you. Not in a thousand lifetimes.”

He exhales shakily, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I want you to remember this. Us. Right now. No Capitol, no arena, no games. Just us.”

Your chest tightens as you nod. “Just us,” you repeat.

Finnick then hears Johanna call out to the both of you.

He sighs and reluctantly gets up, "Let's go.."

You nod and follow him to the rest of the group.

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

Finnick is quiet for the most part as the group travels to the tree, staying by your side, he glances down at you, his gaze flickering from your face and down to your hands as they walk, his fingers gently entwining with yours, holding on tight as he walks.

Once the group makes it to the tree and after "convincing" Katniss to go with you and Johanna, Finnick pulls you into a tight hug.

“Don’t do anything stupid out there. Stay close to Jo.” he mumbled softly, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, letting out a deep, ragged breath

"Same goes to you." you say, kissing him one last time.

He sighs, his hand shifting on your cheek, gently cupping your face, his eyes roaming your features one last time, drinking in the sight of your face

“You better come back to me.”

“As long as you are alive Finn…I will always come back to you”

Finnick watches as you step away from him, your fingers slowly slipping from his grasp. The moment your warmth leaves his hand, a chill settles deep in his bones. He knows this is the plan. He knows you’ll be back. But something in his gut twists violently, warning him that nothing about this feels right.

You shoot him one last look before turning to follow Johanna and Katniss into the jungle, the coil of wire clutched tightly in your hands.

“Let’s move,” Finnick says, shaking the unease from his mind. He crouches beside Beetee, glancing at the spool of wire. “You sure this is gonna work?”

Beetee doesn’t look up, his expression unreadable. “If they can get the wire wrapped around the tree before the lightning strikes, then yes,” he mutters. “It will work.”

Finnick nods, but something still doesn’t sit right.

****

"Katniss get away from that tree!"

****

Finnick wakes with a sharp inhale, his lungs burning like he’s been drowning in saltwater. His head is pounding. His body feels impossibly heavy. For a moment, all he can hear is the faint, rhythmic beeping of a machine nearby.

Where is he?

He couldn't remember much, everything felt like a blur. The last thing he remembered was shouting at Katniss to not shoot the arrow, and then he remember the pain.

But why couldn't he remember where you were?

He blinks against the blinding white light, his vision swimming in and out of focus. The ceiling above him is smooth, metallic. This isn’t the jungle. This isn’t the arena.

Then it hits him all at once-

The lightning. The arrow. The force of the explosion. The way the world had cracked open beneath them.

His stomach lurches as he forces himself upright, his hands gripping the edge of the cot. He’s in a hovercraft. The realization settles over him, but it doesn’t bring relief.

Because you’re not here.

His breath quickens, panic clawing at his throat. Where are you?

His hands are shaking as he turns, searching the room. Katniss is unconscious on a cot beside him, her face pale, a fresh scar on her arm where her tracker used to be. Beetee is further away, still unresponsive.

But you...

You aren’t here.

Finnick’s eyes scan the aircraft when they land on Haymitch, who was seated nearby. He’s quiet for a moment, watching as Haymitch looks down, his shoulders slumped in what can only be described as despair. His heart sank, watching him. Something was wrong, terribly wrong

He swallowed the lump in his throat, slowly approaching Haymitch, calling out to him

“Haymitch?”

His voice was quiet, his heart thudding in his chest, feeling dread starting to set in. He stops in front of Haymitch, his heart beating faster, trying to keep his breathing steady as he looks down

“Haymitch.”

He repeated, louder this time, a hint of desperation in his voice. He could feel anxiety building in his chest, something twisting in his stomach, dread filling him as the silence was deafening. He stared down at Haymitch, trying to make eye contact with him, hoping desperately for some answers

Haymitch looks up. “Finnick…I’m so sorry.” he says in a quiet tone.

His heart sank, feeling that dread start to grow. When Haymitch looked up, their eyes meeting, Finnick’s heart stopped

He swallowed the lump in his throat, the dread starting to grow, already knowing what Haymitch was about to say, his chest tightening, his breath shaky, “Where…where is- where is she?"

“She didn’t make it out. Neither did Peeta or Johanna.” Haymitch says in a somber tone, “The Capitol has them Finnick.”

His breath hitched, feeling that dread explode in his chest, a mix of fear, grief and anger, his entire body tensing, “No…” he choked out, closing his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, every thought in his mind racing.

“Finnick…I’m sorry”

He couldn’t speak. His breath was coming in quick gasps, barely drawing in any air, his chest felt like it was tight, his heart was hammering in his chest, his entire body tense, shaking slightly

“No..” he whispered again, his voice cracking. He shook his head, his eyes still closed, trying to take in what Haymitch had just told him “You promised. You promised that if we protected Katniss that we’d be safe. You promised!”

“I know- I know- I’m sorry-”

He could no longer stay standing, his legs feeling weak, his knees feeling like they were going to give out, he leans forwards, one of his hands gripping the wall to keep himself upright, trying to stay standing

“They…they have her.” he mumbled, speaking more to himself than to Haymitch, his voice quiet and shaking, his grip on the wall the only thing keeping him upright

“And you’ll get her back Finnick. When we get to District 13, I promise that we’ll start planning on how to get them back.”

He nods his head, his breaths shaky as he tries to compose himself, his hand still clutched to the wall, his grip tight, his knuckles turning white. He doesn’t speak, a few more seconds passing in silence before he speaks quietly, “They’re going to torture her.” he said, his voice quiet and shaking, the mental image making him ill, the idea that you might be being hurt right now making him want to throw up.

Haymitch tries to approach him...but he continues speaking to himself, taking deep, shaky breaths between his words, knowing that he’s only speaking to himself at this point, but unable to stop himself from continuing.

“You get scared when there’s too many people around you, and when the lights go out, and you don’t like loud noises..” he takes a breath, his voice shaking, his grip on the wall tightening, his knuckles turning white as the image of you being hurt by the Capitol continued to plague his mind.

“What do you think the Capitol will do to you, when you’re trapped in a dark room, the lights out, and you’re completely alone, with someone coming in to hurt you whenever they want, no idea when or what they’re going to do…you’re going to be completely petrified. You’ll be…”

He clenches his jaw again, his shoulders starting to shake as he continued to hold himself against the wall, his breath coming in shaky gasps, a tear finally falling down his cheek, unable to take it anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking about you right now, about how scared and alone you must feel.

“You’re going to be so scared…”

The thought of you afraid, scared as you were tortured, was like a knife in his stomach, his chest tightening as tears start to fall faster, his breath coming shaky, and ragged as grief and anger and fear filled him

“You’re going to be so, so afraid, and it’ll be my fault. It’s my fault that you’re there. It’s because of me, you’re going to be in pain, it’s my fault…” he choked out, a sob escaping from his throat.

He couldn’t keep talking anymore, unable to choke out another word as the grief finally takes over, a few tears streaming down his face, his shoulders visibly shaking as he keeps his eyes clenched shut, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the wall as he tries to force back the sobs that threaten to escape from his throat.

He can’t stop thinking about you, terrified, in the hands of the Capitol and being hurt and tortured, because of him. And there was nothing that he could do to reach you or help you right now.

Haymitch places a steadying hand on Finnick’s shoulder, but he barely registers it. The world around him is closing in, his breaths shallow and uneven. The rhythmic beeping of the machines, the faint hum of the hovercraft—it all fades beneath the deafening roar in his ears.

"Finnick," Haymitch says, firmer this time, gripping his shoulder. "I need you to listen to me."

Finnick shakes his head, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. "I should've protected her. I should've-"

"You couldn't have stopped this." Haymitch’s voice is rough, laced with exhaustion and something dangerously close to regret. "The Capitol took her, Finnick. But that doesn’t mean she’s gone."

Finnick exhales shakily, rubbing a trembling hand over his face. "You don’t get it. You don’t know what they’ll do to her." his voice cracks.

"She's strong. And she’s going to need you to be strong for her."

Finnick lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t even know if she’s still-"

He cuts himself off, unable to finish the thought. The idea of you not making it, of you slipping through his fingers before he could save you, sends another wave of nausea through him.

Haymitch sighs, "We’re getting them back. All of them. But you have to hold it together."

Finnick swallows hard, staring at the floor as if it holds the answers. He wants to scream, wants to punch something, wants to claw his way into the Capitol himself and rip you out of their grasp. But all he can do is stand there, fists clenched at his sides, drowning in helplessness.

"She’s going to be scared," Finnick whispers. "She’s going to think I abandoned her."

Haymitch’s expression softens. "Then we make damn sure she knows you didn’t."

Finnick lifts his head, meeting Haymitch’s gaze, and for the first time since waking up, he forces himself to breathe. To push past the grief, the fear, the suffocating helplessness. Because Haymitch is right. You need him. And no matter what it takes, no matter what he has to do.

He’s going to bring you home.

He's going to bring you back to him.

A/N: THE VERY LONG AWAITED CHAPTER IS OUT!!! i hope u all enjoyed <333

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