#District 4

[faunshiii]

I can’t have killed them all for nothing.

[deadboydoodling]

looks like not everyone is impressed by the view...

[kald-dal-art]

Reread TBOSAS because the movie is coming out soon (Going to watch it on Tuesday actually :))) so drew some of the tributes of the 10th game. Mostly a combination on how I imagined them when reading and a bit of the pictures that has been released of them of how they look in the movie :)

[enobariasdistrict2]

its interesting to me how katniss clocked cato and annie specifically as having mental illness but since cato was the one actively trying to kill her/having emotional outbursts in the arena fandom writes him as the dangerous person he is, while with annie since katniss wasn't scared of or threatened by her fandom saw fit to infantilize her and treat her like she's some meek incompetent inarticulate child who can't do anything for herself or without finnick

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think that, as a literary device, Finnick’s story is one of the most effective ones I have ever read.

When you think of victims of sex-related crimes, you so rarely think of a man.

In our modern society, we more often imagine women to be victims of such crimes. Beautiful women who are battered and bruised, their eyes holding that faraway gleam of pain and trauma. Sex-related violence against women is such a common occurrence that it is difficult to find a woman who doesn’t have intimate knowledge about it. Perhaps not every woman has been raped but every woman knows at least one who has. As young girls, we’re told so many things to try and prevent rape. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Be careful of what you wear. Don’t drink alcohol. Fight them off. And yet, if you did everything right and still fail at protecting yourself, just give in. Better raped than dead. Come home to your family and friends hurt and bruised but alive.

And it is this message that Finnick, a man, lives by.

Better taken advantage of, bruised and hurt, than dead. Better you than your parents or your siblings or Mags or Annie. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And, the thing is, we didn’t have to hear this story from him. We could have heard it from Cashmere.

In his propo to the Capitol, Finnick reveals that attractive Victors are pimped out by President Snow to the residents of the Capitol. One such Victor is Cashmere.

Knowing this layer of her story makes Cashmere the picture perfect victim. A woman who is repeatedly described as beautiful. She is a typical description of what a rape victim is. Suzanne could have used her character instead of Finnick’s to portray an instance so familiar to so many women and yet, she didn’t.

She chose Finnick. And I think the reason why she did that is because hearing it from Cashmere would have made the story fall flat.

Would we have blinked an eye had it been Cashmere who revealed the horrors of being a Victor? Would we have felt anything other than a vague sense of sympathy? I don’t think so. Like so many women before her, Cashmere’s story is so familiar to us that it no longer leaves that bitter taste in our mouths. We, as a society, have been so deeply desensitized to this plight that we no longer feel the same indignation we used to feel. Instead we are resigned to our fate. Cashemere isn’t the first victim of rape and she won’t be the last.

Yet to hear it from Finnick had us shocked. Finnick? A man? Attractive, to be sure, but he is at the prime of his life and yet he is a victim? Finnick, who can wield a trident so effectively he became the youngest Victor in the 75 years the Hunger Games operated, was raped? Finnick, who has literally killed people with his bare hands, was prostituted? Finnick, who cracked jokes about killing people was whored out by President Snow?

It is absurd! It is a bizarre and strange! It has to be untrue!

And yet it’s not.

Finnick being representative of that particular storyline was effective at reminding us of what it means to be victimized like that. And using Finnick, a man, instead of Cashmere, a woman, reminded us of why we have to be rightfully angry and upset about such things instead of resigned to our fates.

Suzanne Collins is an absolute literary genius.

[brucelinas]

Annie Cresta

[kometqh]

𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (fem reader) 𝟓𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐭.𝟐 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝-𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭-𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ,𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫?

Tugging at my hair, the wind brushed past me in a hurry. It came from far away, seemingly always looking for something, never being able to find it. Paired with the wind, a steady but small wave washed up against the shoreline, the thinnest part of the wave just barely scraping my feet.

I looked up at the sky. It was partly clouded, but beautiful nethertheless. The sun was just barely breaking through the horizon, casting gentle light across the beach. It mixed with the blue sky and formed a rose-pink colour across the clouds, the shore and the sea. Was it always so beautiful here? 

I shook my head, casting my gaze to the side, my eyes landing on a lone boulder which sat in the water. The exterior was decorated by lavish long seaweed and a cluster of barnacles. It sat proudly in the water, the waves crashing against it every so often, sprays of water flying into the air. It was a pretty sight. Almost pretty enough to distract me from the anxiety tugging at my heart.

A sliver of water touched my feet, before being dragged back to the sea.

Today is my last year of reaping. Today is the day that decides whether I'll be free for the rest of my life, or whether I will die fighting for my life in a gruesome bloodbath.

Though in this context, freedom isn't exactly what one might think it is. Nobody is ever truly free in Panem.

Someone like me would not survive in any of the arenas we've seen so far. I can barely handle killing a fish, let alone an entire human being, a child. I can feel a shiver travel down my spine, and I shake my head, casting those thoughts aside. Nothing will happen, I think to myself, and continue to look at the splashing waves, hypnotised by the rhythmic back-and-forth movement, accompanied by occasional licks of water against the tips of my feet, which have found respite in the sand.

With a sigh, I lean back on my elbows. Squinting slightly, I observe the clouds. None have any particular shape to them, but it feels comforting to stare at them as they move. Would I get to see them in an arena? I don't think so.

Time passed by rather quickly. When you lay on a beach with no form of watch or clock, a minute can quickly become an hour. And before I knew it, I began to notice some small boats setting out into the sea, as the sun slowly climbed up higher into the sky. It must be what...7am? Maybe 8. That's usually when people wake up to go fishing, since the waters are calmer in the morning.

With a sigh, I begin to think of the day ahead. It is mandatory to attend the reaping. If one doesn't, they'll be dragged out of their homes, whipped in the town square, and then forced to watch. I sigh heavily, fingers digging into the sand beneath me, and with a light shake of my head, I reluctantly heave myself up and off the sand, heading towards the treeline.

Nobody really ventures into the wooden forest, in fear of the peacekeepers that guard the borders of District 4. Although I learned very quickly that they're further out than one might think, many citizens of District 4 have no interest in venturing out, believing that there isn't much out there to be seen in the first place.

But not me.

When I was much younger, I'd often run into the forest to go exploring. There aren't many dangerous animals in there, so nobody would worry unless I haven't returned by the evening.

On one of those adventures, I had discovered a bunch of rock pools. Now that may not sound fantastic, but it was. I saw big animals, at the time I wasn't sure what they were, but now I do - they were seals. All bearing different kinds of fluffy coats of fur, ranging from pure white, to a spotty grey, brown and black. 

After that day, I'd always return at least once a week to observe them from afar. I don't know much about them, and I'd prefer to minimise the risk of being mauled by an animal. But each year, I'd see small seal pups, sunbathing around the rock pools, chasing each other over the expanse of the beach, or cuddling up to their mothers.

Other times, when the seals weren't there, I'd venture further out, playing around the rock pools, observing the little creatures stuck in them. Sometimes there'd be small crabs hiding in crevices, other times there'd be small fish swimming endlessly in circles. 

I'd sit there each day, staring at and observing the different animals, until I'd look up and realise I've overstayed my welcome. On one particular day, I walked around the beach for so long, mesmerised by the waves, gazing at the stars in the sky, that I hadn't noticed it was dark. Upon realising it I had hurried back home, still in a daze, but it was already pitch black by the time I returned, and I had gotten the biggest scolding from my mother, asking where I've been. She was quick to ground me, and I wasn't allowed out of other people's sight for almost two weeks.

Annie Cresta, my best friend, had repetitively asked where I went that day, but I never uttered a word of it to her, only insisting that I had been diving too far from the shore. I've been friends with her for years now, practically since we were in diapers.

A long time ago, we'd go out swimming together in the kelp forests near our homes, they were far away from the main area of fishing, but close enough for adults to not worry. We'd often see sea otters swimming around the kelp, but they stayed far from us. Me and Annie would often follow the otters, as they knew where to get Abalone from. But after each return home, we'd be scolded by our mothers, who insisted we had to stop if we didn't want to get into trouble.

I guess finding abalone and bringing it home without the permission of the authorities counts as poaching.

We'd sometimes share some with other families of trusted friends, but mostly Finnick Odair's family, who were just as close to us.

Anyway, I'm not willing to disclose information about the beach, or the animals, to anybody. Not even my long-time crush, Finnick, the boy with sea-green eyes. I've had a crush on him for years now, but his eyes were always on Annie. I can see why, their personalities match so well, Finnick's confidence and caring nature complements Annie's shy and anxious one. I'm just the third wheel whenever all three of us are together, but I guess I don't mind.

I'll find the right one eventually, I hope.

Too deep in my thoughts, I had failed to realise that there was a low lying tree branch ahead of me. And looking up too late, I walked face first into it. The pain struck me all at once, and I swear I heard a tiny 'crunch'.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" I shouted, hissing in pain. "Stupid branch! Why is it even there?!" I shouted at no one in particular, holding onto my nose tightly. I slowly let go, feeling the burning pain flare up on my skin like a smouldering flame, and then I felt it. The steady flow of blood. It was everywhere. My face, lips, my hands, even my clothes. Who knew a human nose could bleed so much? I looked over myself, crying out at the state of my shirt.

I have to get home, I thought. With quick, long strides, I soon found myself walking through the front door of my house, being greeted by my mother standing in the kitchen, preparing our clothes for the reaping. "I'm home." I said loudly, my tone laced with annoyance, I stepped in and shut the door behind me, walking into the kitchen, still holding tightly onto my nose.

My mother turned her head to greet me with a smile, but that smile quickly disappeared at the sight of me.

Her face paled and her eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape as a worried yelp left her lips. "What happened to you dear?!" She screamed, dropping everything mid sentence as she made her way over to me.

I rolled my eyes, sighing loudly. "I walked into a tree branch." I muttered under my breath, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

My mother laughed at me, all of the initial worry dissipating from her body. "Really?" She asked in disbelief, howling in laughter, holding her stomach. After two minutes of her laughing, she finally calmed down enough to take a look at my injury, deciding that some cold, wet rag will be enough to soothe both the swelling and the pain. "Annie will be laughing just as much as you, I bet," I said as I walked over to the tap, turning it on, "'Y/n you're so clumsy!'" I mocked her voice, groaning in anticipation of that knock on the front door, awaiting my closest friend to come and retrieve me. I began to wipe the blood off my face and hands with some water, using a towel to dry off after.

Early this year me and Annie had decided to go to our last reaping together. We had both turned 18, and so it would be the last year that our names would be put into that glass bowl. We were ecstatic over it, but at the same time terrified. This was the last year, but what if one of our names gets pulled out? We're both anticipating it, and praying at the same time that it won't happen. It would be devastating, and I don't believe that either of us are prepared to face 23 other tributes in the arena, let alone kill any of them.

But putting those thoughts aside, I decided to focus on the present. I had managed to drown out my mother's voice, but when I tuned in, I realised she was talking about the dress I'll be wearing. It was a sundress, in the faintest colour of royal blue possible, with a frilled, off-white hem. "I wore it years ago, at my very last reaping too," My mother spoke, her hands lovingly gliding over the faded fabric, "I was told that all the boys looked at me that day." She laughed at the memory, now gently holding the dress by the straps, pressing it against my body. "Hold it, dear."

My hands gently held the dress, and I looked down at myself, my eyes widening in shock as I looked over the intricate designs scattered across the expanse of the dress - sunflowers graced the fabric, painted in the faded blue, overlapping each other.

"Go, try it on dear." My mother said, ushering me to my room, "I'll do your hair after, okay?" She said, and shut the door on me before any words could form at the tip of my tongue.

I shook my head with a small smile, setting the fabric down onto my bed. I turned away, beginning to strip out of my blood-tattered t-shirt, discarding it to a dark corner of my room, my shorts and socks following in tow. I walked a few steps over to a large cracked mirror. It leaned proudly against the wall, reflecting the bright sunrays that made their way into my room.

How many hours has it been?

I looked myself over, turning from one side to another, observing. If my name was to be called out...Would I even have a chance in the arena? Most of the kids that are chosen are frail and skinny, others are fit and healthy, and others are strong and tall. Which category did I belong to? With a loud sigh, I moved away from the mirror and back to my bed, where the beautiful dress laid. I looked over it, staring intensely. The sound of birds chirping in the distance, the gentle breeze coming in through my window, and the smell of the sea all invaded my senses at once. I love this place - no matter how difficult life may be. I'll always have some form of a safe place in District 4. If only the circumstances were different, maybe I'd be able to-

"What are you doing?" A voice asked, ripping me out of my thoughts. I slowly looked over to the person, my eyes going first as my head followed suit. It wasn't Annie, nor was it my mother or sister.

"Finnick?! Look away!" I shouted, grabbing the dress, covering myself up. Maybe I did have a crush on him, but that didn't mean I would happily expose myself. "It's not like you've got something I haven't seen already!" Finnick laughed, a wide amused grin gracing his lips, exposing his pearly white teeth. Though in my embarrassment, I failed to hear the dark undertone in his voice. "I don't care! You don't just invade in on my privacy like this!" I said, chucking one of my pillows at him. "Alright, alright! I'll cover my eyes! Is that good enough?" He asked, a tint of amusement still lacing his voice, but the genuineness was unmistakeable.

"Fine. What did you want anyway?" I asked, slipping the dress on as my eyes focused on him like a hawk, making sure his eyes were covered.

"Just came to say good luck, since y'know, it's your last year of reaping." He said, smiling at me as his hands covered his eyes. I smiled with a huff, and smoothened the dress out over myself. The end of it just about reached my knees, but the material was stretchy enough if I needed it to be. I walked over to my mirror, stunned at how it complimented my skin tone, and looked over myself, turning from side to side, completely forgetting that Finnick was even there for a moment. 

"Can I look now?" He asked, his voice so smooth and gentle it made my heart flutter. "Yes, go for it." I said, walking over to him. 

"How do I look?" I asked, giving him a small twirl. The end of the dress seemed to flow in the air like a jellyfish, the beautiful blue turning almost into a gentle wave, rising slightly before it dropped as I came to a stop.

I looked up to Finnick, searching for a reply, but there wasn't any. He simply stood there, silently watching, but his eyes were slightly widened. I cleared my throat, snapping my fingers near his face. "You look great, I'm sure any guy you want will chase after you after seeing this." He said, almost breathless but still confident, a smirk gracing his lips as he looked me up and down through hooded eyes.

I laughed, shaking my head in denial. "No, I don't think so," I said, leaning against the window frame, staring into those pretty eyes of his. I looked him over, noticing that he was wearing a dark blue tank top, along with some form of tight-fit joggers. His hair glistened in the sun, his skin tan from the rays. His hand slowly reached out to me, and his rough fingers gently latched onto the straps of my sundress, toying with the material. 

His touch against my skin seemed to set it on fire. My heart began thudding aggressively against my chest, and I had to focus on breathing normally, fighting the rising heat in my cheeks.

Does he always have to be so touchy? If he comes any closer he'll be able to hear how fast my heart is beating. 

 "Anyway, have you seen Annie?" I asked, quickly diverting his attention, and his gaze. At that he shook his head, looking up from my shoulders to my eyes. "I was gonna see her after you." He said, biting his bottom lip in thought. 

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it, you know how she gets." I finished quietly as a pang of hurt tugged at my heart. Was I jealous?

"Yeah, but it can't be that bad. What are the odds?" He asked, his fingers lightly tugging at the material of my dress, observing how the fabric bounced back to my skin. His eyes concentrated on the material again, his eyebrows furrowing in worry as he remained silent, still chewing on that lip. I observed him, looking over his hair, it looked so fluffy. His forehead glistened, some sweat having built up, his green eyes stuck in a trance. His fingers felt soft against my skin, and his breath lightly fanned over my neck.

I took a deep breath, focusing on how my chest rose up as air filled it, giving myself a spare moment to realise my thoughts. My hands came to hold his own, gently rubbing the sun-kissed skin.

"It'll be okay, if anything happens...I'll be there." I said, giving his hands a soft squeeze, reassuring him softly, "You better get going. She'll think you won't show up." I stroked his cheek affectionately, smiling down at him. I could tell that Annie was at the forefront of his mind, after all, he did have feelings for her, even if he hadn't admitted it. To anyone. But, as a person who believes herself to be in love, I can recognise another person that's in love. Or so I think. "Go Finnick." I said, pushing him away with the tip of my finger against his forehead.

He sent me a quick but charming smile, nodding softly, saying his goodbye's before jogging off in the opposite direction of my house. I began to feel a sadness tug at my chest, and even though I knew I shouldn't feel like this, I couldn't help it. 

That sadness stayed with me for a while, it stayed as my mother tied small strands of hair together so that it resembled a net, it remained as she talked about the dress my sister would wear, it remained whilst my sister gaped at how pretty I looked, picking at her nails in nervousness, it remained until the moment that Annie's gentle fist knocked at my front door.

My mother quickly opened it, greeting her sweetly. A small 'Where's Y/n?' could be heard, and I peeked my head out, ready to go and face our last reaping.

"Y/n? You look...Amazing!" Annie exclaimed, a bright smile on her face as she trotted up to me, extending her arms for a hug. "So do you Annie, so do you." I said happily, careful not to ruin her hair. It was tied up into a thick ponytail, with a couple of braids running through it, and two strands of hair framing her face prettily. My own hair was let down, however the top pieces were tied together into an intricate net pattern. My mother had outdone herself, genuinely.

Annie's hugs were a different kind of love - warm and gentle, but they conveyed everything that her words failed to. I could tell by the way her hands trembled around me that she was anxious. Annie wasn't a fighter or a hunter, and anyone that had been around her could tell.

Someone began running to the front door, stepping loudly onto the floor. I looked behind me and saw Hali making her way towards me, her arms outstretched. "Are you going now?" She asked, her voice quiet. I wrapped my arms around her in a hug, placing a small peck on the top of her head. "Yes, we want to be there early to avoid the crowds." I said, patting her head with one hand. Hali looked up at me with her big doe eyes, her bottom lip quivering.

"I'll see you there, right?" She asked, and I could hear the fear in her voice. I nodded softly, smiling at her. "Yes, you'll see me and Annie standing with the other oldest girls, alright? I'll wave at you too." I reassured her, not letting go until she was ready. She nodded her head quickly, shaking like a leaf.

"It'll be okay. They won't choose me." As I said it, Hali unlatched her arms, stepping a bit away. "Alright, I really hope not. But what if they do?" She asked, twiddling with her hair. 

"If they choose me, then I'll need you to support me from home okay?" I asked, kneeling down in front of her. "I'll need you to take care of mum, and take care of yourself until I return. Is that okay?" I asked, looking at her with a small smile. She nodded her head, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug. She didn't want to let go, and Annie had to step in and ask 'Are you ready to go' before Hali unwillingly detached herself from me. With a quiet 'yes', I gave Hali one last hug and a reassuring squeeze of her hand, making my way backwards to the door.

"You'll see me for dinner, okay?" I asked, and she nodded her head, wiping away a few tears. "I love you." She said through her tears.

"I love you too, now go get ready." I said, giving her one last hug before walking out of the house, bidding my goodbyes to both my mum and Hali. "Take care of yourself dear. We'll see you there." My mother said, waving to me as she placed one hand on Hali's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You'll see me there, mum. I love you." I said, my mother whispered an 'I love you' back, shutting the door gently. With a heavy sigh, I turned to Annie, linking my arm with hers.

 Annie looked at me worriedly, chewing on her bottom lip - a nervous habit she had picked up over the years. "Do you think we'll be okay?" She asked quietly, looking at me, concerned. I nodded my head, forcing a smile onto my lips, even though I could feel the sick tumbling around in my stomach. 

Suddenly, the air began to feel a bit too warm, and I could feel sweat beginning to cling uncomfortably to my skin. "We'll be okay Annie," I reassured her, giving her a side hug, "You've got me." I said quietly, nudging her to keep moving forward.

The town square wasn't so far away that we had to hurry, yet we made it there in record time. The queues weren't massive, and so we got through to the courtyard rather quickly, holding onto our throbbing fingers. It wasn't long until everyone else had slowly started filing into the courtyard, every person of every age group was there. I looked around, noticing how quickly the yard had filled with people. My eyes then looked at the entrance, trying to see my sister and mother. Soon enough they entered the courtyard, hand by hand heading to the side-lines, where other adults and young children would file and stand. 

Hali's big, wide eyes scanned the area, and she looked like a lost rabbit, all alert and ready to run. She was looking for me, and soon our eyes connected and I sent her a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up.

I then looked forward, staring ahead at the temporary golden podium. There were four chairs situated just behind the single podium and two glass balls on each side of it. One chair is for our Mayor, one for the announcer, and two for the two Victors from District 4; Finnick, and an elderly woman named Mags. Everyone is seated in the appropriate seats. 

Once the crowd begins to come to a stall, the Mayor takes it as his sign to walk up to the microphone, looking up at the big clock above him, clearing his throat.

It struck 12. 

He begins by greeting the citizens, and then proceeds to tell the history of Panem, as he does every year. He talks about the natural disasters, the uprisings, the destruction of District 13 - all of this is old news. After overcoming the Dark Days, laws were created, and alongside them so were the Hunger Games. I manage to tune out his voice, and instead focus on those behind him.

The announcer, who every year comes from the Capitol, gets the opportunity to personally pick out which children will be sent to their deaths in a bloodbath. 

Her hair was styled into some sort of glamorous, 3 story high bun, with a few loose strands framing her oddly sharp face. It was dyed an unnatural golden colour, and had sparkling silver beads embedded into it, two particularly large ones placed just at the tip of her hair strands, sitting comfortably on the frilly material of her sparkling, turquoise two piece - a skirt and a corset, her feather-like, white skin covered by the material of a matching jacket. She really outdid herself.

Seated on her left were Finnick and Mags, both looking over the crowds, both wearing unreadable expressions as the Mayor continues to talk. 

For a second, I believe that Finnick has noticed me, it looked as though he was looking directly into my eyes. His sea-green eyes peeking into my very soul. My heart fluttered, and the butterflies started circling around in my stomach. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. I took a deep breath, but then I'm harshly hit with reality, and remember that Annie was right next to me, probably looking at him too.

He looks away as the Mayor begins to name the winners of District 4, and stands up along with Mags to wave at the crowds, being greeted with the appropriate level of applause. Curt and short, but it didn't matter. Next, the Mayor announces the Capitol representative, Sylvia Borgnino, and she stands up, waving excitedly at us, making tiny steps towards the microphone, her cheery voice echoing around us in seconds. 

"Happy Hunger Games everyone! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" She shouts excitedly, almost hopping on her toes. 

I guess there is at least one person here that's happy about the games. 

She thanks the Mayor for his kindness and welcoming, and then quickly turns back to us, the audience, her voice changing to a more serious tone.

"And now," She pauses, leaning over the podium and looking over at everyone, "We shall draw the names of the Tributes." She states, slowly walking over to the glass bowl full of girls' names, the sound of her heels clacking, beating at my eardrums.

"Ladies first."

I look over to Finnick, and then Annie, and then Hali. Hali is already looking at me, and so is my mum. I reach my hand out to hold Annie's, squeezing tightly as I feel how clammy her hand is, my chest tightening as I breathed. I swallow an imaginary lump, feeling how my throat constricts uncomfortably.

The sun was beating down on us, its' rays glazing over my skin, bubbling up sticky sweat. Were did the clouds go?

Wearily, I glance up at the large clock towering over us, its' heavy ticking weighing down on my shoulders.

Sylvia Borgnino's gloved hand shoots up into the air dramatically, and the crowd collectively goes silent. No one dares to even breathe as she animatedly rummages through the name cards for a solid 10 seconds.

It better not be me. I swear if it's me I will riot, I think to myself. The nerves tickle at the inner lining of my stomach, and for a moment I believe that I might throw up.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of my forehead

Tick, tock.

Was the sun always so hot?

Tick, tock.

I swallow heavily.

Her hand grasps onto something, and she dramatically withdraws it, menacingly crossing over to the podium.

"And the female tribute from District 4 is.."

Please not me. Not me. My breathing quickens as she draws on her silence, smiling devilishly down at the crowd. My hair was sticking to my neck, creating an unpleasant sensation. 

I swallow dryly, my mouth feeling as though I had been deprived of water.

As the words leave her mouth, I can feel my heart drop.

"Annie Cresta."

Time seems to stop. I can no longer feel Annie's hand in my grasp, her fingers having slowly slipped out. I turn my head, feeling my chest heaving up and down, tears pricking at my eyes. My hands fly up to my mouth in shock, intense tremors travelling from my shoulders up to my fingertips.

Annie falls to her knees with a thud, hiding her face in her hands as she cries out hysterically, her mane-like hair looking like a flame. I follow suit, embracing her in my arms, whispering quiet 'It's okay's', holding her head on my shoulder. The other girls slowly step away, creating a circle around us.

What do I do? Do I let her go? That girl won't last a minute in there!

Two peacekeepers rip through the crowds aggressively, roughly pushing anyone out of their way, before coming to a stop in front of us, heaving Annie up by her arms, ushering her towards the stage. Her face is covered in sweat and tears, her fiery hair sticking uncomfortably to her face, her mouth wide open as she wails.

"Please! No! I can't go in there!" She screams, digging her heels into the ground, protesting, thrashing her arms around. She looks as though she suddenly became haunted, a sort of violent air surrounding her. 

With small footsteps, I attempt to follow after her, but more peacekeepers arrive to stop me, creating a blockade of bodies. I look towards my mother and sister, eyes wide, and see their shocked faces. My mother is shaking her head in a 'no', but it's too late. Hali looks at me wide-eyed, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she senses what I'm about to do. 

I look to Finnick, noticing that he had stood up from his chair, his fists clamped shut, once tan skin now having turned a strained white colour. His eyes are stuck to Annie, and never dare to leave her once.

Before Sylvia Borgnino can utter a single word, I raise my hand, pushing through the peacekeepers. All heads turn to me. The guards stop pushing Annie, and she looks to me, her thrashing easing a bit.

The words leave my lips before I can even process them myself. 

With a dry mouth, clammy hands and a wildly beating heart, I shout, "I volunteer!"

[toothfa-1-ry]

GOODNIGHT SUNSHINE -finnick odair

It's the coldest it has ever been in the 13th district but Finnick's got you right?

GENRE: fluff

PAIRING: Finnick Odair x gn reader

WARNING: mentions of wound and scars

A/N: this fic is especially dedicated for those who were victims of my previous Finnick fic

TAGLIST: @honethatty12

"Finnick?" You ask at the dead of night, the both of you lying down next to eachother all cramped up in the tiny bed which was given to the both of you

"yes sweetheart?" Finnick's breath tickles your ears as he whispers, slightly bending his neck to where you were lying down in his chest

You could hear his heartbeat clearly a d he could feel you breathing, a sign that the both of you were alive.

Your fingers could feel the bandage wrapped around his arms and Finnick could see the scars on your face, a sign that the both of you were a little scarred, but still a sign that the both of you were alive.

The 13th district is cold. A different kind of cold the both of you hd ever experienced. Finnick had mainly experienced the cold during the night on the beach, the cold air blowing towards him from the sea.

Finnick also had experienced many different kind of warmths, the bad and the good

The kind of warmth you can only get back at the 4th district, the warm sand beneath is feet and the sunlight hitting the water.

The warmth from the capitol in all its luxury and velvety blankets and linen bedsheets which left him cold and empty instead

And the kind of warmth with you. A different kind of warmth, like now,

How the both of you were in a cold small quiet room with a thin blanket too small to cover 2 people and yet Finnick felt the most comfortable and warm he ever was,all because he had you in his arms

Even though there was a entire uprising going on, even though there was wounds and scars all over his back, even the nightmares he endures everynight seemed to cease to exist when he was with you

"Finnick" you repeat again

"yes sweetheart?" He responds nonchalantly, his arms pulling you in closer towards him

"aren't you feeling cold?" You ask, the thin blanket was hardly even able to cover you, let alone Finnick "we can't share it, it's far too small. We can take turns using it"

"it's alright sweetheart" Finnick mumbles and his face nuzzles into you neck "m'not cold"

You scoff "it's freezing, here" you try spreading the blanket across Finnick's body but Finnick just doesn't accept it

"you use it love, don't worry about me, I've got my sun right next to me. I'm warm enough" he lazily smiles "c'mon these scars aren't going to heal themselves, let's give into the night"

"scars don't heal Finnick, wounds do, not scars" you roll your eyes as you reply but your arms stretch over Finnick's neck

"I suppose so, but you can always kiss them better hm?" He hums

"I suppose I can always kiss them better" you smile as you press a kiss into his face

"night Finnick"

"goodnight sunshine"

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

my problem with the career!annie debate

If you're in the odesta fandom at all you've probably seen people discussing whether or not Annie Cresta was a Career and volunteered for the Hunger Games. I've been thinking about this a lot and there was always something about this discussion that bugged me.

This debate has gone from questioning if Annie was a Career to questioning if Annie was strong, and those are not the same thing.

First of all, we know that Annie was strong. Not only is she a victor, but she was able to vote no for a final hunger games (after she'd just been held prisoner by the Capitol and lost her husband) then go home and raise her son. I think this notion that Annie wasn't strong comes from the way Katniss describes her win - as more luck than anything else. But in order for Annie to survive the flood in her arena (which is already hard to do) she first had to survive up until that point, and we have no idea how long that took.

A lot of career!annie headcanons that I've seen come from wanting to give Annie more agency, power, and strength, which is great! But a lot of these theories also imply that Annie is only strong if she's a Career, and that the other iteration of her character--the one who was reaped--is weak.

Part of this probably comes from the morality attached to being a Career. People assume that if Annie volunteered, she is more aggressive, and that the version of her that was reaped is somehow kinder. From here, it is easy to see how one version is considered strong while the other is considered weak.

Strength comes in so many different forms, and we see this in Annie. It's one of the only canonical things we actually know about her. What we see in the books alone is enough to say that she is strong, whether she was a Career or not.

There's a lot of nuance to career!annie, and it's something I love to explore, but being a Career is not the only way to be strong! She doesn't need to be an aggressive fighter to be a strong person, and she doesn't need to have been a Career to be an aggressive fighter. These details about her can exist independently from each other, and canon is vague enough on the details that basically anything is possible.

I love the "was Annie a career" debate, but the "was Annie strong" debate shouldn't even be a question.

[mellarkdandelion]

The Capitol salutes its citizens in the mining district

Once again I’m OBSESSED with these thg posters!!

[bramblrose]

“Finnick recites a poem he wrote to his one true love in the Capitol, and about a hundred people faint because they’re sure he means them.”

[cece693]

It Should've Been Me (Peeta Mellark x Male! Reader)

I don't know why there isn't much male reader fanfics for the Hunger Games, but I aim to change that. Especially when there are interesting characters such as Finnick and Johanna, but I'm playing it safe and beginning with Peeta.

Summary: M/N Evergreen didn't feel like a victor, especially when it cost the life of his sister, Katniss. Forced to wear a smile and continue living life as 'normal', the only person who seems to recognize his brokeness is the boy with the bread, Peeta Mellark.

M/N Evergreen didn’t feel like a victor, not when winning cost the life of his sister, Katniss. It was supposed to be her. She was the one with the spark, the one who inspired others to believe in something more. But now she was gone, and all that was left was him—a hollow reminder of what should have been. He knew he should be grateful; the Capitol's train pulling into District 12 meant he got to come home. But what kind of home was it when the only person who ever made it feel that way was dead?

Effie Trinket’s voice was a distant hum, urging him to “put on a happy face, darling.” Smile for the cameras, for the sponsors, for the charade of a victory tour that awaited him. He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. Even if he forced the corners of his lips upward, the emptiness in his eyes would betray him. The train doors slid open, and all he could do was stare blankly as the frigid air of District 12 rushed in, filling his lungs with the sharp scent of coal dust. The lenses of dozens of cameras zoomed in, capturing the haunted look that had become a permanent fixture on his face.

He heard Effie clear her throat nervously as she stepped out ahead of him, trying to drum up some semblance of a greeting from the sullen crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, our victor, M/N Everdeen!” Her voice rang out with all the bubbly enthusiasm she could muster, but the words fell flat.

As the Capitol’s cameras continued to click and whir, M/N forced himself to walk through the motions of the victor’s return. He let Effie guide him onto the stage, his limbs moving mechanically, as though they belonged to someone else. He could hear the rehearsed speech forming on her lips, filled with empty praise and hollow encouragement. He heard his own voice, flat and monotone, echo her words when prompted, thanking the Capitol for its generosity and the people of District 12 for their support.

But the truth was, he didn’t feel like a victor, and he never would. He was just another casualty of the Hunger Games—only, he happened to still be breathing.

The days passed in a blur for M/N Everdeen, though he barely noticed the shift from one to the next. Returning to District 12 should have felt like a relief—home, where things were familiar. But the place seemed alien to him now, like he was wandering through a ghost town where all the buildings and people were merely pale shadows of what they once were. Even the Seam, which always bustled with life despite its poverty, felt quieter, as if the town itself was grieving. Maybe it was.

At home, his mother had returned to the land of the living, as much as she could. She moved around the house with a new purpose, cooking and cleaning with a mechanical precision that betrayed the emptiness in her eyes. M/N knew it wasn’t for him; it was for Prim. Their mother clung to her youngest, constantly checking on her and making sure she ate, slept, and stayed warm. M/N could see her fighting against the hollowness, desperately trying to appear whole for Prim’s sake. For him, too, though he wasn’t sure why she bothered.

M/N hadn’t eaten since he stepped off the train. Every meal placed in front of him felt like an insult to Katniss’s memory—he shouldn’t get to eat, shouldn’t get to live while she was gone. His mother and Prim had seemed to silently agree on a pact not to let him waste away, though. If he refused breakfast, his mother would leave it on the table for him to find later. If he tried to hide in his room during dinner, Prim would seek him out, dragging him to the kitchen. They were relentless in their quiet determination to keep him alive.

Today, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get out, to escape the house where Katniss’s absence hung like a shroud over everything. He slipped out the back door and walked toward the edge of the district, to the fence that separated District 12 from the woods. It was supposed to be electrified, but the power rarely ran this far out, and he easily found a gap to slip through. The forest beckoned to him, promising solitude and silence—two things he desperately craved. For a few moments, he felt the faintest hint of peace as he wandered deeper into the trees, letting the thick canopy above dim the harsh sunlight.

But he wasn’t alone for long.

“M/N.” a voice called softly from behind him.

He froze, recognizing the voice before he even turned around. Peeta Mellark was standing there, a few paces back, watching him with that same quiet intensity he’d had since the day M/N returned. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t wearing that charming expression he often showed in public. Instead, his face was open, unguarded, as though he’d stripped away all pretense.

“What are you doing here?” M/N asked, his voice raw from disuse.

Peeta stepped closer, careful not to startle him, as if M/N were a wounded animal. “I saw you come out here,” he replied. “I was worried.”

M/N let out a bitter laugh. “You shouldn’t be,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the forest. “If I don’t come back, I’m sure everyone would understand.”

“Don’t say that,” Peeta said sharply, the sudden firmness in his voice cutting through the quiet. “You don’t get to give up. Not after everything…”

“Everything?” M/N scoffed, spinning to face him. “What did I survive for, Peeta? There’s no victory here. I’m alive, but she’s gone. And now I have to pretend like any of this is okay?”

“You survived because Katniss wanted you to,” Peeta said, stepping closer again. “She fought for you—”

“I don’t need a lecture about my own sister,” M/N interrupted, his voice rising. “You don’t know what it was like! You weren’t there! I should have protected her, but I couldn’t even do that. All I could do was… was watch as she—” His voice broke, the words dissolving into a choked sob.

He turned away from Peeta, trembling as his chest tightened painfully. He had spent every waking moment since returning home forcing himself not to break, swallowing back his grief until it clawed at his throat, but now it surged forward like a flood. He didn’t know how to stop it.

“It's not your fault,” Peeta’s voice was gentle, and when M/N felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched but didn’t pull away. “You did everything you could.”

M/N shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “It wasn’t enough,” he whispered. “It’ll never be enough. She’s gone because of me.”

Peeta’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him in close. M/N’s legs buckled, and he collapsed into Peeta’s embrace, his sobs breaking free in jagged gasps. Peeta held him tightly, steadying him as he sank to the forest floor. He murmured soothing words, though M/N couldn’t make out the exact phrases—only that there was a calm, reassuring rhythm in the sound of Peeta’s voice.

For a long while, M/N cried in Peeta’s arms, clutching at his shirt as if afraid to let go. It wasn’t fair, not to Peeta, not to anyone, to have to bear the weight of his grief like this. But Peeta stayed, anchoring him through the storm of emotion until, at last, M/N’s sobs quieted, leaving him drained and hollow.

When he finally pulled back, Peeta’s shirt was soaked with tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. He looked down at M/N with an expression so full of understanding it hurt. “You’re not alone, you know,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

M/N shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep going.”

Peeta’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “One step at a time. That’s all you need to do for now.” The words weren’t a solution, but they were something—a fragile thread of hope in a world that felt impossibly dark. And for the first time since returning to District 12, M/N didn’t feel completely lost. He still didn’t know how to live without Katniss, but with Peeta’s arm around his shoulders, guiding him back toward the fence, he thought maybe, just maybe, he could figure it out. One step at a time.

[kald-dal-art]

THG Sketchbook dump old drawings and requests so thanks to people who gave my drawing suggestions 🫶

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎThe Sea Is Boundless and So Are We⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst, panic attack pairing: finnick odair x fem reader summary: you have a breakdown and Finnick comforts you author’s note: first Finnick fic! I hope I did it right <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Salt spray stung your eyes as you kicked off your sandals, shifting your feet into the grainy sand, warm from a day's worth of the sun's attention. Waves were lapping at the shore, foam left behind like a crown each time the water retreated and rebounded. Sunset shot colors across the sea's reflection like a splayed hand, holding your gaze for a moment before you began the trek forward.

It was a routine you had never set, but you found yourself doing it every night anyways. After the stresses and tensions of the day clawed at your mind, the ocean was the only thing that could ease it. You supposed it was your homeland bound to you, beckoning with open arms. This was where you felt most at ease- you would have buried yourself in the sand and let the water eat at your body if you could.

Tonight, it was different. Tonight, the reason you'd discarded your shoes and went to walk along the jagged shoreline was paramount, worse than any of your miniscule trials from times before. You'd abandoned the envelope on the kitchen counter, flinging the door open before another thought could cross your mind.

Footprints sunk into the sand as you trudged to the water, hoping it would give you some kind of relief, like a life force you merely needed to come back to every once in awhile. Words echoed back and forth across your mind, like objects sliding across the surface of a rocking boat.

From the moment your name had been called at the Reaping, your senses had been heightened, unfortunately including the choking vines of anxiety. It had only worsened in training, climaxed when you were in the arena. Here in the feigned safety of the aftermath, you were dealing with the consequences. You tried to reassure yourself that this kind of news would upset anybody, but it only made you feel worse. This was how the world was. Your tired, stretched-thin mind couldn't seem to get that through.

A shout of your name disturbed your peace, and you tore your eyes from the rolling waves, turning around. The dress you wore tangled around your calves with the gentle breeze, hair following the same path. In the distance you could see a familiar silhouette, lifting a single hand and waving.

You recognized him. Of course you did. Even if his figure was blackened by the shade and buried underwater you would know.

Jogging forward, Finnick slowly but surely made his way over, the sand hindering what would have been swift movements otherwise. He must have come to the door of your home and seen it ajar, guessing the only other place you would be. As he approached, you could see the worry causing the sea blue in his eyes to darken with a storm, his golden hair messy as if he'd run his hands through it. You made no move to reach for him. What was the point if you would be forced to let go sooner than you wanted to?

He grasped at your arms once they were in reach, golden fingers probing at your smooth skin. "Baby...hey...I know it seems bad-"

"Bad?" Your voice was dry and he winced at it just a little. Looking away with some difficulty, you swallowed your tears. "They're sending you back. This is worse than bad."

"I know, I know." Finnick attempted to pull you into him, console you the way he'd done a million times before, but you resisted, lifting your gaze back up to him.

"How many times before they're satisfied?" you whispered, voice edging on a sob. "You're tied to them...they...they'll only keep pulling you back again and again and again."

"It's the Capitol's way," he said firmly, but not with anger. When Finnick got like this, he was steady as the cliffs above, your rock through and through. "Honey...I can't say no."

"Why?" You said it so desperately that he bowed his head briefly. Now you were moving in, tugging at his shirt. "Why do you let them ship you off? Why do you let them make you do such horrible things?"

Finnick's hand found your back, the warmth of his palm pressing into your spine. It was a tactic he'd used all through your training, resuming when you returned from your victory with a mentality worse than death. You were so upset now that you almost didn't want it to work, but of course it did.

He gently brought you into his chest, your cheek against his heart. Finnick held your head there with his other hand, taking in purposefully deep breaths so you'd follow his lead. A salty tear slipped from your eye and he let it soak into his shirt. The action opened the floodgates, and now you were really crying, rivers on your cheeks streaming like rain on a windowpane.

When you choked out an apology, he shook his head, adjusting you in his arms so his body blocked the wind, engulfing you deep into him. "It was your tears or the sea, baby. I'd take the first any day."

You felt your knees buckle as emotion overwhelmed you, feeling like you were drowning. But Finnick caught wind of it, ever your rescuer. He knelt in the sand, never once letting go as he let you cry helplessly into his shoulder.

How many times had you been in this exact position with him? It was a number you hadn't bothered to keep track of, knowing it would happen again and again. Every time you shattered, he gathered up the pieces, setting them back in place and kissing the crooked lines of your scars.

Rubbing your back, he murmured sweet assurances into your hair, holding you tight. He didn't want to let go either, you knew. In all your sorrow you'd forgotten. He was leaving you, but he was leaving you. It hurt him just as much, he cried just as many tears over it, though you knew most didn't make it to your skin, just the pillow in the room he kept at the Capitol. A room he spent as much time in as possible, for it was the only place he wasn't forced to perform in every way.

To everyone there, he was a service. A machine that had but one function. To flirt and be used, to wear the image they thrust on him. It was nothing like the man you knew, the one who kissed you so sweet it made you melt, who made promises bare under bedsheets. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

Every time he was summoned, you hoped it would be the last time. But then in a few months, another request was made, and he penned another letter to you, instructions written on the envelope not to open it until he was gone. The words inside would comfort you when he was far from your presence. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell you in person first this time- you'd flipped through your mail, seen his handwriting and just known.

Finnick loosened his grip on you just a little, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

You shook your head, half hoping if you convinced him it wouldn't be okay that he'd stay. But life persisted, you were forced to keep living, and you were deemed fine because you had to be. And after every bout without him, you were left with nothing but the knowledge that you could survive outside his orbit, something you wished wasn't true. Paired with that, dread that another summons would arrive, closer to his return home than the previous one.

Pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes found yours, searching and soothing. "You'll remember your breathing, okay? Yeah? And I'll be right back here with you before you know it. It'll be like I was never gone." It wouldn't. You both knew that. You both knew an ache would instill the second you parted ways, two souls never meant to be apart.

"Please don't," you whispered, a final hopeless plea. Clinging to his shirt, you squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't go. Just tell them no. Tell them you can't this time."

"Baby, they're gonna hurt you if I don't," he murmured, stroking your hair again. "I'll die before I let them hurt you."

You let out a gasping sob, and he nodded, folding himself around you again. "Shh, I've got you. I've got you." Securing a hand over the top of your head, he whispered, "You're safe. I'm here."

Hand reaching up, you found the shell he wore on a cord around his neck, a smooth, creamy thing you'd found on a lazy day with him walking on the beach. Finnick called it his good luck charm and had shown up the next day with it on a necklace. You'd never seen him without it since.

It was your object of comfort now, as you leaned against his chest and grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the smooth underside. Steadily, you could feel yourself begin to calm down, the storm in your heart quelling to a careful breeze. Suddenly you were back to earth sheathed in Finnick's arms, the only safe place in the world. Your ears stopped ringing, everything caught up and you took in a breath that didn't shake.

"There you go," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. None of it was. You thought helplessly about how unfair everything had turned out. The two of you had been through the unimaginable and come out the other side. But the story didn't end there. And now the man you loved was a tool in the hands of the same people who continued to torture you long after the last person in the arena was slain.

Finnick rubbed your back gently, his touch an antidote. He kissed your forehead, lips lingering, nose buried in your hairline. "Pretty girl. My pretty girl." His cheek rested on the top of your head. "Sometimes I wonder why you chose me?"

Despite yourself, you breathed a laugh, and he smiled. As if Finnick didn't know how good looking he was. The world reminded him often, but you never saw him light up so much as when you did.

Tenderly holding you, tethering you to him as the rock in your storm, Finnick lightly trailed his lips over your face, as if he were kissing the bright side of the moon. He ended on your mouth, staying there as long as he could. You could have mistaken his eyes for stars, his touch for a sunbeam.

He pulled you in from the treacherous waters in your heart, tucking you into his side as he swam through them himself.

A devotion sealed in kisses, a cradle in his arms.

[diiwata]

polynesian district 4 population... walk with me...

[kometqh]

𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (fem reader)

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨; @hashcakes , 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 <𝟑 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞) 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲.

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

Pink waves grasped at the sand, their back and forth swishing easing your nerves.

You were at the beach, with your love, your husband, Finnick Odair.

It had been a couple of months at this point, after the Capitol was overthrown and President Snow was no longer. Though the Capitol was gone and all citizens of Panem had seemingly integrated into one, equal society, the scars and marks that you had been left with did not go away as easily.

When you had arrived at District 13, you could barely utter a word, barely look up from your wounded palms. It had taken Finnick just over a month to get you to look at him, to let him hold you, and even more to get you to speak. But when you did, he cried of joy. He had asked you carefully if he could embrace you, and kiss you.

The Capitol did not only take away your voice, but they took much more than that. Your love for the seas.

You remember it vividly; eyes covered by a mask until you only saw darkness, the electrified currents rushing through your muscles, tightening the tissue like a rope. All the while all that your ears could register were your pleading, muffled screams, along with the sound of waves crashing agains the shoreline.

It was all that haunted your nightmares for the next year or so, coming back with dripping fingers, taking you deep down into the void.

When you were rescued, you had to be sedated in fear of becoming a danger to everyone else.

Quickly after waking up, you had been informed that Peeta had brutally attacked Katniss, strangling her to near death. You understood his actions and what drove him to them, and you wished that the young boy would recover quickly, although now you were well aware that these kinds of scars will never truly heal, never fully disappear.

Lost deep in thought, you failed to notice how Finnick's muscular arms wrapped tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

His deep, hushed voice whispered, "What are you thinking, my love?" It never failed to send a pleasurable chill down your spine. Melting into his embrace, your eyes fluttered shut, your head leaning to his.

"Just... About the water," You paused, releasing a soft sigh, "It looks so calm, so safe, and yet I'm still so, so afraid."

You felt Finnick's fingers feeling the soft material of your sundress, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers.

His voice was soothing, dripping with sweetness as he spoke, "We can go back, love. You don't have to do this."

You shook your head. "I need to do this."

He nodded his head, slightly lifting his head to place a kiss on your cheek, his hands caressing your waist. He then slowly let go, one of his hands travelling to your shoulder, then down your arm until his fingers interlocked with yours, fitting perfectly like a key in a lock.

"Let's get this over and done with then."

You smiled softly, though it didn't quite reach your eyes.

You stood a good couple of feet away from where the water met the sand, and yet your heart was still rattling like a wild bird in a small cage.

Finnick was trying something called 'Exposure Therapy' on you, as suggested by a doctor from 13. It involved you and the water. It took you a long while to be okay with showers, however the bathtub was not an option. That was something you couldn't overcome in your short time in the hospital.

Though now, as Finnick encouraged you to face your deepest nightmares, you felt grateful to at least be able enough to listen to and to watch the waves.

It used to be your most favourite thing to do in the world, and Snow took it away with just a lift of his finger.

Eyes heavily trained on the water, your mind had gone blank. Your lips slowly opened, stuttering over complete silence. You heard Finnick chuckle, and felt his body shake. He turned wholly to you, placing his free hand on your cheek, gazing into your eyes lovingly.

"I'm here, love. We're in District 4, standing on our favourite beach, watching the sea." Finnick said slowly, voice hushed as his eyes searched yours. "As long as I'm around you'll always be protected, always be safe." He continued, placing a tender kiss to your lips, and you leaned in, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

As the two of you parted, you nodded your head lightly, gaze never leaving his.

A soft smile stretched across his face, his teeth gently peering through the gap between his lips. His dimples were also peering through, and you felt the urge to touch his face, to feel his skin on yours.

"Now, we'll go into the water, is that okay?" He asked, but you didn't respond. You didn't nod or shake your head, you didn't utter a single word. All you could do was swallow down your fear, and shakily grip his hand.

Finnick's free hand came to hold the side of your face again, his own face coming closer and closer, until your foreheads touched and your eyes were closed, listening intently to the sound of the waves, the sound of his voice.

"I've got you darling. You're safe." He continued, and pressed another kiss to your lips. Your grip on his hand tightened, and your free hand travelled up to his hair, gliding through the golden locks, down to his cheek.

Your hand caressed his sun-kissed skin. You didn't open your eyes, and instead squinted them shut as you felt the fear creeping up your bones.

"Look at me honey, I need you to show me that you know you're safe." He says, nudging your nose with his. "I'm gonna be with you every step of the way darling. With me around you ain't got nothing to be afraid of." He whispered softly, his hand squeezing yours back as he took two steps back, pulling on your hand.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you could feel your breath beginning to hitch as you moved two steps forward.

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, before it began to hammer again. With a deep breath, you nod your head.

"You'll keep me safe, Finn."

At that, the corners of his lips curled upwards, his dimples coming back. You trailed closely to him, leaving an arm's length between your bodies.

The sand beneath your feet was soft, still dry as you trudged forward, coming closer and closer to the foamy, pink waves. You slowly looked up, and with laboured breaths, you noticed how pretty the cloudy sky was.

The rising sun casted a candy cotton colour to the skies. The rays gently grasped at the horizon, and you stumbled for a moment, your breathing calming as a light breeze took a hold of your hair, pulling it as it went past you.

A soft smile appeared on your lips, and you felt a snap of confidence rush through your veins. In the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick turning back to look at you, his small footsteps coming to a stop as he allowed you to absorb the beauty of the morning sky, his eyes softening at the sight.

You looked to him, grinning a toothy smile as you gave his hand a tight squeeze. With a nod of your head, Finnick began moving again, tugging you towards the water, his warm hand embracing yours.

At first, you only felt the tame licks of coolness against your feet. The confidence you felt quickly evaporated.

You felt terrified, heart pounding against your chest with a long-known fervor, but you also felt the smallest bit of comfort.

It reminded you of how you and Finnick would run into the water, swim into the unknown depths without a single bit of fear. Back when you were kids, back when you were safe from the ghastly tentacles of the Hunger Games.

Now, as you stood there, your mind was at war. More water began lapping at your feet, dragging soggy sand over your skin lazily.

"Is this okay?" Finnick's soft voice ripped through the air, and you looked up, seeing how he was standing over you protectively, hands ready to lift you effortlessly and get away from the sea. His golden locks bounced in the sea breeze, the sun shone behind him, highlighting his honeyed skin.

"Y-yes, it feels... Strange. But I can stand it." Your voice was merely a whisper, and it tugged heavily at Finnick's heartstrings. He looked you over, noting how gorgeous you were in your white sundress, miniature sunflower patterns decorating the entirty of the fabric. Your feet had dug deep into the sand beneath, your legs frozen still, unmoving.

"Can you go any further?" His voice was sweet, steady and full of love. You nodded your head, but struggled to move. Finnick took note of this, and his arm easily wrapped around your waist, guiding you forward. "We can stop at any point, just give me a sign."

The more steps you took, the more numb your limbs became. The water was cold, freezing cold. The sand mostly smooth, though a couple round stones and seashells dug into the soft skin of your feet, lessening as you walked further into the sea, the water rising gradually.

It's when the two of you reached far enough for the water to lap at the hem of your dress that you singalled for Finnick to stop. The waves were much larger, swaying your bodies upwards, but they were also much gentler at this distance. A blanket of darkness enveloped you, and you felt a trickle of sweat falling down the side of your forehead, numerous shivers going down your spine.

Your breath stuttered, and your eyes focused on the water, your muscles cramping.

Finnick stood behind you, placing his warm hands on your hips. He placed soothing kisses to your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your cheek. If it wasn't for him, you'd already be crying hysterically.

His embrace was warm and secure, comforting and mellow. His kisses softly ghosted over your skin, and his hands secured you into place, ready to whisk you away at any moment.

The two of you stood like this for a long while, enjoying each others warmth, feeling the gentle sway of the waves, and your heart eventually calmed, slowly but surely. The waves remained steady, passing by you as though you were nothing but a phantom.

Slowly, your feet began to move, until you were waist deep in the water, eyes closed in concentration, Finnick holding you tightly. Your mouth was dried up, and your eyebrows furrowed in worry, stress cursing through your veins, pulsing like your heartbeat.

"You're doing great, love," Finnick softly muttered, grazing his skin against your own, arms wrapped around your torso to keep you warm, his fluffy hair tickling your face. "You're doing so good, keep going." His voice eased your nerves, and slowly but surely, your shoulders relaxed, and you released a shaky breath.

"Thank you Finn, thank you." You whispered, and you fought hard to open your eyes, but the wet sensation of tears had stopped you. You began to sniffle softly, and soon you felt the tears escaping your closed eyes, sliding down your cheek.

Finnick's thumb quickly wiped the first stray tear away, but more poured out. Your quiet sniffles turned into hiccups, body shaking with every breath you took, with every movement of the waves. Finnick gently lifted you up, carrying you away from the water, until you were safely seated in the soft sand, far out of the waters reach.

"I'm sorry..- I- I couldn't do it, Finnick." You sobbed out, tightly gripping his white T-shirt in your fist, crumpling the soft material.

Your meek, silky tears were cushioned by his shirt, his hand caressing your back with delicate strokes.

"It's okay honey, you did so well today..." Finnick softly muttered into your ear, his voice helping to ease your guilt. You knew how desperate he was to go swimming with you again, to be able to explore the kelp forests and spend day and night relaxing in the waters.

"I'm so so so s-sorry.." You continued, and laid in his arms for a while, until the tears dried up and you were left laying in his lap, watching as the sun made its way higher up into the sky, the sea gently swishing back and forth.

You had been there for hours, silently watching.

You could feel Finnick's stomach begin to rumble, and you shifted in his lap, leaning your head back to look at him.

His eyes were boring into the sea, watching with furrowed brows as he was lost in thought.

"Finn... Finnick," You whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline, "I think it's time to go, I can hear that you're hungry."

He blinked a few times, inhaling deeply as he looked down at you.

"Are you sure?" He asked, unsure and unwilling to leave the comfortable spot.

You nodded your head, lightly sitting up but his arms stopped you.

"I think Johanna might be bored of looking after the baby." You spoke with a smile, and Finnick reciprocated with a toothy grin of his, shaking his head lightly.

"Oh she loves our boy, she's always calling asking to come see us." He said sweetly, his grin having turned into a soft smile.

"Fine.. We need to stop by the market anyway, we've barely got any food." You said, leaning back on your hands, sitting between Finnick's spread legs.

"I can go catch something, you know. Maybe some abalone or something, like we used to." Finnick said, trying to convince you.

You didn't need much convincing though, as you knew how much he wanted to go back into the water. Maybe someday you'd be able to join him again.

"Off you go then, but don't be too long, and- and be careful. Okay?" You asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry, lifting your hand to caress his cheek.

Finnick leaned into your touch, the soft smile remaining on his face as he nodded.

"I won't be long, I promise."

With that, the two of you stood up, and you embraced each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck, Finnick's hands finding their rightful place on your waist.

The two of you shared a deep kiss, lips moving together in sync as you smiled, feeling your heartbeat speed up.

The wind tugged at your hair, invisible fingers stroking through it as it flowed by.

Finnick's hold on you tightened, and you felt him inhale deeply, his feet shifting in place. You smiled into the kiss, and felt his tongue dart out slightly, ghosting over your bottom lip.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging smoothly at the roots, eliciting a groan from him.

You parted from him, hands leaving his hair, coming down to his shoulders.

His lips chased yours for a second, eyes shut as he nudged your nose with his.

You allowed him one last peck, and then moved your face further away, forcing Finnick to open his eyes.

"Go on, I'll be here, waiting." You spoke softly, the smile on your lips finally reaching your eyes.

Finnick nodded with heavy lidded eyes, his lashes casting pale shadows over his cheeks.

"Fine, but you owe me one more kiss." He stated quietly, his hand flying up to the back of your head, keeping it in place as he stole a passionate kiss from your lips.

He then let go, saying a soft, 'I'll be back in a bit', before he stripped his shirt, handing it to you as he flexed his muscles.

You laughed out loud, head hanging back. He truly never failed to make you laugh.

With one last hug, Finnick proceeded to jog off towards the water, his body disappearing further beneath the waves until you saw him dipping under, for a long while.

You sat in the sand, eyes trained on the water.

He would make a reappearance from time to time for some air, before he'd dip back in.

It took him a long while, but eventually he returned, swimming up to the shore with pocketfuls, one hand grasping a whole bunch of abalone.

You raised your eyebrows in bewilderment, extending the corners of his shirt to create a makeshift basket.

Finnick dumped all of the creatures into it, and you tied the ends together, a gleeful smile on your face. "You sure got a lot." You said, shaking your head at him.

Finnick grinned at you, and you looked him over, from his dripping hair to his toned chest, to his shorts.

There was one more, rather large, shell poking at his pocket.

"I think you forgot some there." You pointed out, and Finnick shook his head with a smile.

"This one isn't for eating," he stated with a laugh, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve a snail shell, "It's for you." He said softly, handing you the object.

You looked over it, your fingers tracing the intricate, dark red patterns embroidered into the shell. The overall colour was a faint rosé pink, one of your favourite colours. It felt hard in your clutch, but sturdy and strong.

You brought the shell, or rather conch, up to your ear and listened.

After a short moment, you heard the distant sound of wind echoing through the conch. It sounded much different to the breeze present at the beach, but it was calming, comforting.

You looked up to Finnick, unable to hide your smile.

"It's beautiful... H-How did you find it?" You asked, surprise lacing your voice.

"I looked far and wide for it, I wanted to give you something to remember today," Finnick muttered, his voice gravelly and deep as he tried to catch your gaze, "You did so well today, and I want you to know that I'm so proud of you darling."

He spoke softly, and reached a hand up to your chin, lifting it so that you'd look at him.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you shook your head with a smile. Reaching on your tiptoes, you placed a tender kiss to his lips, feeling how his hand embraced your cheek.

"Thank you Finnick. It's beautiful," You whispered after the two of you parted, feeling the shell in your palm, "I love you so much."

His toothy grin stretched across his cheeks, and Finnick shook his head, gazing at you lovingly, his fingers stroking mellow circles into your waist, "I love you more darling."