#District Ten Victors

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

Hunger Games, my OCs District Ten’s Victors.

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It had started in innocence, Angus and his dad used to joke they were outnumbered by the girls in his family, his mom, sisters, aunts and cousins, then the war happened and Angus tried to keep the joke up when it was just him, his littlest sister and closest cousin. A family of twenty down to three.

Whatever innocence left, died quickly when the reapings started and the games kept repeating.

District 10 is the livestock district. It isn't that hard to accept that two of their children every year are just as much livestock as the animals they sent, or the meat, a fair trade to keep those behind alive.

He was outnumbered by the peacekeepers on the 9th reaping when it was his own name, even if he wasn’t he couldn’t fight when it would bring them down on his girls. Then in the games he was outnumbered one against twenty two.

Twenty two because nothing would make him raise a hand against the little girl that had spent the train ride sobbing into his shirt the same way his sister did after a nightmare. He didn’t need to worry about that though as his last clear memory from his games was his thin neck snapping at the hands of a much bigger kid.

He’s fifteen and about to die.

His next clear memory was a hammer in his hands and realising the wet stickiness covering him was blood and other stuff.

He’s outnumbered in the district, the only one to return and every pair of eyes he can feel on screams they would have wanted someone else back.

He’s outnumbered when Peacekeepers arrive for him with a stylist a few years later when  they decide the Victors have the honour to mentor the new tribute. He’s outnumbered in the Capitol, one of the few real people in a sea of mockeries, how can people laugh and cheer as children die?

After a few more years he’s outnumbered as the sole Victor from the outer districts. He’s outnumbered by the number of dead children piling up next to his name as every year he returns to Ten sitting between another pair of wooden boxes.

His close calls, the children he can almost see coming home with him, are outnumbered by the children dead in the first few days.

Even his miracles are outnumbered, not by the many children he failed to save but by the many ways he failed them.

Lambert Edwin, his first success after years of waiting, already full of anger before his name was called. Who had only smiled when Edwin told him “No rules, don’t hold back.” had gone into the games and reflected the Capitol’s true bloodlust back at them with his hooks and habit of leaving the tribute hung up to bleed, a true son of the slaughterhouses.

And when he came out Angus covered him in rules but failed him, because for all he had watched and learnt he couldn’t stop it all repeating on his victor. Couldn’t stop the games following him and taking his mother, couldn’t warn his charge not to let those in the Capitol near because they wouldn’t accept the word No once they had a taste.

In the end his angry boy Lambert was remade by into Capitol’s Edwin, a charming stallion.

Ten’s the livestock district, Angus should have known better, deadstock or breeding stock, those reaped belong to the Capitol. 

Cuckoo who went into the games with a mask of a sadist to cover a romantic at heart, who had already killed the girl she was, when she introduced herself as Culla in the interviews and had her face all over the Capitol the night she killed half the Careers when she lured the Games mutts to where they slept.

Highest kill count for a non-career but the Capitol only cared for the pretty girl biting an apple as red as her lips. She went to the parties without being reminded of the cost, if she didn’t, she shrugged off the marks left behind because she believed they couldn’t truly touch her and Angus hadn’t warned her. 

So when Charley was reaped she broke, the younger brother to her once fiance, the only one from home who had never flinched when she came back. Charley went into the games, as Talon, he was strong, handsome, charming and everything you could need in a victor.

But Angus has learnt that means little and his reaping wasn’t by chance, so while Angus and Edwin worked to keep him alive he hadn’t been able to stop Cuckoo, his hidden romantic from making a deal with the devil.

And in the aftermath of the games Culla and Talon were wed in the Capitol and in the years that follow their ‘happy ending’ Angus watches as his future failures are born, children the Capitol greet with cheers and one day will cry over as they are reaped and die in the games.

Children bred to die, because Ten is the livestock district they know how this goes.

His latest Hereford, who barely counts as a success as he fails her from the beginning, the girl who volunteered to save a friend and had no plans to win at all, only agreeing to live long enough to kill her 12 year old partner.

They dress them as a pair of little lambs, ‘lambs to the slaughter’. She's fifteen and ready for her death and laughs at the joke, bright and free. He was fifteen once, when he picked up a hammer and started outnumbering himself with dead children.

Snow tells him to ensure she wins, so he can remind the current Career districts that they can be replaced, Angus doesn’t know why but he has learnt not to question. So he breaks his one promise, that every one of his tributes can choose to die, and sends her a message, she’s a smart girl she understands it She dies, her family follows.

For years the shows replay the moment she stares at the camera as the moment she decided she ‘would not fall’, Angus knows it as betrayal, it’s the last moment she lets herself show anger.

The friend she volunteered for dies with her family at the same moment Hereford wins, ‘gas leak what a shame’, Snow smiles when he tells Angus, Hereford’s family is left alone.

When she comes out, the interview gives her a new name, Fera for the way she fought desperately to win and because the Capitol already has a Hera from Two. Fera smiles and laughs and it’s empty and fake.

He lives in a village, where the empty houses outnumber the full ones and now he wants it to stay that way until something changes because for every filled house there are twenty three dead children and a broken survivor that he keeps failing.

But it won’t until all the districts learn to ignore the blood of each other's children and turn together against the Capitol, until then they outnumber themselves.

It’s the same within the games, two children against twenty two others.

For the victors where they are dragged out of the games as nothing more than bloody children and dressed up to be torn apart by either the grasping hands of the Capitol or their own nightmares that haunt them.

Ten maybe be the livestock district but to the Capitol they’re the all livestock, but every stockman knows to remain wary around your stock and them, in their painted wigs have forgotten that if they ever knew it.

Angus is old and there's no innocence left, but he’s learned patience and now he’s just waiting for a spark of a fire to start a stampede, that will crush the unaware in the centre.

[nadjaofstatenisland]

Props to Suzanne Collins for having some throw away line in one of the first chapters of The Hunger Games about there only ever having been two victors from district 12 and then never mentioning who the one was besides Haymitch and then writing a book ten years later all about who that first victor was with leaving us with just enough doubt about her fate... now that is good writing

[maevesheart]

only angel

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: takes place during the third quarter quell!

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 3.5k

tw: cursing, the different death traps within the arena

only angel (2)

Haymitch’s voice was sharp as he led Katniss and Peeta through the list of their new competition.

Your face lit up the screen, a smile as you took your place next to Brutus, your district-mate. Who you’d soon need to kill.

“Y/N L/N. District Two.”

“In the Capitol, they call her the angel,” Haymitch laughed, taking a swig from his flask after pointing to you.

“She looks harmless,” Peeta commented, noting your smaller-build as compared to other victors, especially Brutus.

“Trust me, she isn’t,” Haymitch shook his head, walking to the other side of the screen.

“The angel of death. One of the youngest Victors ever, winning the 68th games at 15. A Capitol favorite, but very different than the rest of the careers.”

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other in confusion. Considering you were from Two, you would’ve been a key member of a career pack.

Haymitch noted their expressions and continued, “she killed her career pack the first night. It was three versus one, very gruesome. But the Capitol loves her, and she’ll likely get lots of sponsors. The other careers will be hesitant to ally with her, including Brutus, who she publicly hates. Try not to make an enemy of her, she’s extremely well-trained in combat, especially with swords. Highest kill count the games had seen in years, around ten tributes.”

It was common that Career packs turned on each other as the games progressed, but to kill off the whole pack in one night was almost unheard of.

Katniss and Peeta remembered your games, they remembered watching as you slit your district-mate’s throat, and when you broke another’s neck while sitting on their shoulders. They remembered watching you in the final moments, taking out both tributes from Eleven with one sword, going through both their abdomens. You always put on a show for the Capitol citizen’s, killing the other contestants in the most gruesome ways possible.

And they knew that they definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of one of your death tricks.

“Why would we ally with her if she’s just going to kill us the first night, like she did her other games?” Katniss’ voice was hard and her lips were pressed in a straight line.

“Don’t we have that threat anyways? From all the other tributes as well?” Peeta asked Katniss, trying to get her more accustomed to the idea of an ally.

“The other Careers will steer clear of her, I recommend finding a way to get her on your side. The last thing you want is the Careers and the Angel hunting you.”

Katniss and Peeta both made a note to introduce themselves tomorrow during the parade, wanting to asses the angel of death themselves.

You scoffed looking down at your outfit, a thin, short bodycon dress that was golden, and a long flowing black and gold cape that reached the floor.

You had on knee-high boots, adding to the obvious sexual-appeal of your outfit. You would’ve killed your stylist on sight if it weren’t for the many other tributes and people around.

And of course, she had strapped you into a set of golden wings, always playing into the sardonic nickname you had been given all those years ago.

The sponsors loved it however, and you knew exactly how to play into the palms of their hands.

Brutus was in a matching get-up — without the wings, of course—, flexing his arms, waiting for a response from you. You hated him, and made it very well known.

You turned away, refusing to give a reaction. God, you detested your district. The only thing good that ever came out of the games for you was the money, which helped you and your family greatly, but you found your fellow Victor incompetent and selfish.

Your somewhat blissful bubble of isolation was broken when Finnick approached you, the two tributes from Twelve trailing him.

You rolled your eyes, rather dramatically, and stepped down from the Chariot, not missing the obvious ways the two men’s eyes raked up and down your very exposed body.

“I’ll make note of those stares when I decide to kill you,” you smile, earring a chuckle from Katniss. At least someone found it funny; you didn’t.

“And this is Y/N, my lovely friend,” Finnick announced, snaking an arm around you.

You and Finnick had a short-lived relationship a few years back, after you had won your games. He had won his very young, just like you had, and the two of you bonded over the shared trauma.

Snow had destined you to the same unwilling fate as Finnick, selling your body and pride to anyone interested in the Capitol.

Your brief love story ended after a rather bitter fight, you and Finnick throwing around baseless accusations.

You hadn’t talked to Finnick in over three years, other than the surface-level and small-talk conversations you shared at various parties and Victor events.

“Hardly a friend, but you know,” you smiled, pushing Finnick’s arm off your body.

If he was hurt by your action, he didn’t respond, and ushered for Peeta and Katniss to introduce themselves.

Finally, Peeta broke the tension.

“I’m Peeta, and this is Katniss,”

You recognized them, but honestly didn’t care. You knew Katniss could be a strategic killer but Peeta really didn’t have any skills other than his strength, and you figured he’d be an easy target.

“If we were under different circumstances, I’d say it’s nice to meet you. But I don’t think I should say that to someone I’ll be killing in a few days,” you laughed, the sickly-sweet one that you faked for the Capitol citizens. They loved you, more than they loved the star-crossed lovers. And you were not about to let two teenagers forget their place. 

Katniss’s face was hard, but Peeta broke an awkward laugh, eyes averting your gaze. Finnick was still smiling, trying hard to keep himself from laughing at your depreciating jokes.

You suddenly pointed to Katniss, a fire burning beneath your eyes.

“You’re the one who killed my Cato,” your voice was hard, almost… emotional?

Peeta’s eyes widening, remembering the boy from Two who almost killed them both. The boy you likely poured hours of training and dedication into.

“It was him or Peeta,” Katniss speaks, refusing to break your intense eye-contact.

You cock your head to the side, silently challenging her.

Cato was a strong warrior, fierce and powerful. You had high hopes he would win, unrelenting confidence in him. You mentored him the way Enobaria had mentored you… made him into a friend.

Looking back, you knew you had become too attached to the boy, but he was your shot of proving to everyone that you still had it in you. To not discount you.

Only other mentors would know the pain of becoming close with a tribute and then watching them die.

You didn’t respond to her, instead pursed your lips and held back a scoff, knowing he would’ve won if it weren’t for the Capitol’s adoration of the lovers from Twelve.

“I apologize for her crudeness. The games bring out her nasty side,” Finnick smiles, hiding a wince when you lodge your elbow into his ribs.

“Tiny but mighty!” He squeaks out, hand rubbing over where you just jammed him.

With one final rake over your unsuspecting body, Katniss grabbed Peeta and ushered him away. Much to your dismay, Finnick stayed next to you.

“I’m making us allies, Y/N. At least act a little civilized!” Finnick’s voice was low but stern, earning a scoff from you as a response.

“You think I’m going to fight alongside you?” You wonder aloud, narrowed eyes barring into his.

He looks slightly taken aback, eyes widening before he composes himself once again.

“Fine. I’ll see you later,” he brushes you off, walking away to his own Chariot.

You had your own friends in this game. Johanna, and… well that was really all. And you knew Johanna would want to work alongside Finnick as well.

You determined it wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would give you the ability to ensure that he wouldn’t be killed.

But that meant that you’d have to kill him in the end, right? There was only one winner, and you didn’t want to have to turn on your friends like you did the other Careers in your games.

The next day, during training, Katniss approached you alone.

She watched from behind as you practiced with Johanna, a sword in each hand blocking her repeated swings with her axe.

“No lover boy?” You asked, turning around and the swords lowering to your sides.

Johanna smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was one of the few who you didn’t dish out attitude to.

“Wanted to get to know you myself, Angel of death,” Katniss spoke, voice steady and unwavering.

You lightly tilted your head to the side, smirking at her use of your infamous nickname.

“Well here I am! An Angel in the flesh. What can I do for you, girl on fire?”

“If you teach me some of your combat tricks, I can teach you how to use a bow?”

You quirked a brow at her offer, Johanna stifling a laugh behind you.

“I know how to shoot a bow and arrow,” you replied. Katniss’s face didn’t falter, but she stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“Not like I do.”

You finally gave in, letting her instruct you how to properly pull the string back and which eye was most ideal for accuracy.

You worked with Katniss and found her company rather enjoyable. According to Enobaria, Katniss reminded her of you. Stubborn and combatant.

She was funny, usually without meaning to be, and as much as you hated to admit, your craftsmanship with the bow did increase. Even after just a few practices with her.

In the second day of training, you were teaching her how to effectively wield a knife, and where the best places to aim for were.

A few other tributes had gathered around to watch before you scared them off, mock-lunging at them from your spot on the mat.

“Making friends, are we?” Finnick’s voice cut through the sounds of Katniss’s grunts as you pinned her to the ground, snatching the blade from her hand.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, sticking out your hand for Katniss to take.

“Better than you, yes,” you smiled, hauling Katniss’s body up off the ground.

Katniss thanked you for the help and then excused herself, slinking back over to where Peeta stood with Mags.

“Finally taking my advice, it seems,” Finnick triumphantly smiled, watching you scowl.

“She wouldn’t make a bad accomplice,” you answer back, though slightly abashed.

“Mhm. Looks like we’re gonna be on the same team,” he picks his trident off the wall of weapons and you gesture for the mat you had just stepped off.

“Wanna go a round?”

You watched with annoyance as Cashmere and Gloss stood with Ceaser, fake crocodile tears down both their faces.

You agreed with all they were saying, but you couldn’t stand the faux-ness of everyone around you. You knew in a few moments it would be your turn, and you’d have to get up on that stage and act like the sweet little girl they all remembered you as. But you had changed, and all because of their stupid games.

“Everyone, please welcome our favorite angel, Y/N L/N of District Two!”

You plastered a grin on your face as you waltzed out, a large sun-inspired headpiece catching the attention of the audience.

Your halo, as they all would say.

You waved, laughing at every joke Ceasar cracked.

“We are so glad to have our Capitol’s Angel back, aren’t we everyone?!” Ceasar’s stark-white smile was bright and you mimicked it, blushing as the crowd cheered your name.

“Now, Y/N, it’s been seven years since you won your games. How do you think this time it will be different?”

You knew it was coming, the questions about your game. You hated speaking about it, but it was all a part of winning.

“Different? Oh, Ceasar, we both know this won’t be the last time you’re gonna see me!” You giggled, the crowd roaring with excitement over your confidence.

His laugh boomed through the auditorium and you smiled, having him eat right out of your palm.

He complimented your hair piece, noting that it was the perfect halo for the perfect Angel. You smiled, feigned innocence. Anything to get you sponsors.

“Our sweet Y/N, I don’t know how we’re going to let you go!”

“Well, you don’t have to!” You smiled again, the audience awe-ing.

“You all have been so gracious to me, so wonderful. I couldn’t have possibly been given a better life if it weren’t for you all,” you gestured out to the audience.

“You flatter us,”

“No, no. Just know that I’m not going by choice. And I would chose to stay with you all if I had the option.”

You shed a stray forced tear from your face, slightly smudging the makeup your prep-team had spent hours doing.

The audience loved it, continuing to play into your sweet facade.

How ironic. A sweet innocent angel who turns into a brutal murderer.

They roared as you stood up and gave them a small bow, before joining Brutus and the siblings up in the stands. The three of them offered you glares, knowing you had out-done them in sponsorships.

You watched impatiently as the other districts rolled in, holding in a gag when Finnick professed his love to a girl back in the districts.

The idea of him having a girl waiting back in Four caused your stomach to begin to hurt. How did he find someone else when your nights were spent alone in a cold bed?

You were jealous, though you wouldn’t admit it out loud. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You knew it wasn’t true though, just a ruse for possible sponsors and sympathy. You had done the same.

Finally, after Peeta had stepped down from the stage, you were all allowed to retreat back to your floors.

You laid in bed that night, every possible scenario wracking your mind. These weren’t gonna be like your games. There was no way.

These competitors, they were ruthless and driven, just like you. They had won once, just like you.

How the hell were you going to win this?

The first thing you noticed as you were brought to the surface was how hot it was. Blazing sun beating down onto your covered skin.

You didn’t let yourself focus on for long, and you looked to each side, Johanna on your left and the male tribute from Six on your right.

Johanna nodded to you, and you returned the gesture. She had snuck to your room last night and told you the plan. Haymitch had pitched it to her before the interviews, and your only job was to keep Katniss safe until Plutarch and Coin could retrieve all of you.

You took in your surroundings, lots of water — you were an excellent swimmer, you’d be fine —, a large cornucopia in the middle (easy enough if you’re fast), and dense forests with sand. The sand left a bad taste in your mouth, reminding you of your games, which had been in a desert.

You never wanted to see sand again in your life.

But you’d push through it, the idea of being rescued by Thirteen and finally getting to live in peace resonated in your mind, you knew who the real enemy was.

The sound of the familiar gong sounded out, and you dove into the water, moving your limbs as fast as you could.

You were small, but damn, you were fast.

You reached the Cornucopia in record time, lunging for your two swords, and then throwing a belt of knives around your body.

You turned, knife quickly entering the abdomen of the girl of Eight.

Gloss grinned at you from behind the girl, and you scowled back, running back down the middle to get to the sand.

You found Wiress in the middle of the rocks, and tugged her with you, finding Johanna and Beetee a little ways away.

“Let’s get as far as we can,” Johanna announced, axe glistening in her hand.

The four of you walked for what felt like hours, Beetee and Wiress whispering about something relating to technology that you didn’t care about.

Finally, once nightfall neared, you set up camp. Wiress and Beetee offered to stay up, and you and Johanna had no problem allowing that, drifting off to sleep against a tree.

The next day came quickly, the four of you trying to gain more ground and hopefully find Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta.

You had watched Mags’s name flash across the sky last night and felt your heart-strings tug, wishing you could console Finnick.

The landscape was vast and there was lots of vegetation, your sword becoming very useful to get through the thick plants.

You and Johanna walked behind the two tech-savvy’s, silence as the two of you tried your hardest not to trip.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” you groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Johanna hummed, but before she could respond, the sound of rain echoed around your bodies.

You cried in happiness, opening your mouth to take in the water.

As soon as the first drop hit your tongue you knew, eyes widening in realization.

“It’s blood! Run!” You screamed, tugging Beetee as you barreled to the ground, running through a thick fog of blood.

Who’s — you didn’t want to know.

You stumbled around in the dark, blood coating your entire body. You were choking on it, coughing and sputtering, not caring anymore if Beetee and Wiress were following.

Your foot caught on a root, and you went tumbling down, one sword being thrown to a side, out of your view.

The belt of knives sat snug around your waist, your other sword still in your palm.

You shrieked as you fell, Johanna’s voice distant as she called your name.

You hit a tree, back bracing most of the impact. You groaned, slightly pushing yourself up off the ground.

A hand gripped your bicep, tugging you off the ground. You weren’t entirely sure who it was, but they shoved your other sword back into your hand, and gave you a push forwards, encouraging you to keep moving forwards.

You obliged, using one sword as a brim to keep the blood rain from your eyes.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You now could hear Johanna more clearly, her hands grabbing you and pulling you into the sand, Beetee trailing out after you.

Johanna repeatedly slapped your back, helping you cough out all the blood. You were gagging on the air, a hand on Johanna’s shoulder to steady yourself.

She pulled you towards the beach, helping you sit down in the water.

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Wiress mumbled behind you two, wandering around on the sand.

“Nuts,” Johanna shook her head, cleaning off her face as you did the same.

You winced as you moved down to clean your legs, a large gash across your thigh.

“Ouch,” Johanna commented, noting the blood pouring out the wound.

“Guess I sliced it when I fell,” you bit your lip as you tried to clean the wound, using the sleeve of your top.

“Y/N! Johanna!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Finnick’s voice, a relieved smile spreading across your face.

You ignored the pain searing through your leg as you rushed to him, hands wrapping around his torso.

He stumbled back in shock, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, asking what was wrong.

“Oh, Finn, I’m sorry about Mags,”

You pulled back to look at his face, eyes softening over the clear sleep-deprivation.

As you went to take a step backwards, you winced, Finnick’s hands on your biceps to keep you from toppling backwards.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes scouring your whole body.

You would’ve answered if you had the strength, but you fell forwards, straight into his chest, losing conscious.

Johanna helped Finnick prop you against the tree, and Katniss went to retrieve water while Peeta tried to fish for something to eat.

Finnick tried his hardest to clean the wound while you slept, prying all the information out of Johanna that she could.

You awoke to Katniss pouring water over your leg, grunting as you sat up, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, Katniss nodding before walking away to Peeta.

“You had me so worried,” Finnick shook his head, eyes not leaving your face.

“Just a cut, Finn. I’m alright,” you assure him, eyes soft as they meet his own.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” you add on, turning slightly so you’re facing him.

He shakes his head but you continue, “for all those awful things I said to you…. It wasn’t right.”

You knew this was being broadcasted for all the Districts to see, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he knew how much you regretted your harsh words.

His hand comes up to cup your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry too, I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“We both did,” you lightly laugh, pulling a small smile from Finnick.

“I missed you,” he whispers, “you really scared me earlier. Thought I had lost you,”

You shook your head, leaning into his hand that still cupped your face.

“Could never lose me. Not now,”

You flutter your eyes closed as his lips meet yours. Your hands tangle around his neck and into his hair, both his hands on your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

All the unhatched feelings and emotions, the words the two of you wished to declare to each other, were poured into this kiss.

It was slow, passionate. Picking right up where you left off those years ago.

“Alright, love birds! Time to hunt!” Johanna exclaims, the two of you pulling a part. A light blush dots your cheeks and Finnick is wearing one of his stupid shit-eating grins.

Finnick stands quickly, helping you up. The pain is mostly gone, just a light sting as you all make your way back to the Cornucopia.

And you know then, that you’d die for him. Over and over. You’d lose these games, lose the war. Just to ensure that he’d live.

**

[bettysupremacy]

idk if you write for finnick.. but could you write something where it’s the beginning of the quarter quell and he can’t find her? Just pure panic as he runs around the cornucopia?

I’ve never written for him before but I love him! idk how I feel about this but I hope truly that u like it.

Icy hot terror is all Finnick feels when the timer hits one. Loud and disorienting, the bang ripples against the water in vibrations that rumble under his feet.

Where are you?

The sun blares disgustingly into his eyes and skin, an obvious manipulation of the gamemakers sick amusement, but he ignores it, plunging into the only water he’s ever dreaded to tread. You’re not in sight. He’d told you to stay away, to swim, to run as far away from the cornucopia as you could. Don’t risk it, he’d shaken your shoulders, listen to me I’ll find you.

The water is warm and gross against his skin. It’s not as refreshing as the district four that he’s familiar with. It’s hot and fake. He comes up gasping for air, letting the terror settle into his bones as he pushes against the current of a manipulated riptide. Katniss climbs the stone so he does too; pushing his feet deeper into the ground with every step he takes. His breathing is labored, jagged as he runs. He can’t find you, but he will. He can’t find you, but he can find a weapon.

The cornucopia glistens in the sun, never lacking the weaponry he’d expected from it. Bows, arrows, knives, he eyes a backpack stuffed with supplies. Could he lug it with him? Probably not. He diverts his eyes to the trident beside him. Perched in its stand, it gleams in artificial sun as the grip molds to his fingers. He squeezes the deadly lifeline.

The sound of metal on metal scrapes behind him. Katniss. He turns quick, flashing the bangle around his wrist tauntingly. “Good thing we’re allies, right?”

She breathes hard in front of him, eyebrows pulling as she pauses in bated confusion. The weapon doesn’t lower. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” He gravels, quick enough to be considered panicked. “Duck.”

She listens, dropping to the floor hard enough to sting the weeping palms she balances on. The sick squelch of his trident in the fallen tribute is covered by her hands tight over her ears as she waits for the boom. The gong sounds, and then a scream. An unmistakable scream. It settles in his stomach and throat thickly, sweating his already wet hands. You didn’t listen.

“Finnick!” The voice screams. Sobs. “Finnick! Finnick!”

The sound is nightmare-ish. Something the gamemakers could never manipulate that accurately, and deep down he knows it’s the sound you’ll wake him up from if you ever gets out of this arena alive.

“I’m coming!” His feet hit hard against the gravel as he sprints. His breathing dries his throat quick. “I’ve got you!”

“Finnick!”

“I’m coming-“

The moment skids to a halt as he finds you. Trapped in the arms of a larger, broader tribute, you struggle for air as he headlocks you. He considers doing something rash, but Katniss behind you shakes her head. Like she can see it in his eyes. It’s a slow, quiet moment, hunter quiet as she stalks closer. Finnick eyes her wary to give her away.

“We can talk about this.” Finnick rationalizes slowly. “It’s the beginning of the game.”

“So?” His arm tightens around your neck. Your squeak breaks Finnicks heart.

“Finnick.” You strain.

“Give the viewers what they want.” Finn pleads. “A show. You can’t kill her so quick.”

“I don’t see a bargain being made.”

A bargain? It’s the first ten minutes and he stands next to a gleaming cornucopia filled with sharp armory. He could get something better than a simple metal trident. Throwing knives, poison, a machete. Finnick suspects the victor is doing what he pleaded. Giving the audience a show.

“Take my trident!” He nearly crashes, cool demeanor dropping as he watches you tap the man’s arm in panic, your air slowly constricting. “Give me her.”

It sickens Katniss; the ability to kill someone for views. To feed into the capitals agenda. This is a necessary kill, she reasons, this isn’t for her own survival. This isn’t a selfish homicide; this is Rue in the net, Prim on the stage. This is the girl she could save. Katniss’ fingers loosen, letting the elaborate metal fly from her grip. It hits the nameless career in the back. Her target.

The moment slows in Finnicks eyes. Katniss stands far, arms hanging limply at her sides. She stares at him, grateful for the thankfulness in his eyes that eases her burdened chest.

“Y/N.” He gasps as the man falls hard on you. He runs, helping you from under the heavy weight. “I’ve got you now.”

“Finn.” You weep, hands in his as he lifts you. You stumble, crashing into him hard. He hears a sob in his tribute suit. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you to listen to me.” He doesn’t anger, but this feels close to it as he grips you tightly. “I told you to run.”

You heave, greedy for fresh air, but your lungs are infiltrated by the heady scent of salt water. His hand calms the coughs that rake through your chest, guilty for his scolding. It’s a quiet moment in the calamity of the bloodbath, a stolen moment that he can’t afford to prolong another second.

“Cmon,” He eyes you, hands cupping your face, then falling as he looks up to Katniss. “Let’s go find Peeta.”

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.

part two | part three

You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.

Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.

Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.

Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.

“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.

“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?

“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.

“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.

“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.

He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”

You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.

“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”

“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.

“Finnick,” you snap.

He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”

You breeze past him.

“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.

“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.

Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.

“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.

You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.

“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.

She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.

You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”

“No, I-“

“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.

“You don’t under-“

“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”

Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.

“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.

“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.

“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.

Darla’s eyes widen in fear.

“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”

Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.

“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.

So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.

When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”

Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.

“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.

“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.

“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.

Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.

“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.

“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.

With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.

You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.

“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.

Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”

To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.

“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.

“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”

Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.

You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.

Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.

Like Jimmy Price all over again.

You stick your tongue out at him.

———————————————————

I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain

[andorerso]

rebelcaptain + the hunger games au

When Jyn Erso was eight years old, her mother died and her father left to become a gamemaker for the Hunger Games. Adopted by Saw Gerrera, her mother's friend, she became Jyn Gerrera and was forbidden from ever revealing her true identity to anyone. Ten years later, it's Jyn's last reaping. Saw, the forgotten victor of the 32nd Hunger Games, had rejected every reward the Empire offered him, preferring to live as a recluse at the edge of the forest in District 12, as opposed to the luxury in the Victors' Village. It's been decades since anyone in the district even recalled that Saw was once a victor himself, but he had made sure to teach Jyn all he knew of self-defense and combat training. It's the only thing she has of him left since his passing two years ago. Now, Jyn just wants to get through her last reaping and survive. But when she hears the name of the young girl she trades with sometimes, Jyn doesn't hesitate to volunteer in her place. She has nothing to lose, except her life, and every reason to believe that with Saw's training, she has a chance at winning the games. A chance that 12-year-old Kerri Andor wouldn't have. Things get a little more complicated when Kerri's brother is picked as the other tribute. Jyn is good at surviving, but Cassian, with his quiet cunning and surprising talent with a bow and arrow, could be a threat. Not to mention that Jyn knows he's the sole provider for his young sister and aging mother; a family who needs him. Who may die without him. Nobody is waiting for Jyn back home. When their mentor's plan to make them seem like star-crossed lovers triples the attention and sponsors they receive, Jyn is forced to play along with the scheme and pretend she has feelings for Cassian. Worst of all? She's not sure where pretending ends and where genuine feelings begin. The gamemakers say they can both go home if they're the last two tributes standing, but Jyn knows better than to believe the pretty promises of the Empire. Soon, she'll have to make a choice. Will she do anything to survive? Or will she let Cassian Andor go home to his family - even at the cost of her own life?

[ellswritings]

Don’t Be Late

Finnick Odair x Reader

TW: Regular Hunger Games angst, Finnick being a tease, mind games, mutual flirting, spicy flirting.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

Hatred. That’s the only emotion Y/N L/N felt towards one Coriolanus Snow. Having won the 72nd Hunger Games, she thought that the worst of what she would experience would be over. But how wrong she was.

The moment she stepped out of the arena is when the real trials began. She was Snow’s puppet, used to flaunt around like a prize. The only thing she supposes she can be grateful for is since she is in so high demand, Snow keeps her close. Not just anyone can touch her.

She’s valuable to him. She has a special talent that he values and it’s her ability to sing. To put on a show. She’s a desirable Victor no doubt, but Snow has never been one to let her get too far off her leash. It’s exhausting. Especially being a newer winner of the Games.

The Canary is what they call her. Fragile yet beautiful. So it was quite the shock to find out how dangerous she truly was when seeing her in the arena. Being from an outlier District, no one expected much from her. But as soon as she got her throwing knives and a sickle in her hand, they realized how much they underestimated her.

Fourteen out of the Twenty-four Tributes died because of her.

That’s how desperate she was to get home. To get back to her family. But at that time she didn’t know she’d be spending more time in the Capitol than she ever would back home. It was performance after performance with an occasional day or two spent back in District Ten. If she would have known this would be what her life would turn into, she would’ve let the dry desert conditions kill her. But at least her family was taken care of. That’s all that matters.

She misses them, of course. Everyday she calls and hopes they’re doing well. But there’s no point in getting her hopes up to see them again.

That hope was only stripped further away when she ended up being reaped for the Quarter Quell.

A small part of her wondered if Snow meant for this to happen. Perhaps she lost some of the value she once had to him, but judging by the tight look on his face when she arrived with her Tribute partner, he wasn’t happy.

There weren’t many female Tributes to choose from in their District. While it terrifies her to be thrown back into the arena, there’s a reason she has the most kills out of any Victor in the Games.

When she’s desperate, she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.

The only thing is, this time she isn’t desperate to get out. She wouldn’t mind dying this time. Maybe then she could experience real freedom and not the fake kind she was promised among her first winning.

Coming into the 75th Games was rather nerve wracking. Most of the Tributes that were reaped know each other, they’ve made friends, alliances. Y/N has never been permitted to go far enough away from Snow or his guards to make friends. Or to at least get someone to trust her. Even her escort was unsure of her chances this time around simply because she’s an outsider.

The only other two that seem to be in a similar boat is last years winners from District Twelve. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But the Girl on Fire doesn’t seem to keen on making friends. Not that Y/N blames her. Making nice with the people of the Capitol, let alone the previous Victors was no easy feat.

If Y/N could voice how she truly feels about the people she’s surrounded by, she no doubt would be hung for her very choice words.

Loud cheers erupt from overhead as she walks out to the chariots before the Tribute parade. They chant her name like a prayer as she saunters forward, but she pays no mind to the attention. Her eyes remain on the dark horses that sit politely as they wait for the parade to start.

Her long, golden dress sways freely behind her as her heels click against the concrete. The subtle shimmering patterns on the sheer white fabric resembling the free flowing image of crops being pushed by a light breeze in a large field. Her heels wind up around her calves, the thin straps also resembling the tips of wheat as it reaches the top.

The design was reminiscent of the bounty of her district, but the material was so thin that it left very little to the imagination. The gown was made in a way that accentuated her curves and showed off her body. A pair of golden shoulder plates added a touch of intimidation, making her look like the warrior she became in her first games.

She finds it hard to take deep breaths, her waist cinched into the corset so tightly that she might have permanent internal damage by the time the night is over. Golden strands are weaved throughout her hair which is braided into a half crown that rests atop her head.

This outfit is rather different than the usual ones Snow has her put in. It’s much less innocent than what she’s used to. He usually wants her portrayed as his perfect rose, incapable of tarnish. But perhaps things are different now that he might lose her.

She fights the urge to dig her nails into the palm of her hand by distracting herself. She pets the soft mane of the horse in front of her, the magnificent creature leaning into her touch like they’ve known each other for years.

Judging by the looks she’s currently receiving from the other Tributes, this horse might be the only positive relationship she’ll form over the next couple of days.

“How did we end up here, huh?” She asks the horse quietly, scratching him in the exact right place. He huffs happily which makes Y/N’s heart warm. It doesn’t happen often, but she does try to notice the beauty that’s left in Panem.

“Well, well, today must be a momentous occasion,” a sultry voice rings out behind her, making a shiver run down her spine. “The Canary has finally been let out of her cage.”

Y/N spins on her heel, her eyes narrowed. The black eyeliner making her stare look even more deadly. She stares unamused as Finnick Odair in all of his glory walks towards her, sugar cube in hand. He tosses it in the air before licking his lips seductively, stopping a bit too close to her.

She can feel his body heat radiating off of him, making her cheeks flush at their close proximity. She thought she had the right to complain about how revealing her outfit was, but she stands corrected. Finnick is the closest anyone could be to naked. Only a small golden net strategically knotted at his groin for some form of modesty.

“Finnick…” Y/N trails off, continuing to remain uninterested as she continues petting the horse in front of her.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” he laughs breathily, still rolling the sugar cube between his fingers. His breath though gives off the sickly sweet aroma that he’s already helped himself to quite a few of those cubes before heading over to her. “Where I’d finally get to see you up close,” his eyes rake up and down her form hypnotically. She understands now why everyone has fallen for this man. He makes it hard not to. “I’ve been to a few of your shows, and I must say, you are just as mesmerizing up close.”

“You think so?” She comments dryly, finally giving him the time of day by turning to fully face him.

Finnick laughs again, “You’re a closed off little thing, aren’t you?” He once again licks his lips, sucking all the oxygen out of Y/N’s lungs. “I have to admit, this is a very different persona from what I’ve seen in your interviews.”

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your expectations,” she crosses her arms. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not caring. I mean, you would know all about differing personas wouldn’t you?” She quirks a challenging brow.

“Ooh, so she does have teeth,” Finnick nods, tilting his head as he analyzes her every move. “I like that.”

“Are you telling me you want me to bite you, Odair?” Y/N’s lip twitched upward slightly as she returns some of his flirty nature.

“I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed,” he fires back just as smoothly. He leans in closer to her, “But just a warning, I tend to bite back,” his smirk would be infuriating if Y/N wasn’t extremely attracted to him.

“I don’t know if you saw my Games, but I don’t mind playing rough,” she returns his smirk. “Despite the good girl reputation I’ve been bestowed, I’m not as innocent as people would believe.”

His eyes darken and his pupils dilate as his vision takes in her form. She clearly said something he likes. “I’m starting to believe that’s true.” He sticks his hand out towards her, “Sugar cube?” He offers.

Deciding to play into the light banter they have going on, Y/N leans forward, making direct eye contact with the sea foam green eyes in front of her. She gracefully wraps her lips around the sweet treat, letting it dissolve on her tongue before pulling away. Finnick can’t seem to look away. She’s truly is very different than the person he thought she was.

He raises his finger up, a small bit of sugar still left, “You missed a spot.”

Y/N knows better than to let his flirty behavior rattle her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she grins, leaning forward again as she grips his wrist gently. She brings his finger to her lips before licking the remaining sugar off. “Better?”

“Much,” his eyes flicker to her lips. “Y’know, it really is too bad this is our first conversation. I feel like we would have had a lot of… fun had we gotten to know each other sooner.”

“Who says we can’t have fun now?” Y/N counters, using her new height from the heels to her advantage. While Finnick still towers over her, she can meet his stature much easier with the stilts on her feet. Their noses are practically touching at this point. “The only question is if you’re willing to take the risk. Getting involved with a caged bird is risky business.”

“I have a feeling you’re not as caged as you pretend to be,” he whispers, using his pointer finger to tilt her chin up. “What do you say you tell me all those secrets you seem to keep locked away?”

“What do I get out of it?” Y/N challenges. “I have a lot of things to keep hidden, Odair. I can’t just go spilling everything to every pretty blonde who flashes a smile.”

“What other pretty blondes do you know?” He questions cockily.

“I mean, I have to say, the newbie is pretty easy on the eyes,” she nods over to Peeta who just emerged from the hall, a nervous look on his face. “I’m not easily persuaded, Finnick. If you want to know my secrets, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”

“I think you’ll find that I don’t give up easily,” he places his hand on her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “I’ll make you sing, Bird. Don’t you worry.”

“Oh, so we’re already at the nickname phase?” Y/N says teasingly. “Seems our relationship is progressing pretty quickly, Peacock.”

A genuine laugh leaves his lips, not the fake or seductive one he always uses. “Yeah, yeah, I guess it is.”

“You’re rather forward considering the fact we just met,” Y/N places her own hands on his chest, dusting off invisible particles from his tan skin.

“And you’re rather receptive,” he adds, enjoying the feeling of her delicate fingers on his skin.

There’s a certain electricity brewing between them. He’s always found her intriguing, like a beautiful jewel he can stare at but never touch. Hence why he can’t help but hold her closer to his body, to make sure that this is real. That he really is touching the woman he’s watched from afar for so long.

“I’ve waited to meet you in person for a long time, Bird,” Finnick’s voice is low, only loud enough for her to hear. From the outside, it would look like the Capitol Darling trying to intimidate the innocent Canary with his flirtatious tactics. No one would know just how much she’s relishing in the attention.

“Well, I suppose the question is now that you’ve met me… What do you plan on doing with me?” She somehow manages to push herself closer, her lips practically grazing his.

It takes every fiber of Finnick’s being not to close the distance, but he can’t. Not here. “Believe me, there are plenty of things I plan on doing to you when I have the chance,” he says huskily. “Unfortunately, I can’t act on those impulses now.”

“I’m sure we can work around that,” she whispers back. “Two a.m., my room. The guards take five minutes to change shifts. It’s a short window, so don’t be late.”

And with that, she backs up, batting her eyelashes if nothing happens. “It was nice chatting with you, Finnick.” She winks subtly at him before mounting her chariot, leaving the Prince of Panem speechless.

The one thing he does know though, is that he definitely will not be late.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

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

masterlist. | next part

Prologue.

Everything was perfect that day. Finnick was home for more than a week, something so rare that he cherished. It meant he didn’t have to endure the cold touches of Capitol citizens on his body, it meant he didn’t have to fake a smile, it meant he didn’t act like a show pony, it meant that he could relax, it meant he could be his true self. Most importantly, it meant he could spend time with you.

He spent his mornings swimming in the ocean with you, afternoons in the market with you, and nights cuddled up next to you as you read, a simple domestic routine.

You decided to sleep in that day. Finnick, still wanting to go swim, decided to go alone. While he felt the cool waves against his skin, he thought about what you two would do that day, what you guys would have for lunch and dinner, what you guys would buy at the market, what book you would read, simple thoughts.

Simple thoughts that he should’ve cherished for longer.

He returned from the beach around noon, he expected to find you in the living room baking, or on the back porch reading.

Instead, he found you in the living room, a look of shock and horror on your face.

"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.”

“Finnick.” you whispered to him.

He saw red. How could they do this? How could they take his and yours normalcy away? “They can’t do that.”

“Finnick…”

He leaps from the couch and shuts off the TV, “They can’t do that!” he shouts.

“Finnick please!” you say, your voice raised slightly.

“They can’t- they can’t make us go back there. They can’t. They already put us through so much- They can’t do this!” he says, shaking his head. “Finnick please sit back down.”

He paces the room, “He’s doing this to get rid of her. Because of her, we’re all going back to hell.”

He was referring to Katniss Everdeen. He knew you knew that, you both were in the Capitol when she and Peeta Mellark won. You both knew that stunt she pulled would cause trouble. But neither of you expected this.

“Finny…it’s not her fault. She’s one of us. It’s Snow, it’s his fault” you say as you cup his face.

He closes his eyes and puts his hands on yours. “I won’t let them take you away from me angel. I won’t.” “I know Finny…I know.”

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

It had been ten years since his name was in the mix to be reaped, only six since yours. There weren’t that many female victors for four, so chances of you being picked were high.

Finnick prayed that the odds would be slim to none.

As you both approached the town square, Finnick squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead.

“I love you angel. No matter what happens, remember that.”

“I love you too Finnick, always.”

He then reluctantly let go of your hand, dreading the fact that that exchange of love may have been your last.

You both stood on separate sides, Finnick in his white tunic, you in a simple baby blue dress.

“The male tribute for District Four….”

“Finnick Odair.”

Finnick held back his emotions and flashed a cocky grin for the cameras. He knew he would be reaped. He knew it from the beginning.

“And for the female tribute…”

“Annie Crest-“

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Finnick’s heart felt like stopped. He hoped he was hearing things. You couldn’t have volunteered. You couldn’t.

He slowly looked over and saw you whispering something to Annie before walking to the front.

No.

No no.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to go in.

“The male and female tributes of District Four ladies and gentlemen!”

Finnick quickly walked over to you and wrapped you in his arms, placing a kiss atop your head. “Angel…why…you weren’t supposed to..”

“We’re in this together Finny. You and me.”

He gazes into your eyes, your soft, loving eyes, pressing his forehead against yours and whispering ‘I love you’ to you as the cameras shuttered.

“You and me angel. Always.”

A/N: RAHHHH ITS OUT!!! omg i hope u guys liked this, be prepared for LOTS of angst and some cute moments between finnick and reader >:) ANYWAYSSSS again i hope u guys liked this and very special announcment

🥁🥁🥁🥁

WE ARE ALMOST AT 100 FOLLOWS!!! YAYYY

tysm for all the recent love u guys, actually. im so grateful for all of you <333 have an amazing day/afternoon/night

love u guys <3

[ilguna]

☼ safer with you pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick doesn't want you to join his alliance, forcing you to face the jungle alone, unaware of just how dangerous it can be. it doesn't help the careers are following you, and you can hear them.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, hallucinations, erm urine talk (you'll see what I mean), talk of killing, death mention (cannons)

wc; 4.8k

notes; so in part 1 i say that it's the second day of the games, but re-reading it, it made no sense so. i have decided that pt1 took place in day one of the arena and this fic will take place in day two because that makes the most sense lol. sorry for the inconsistencies.

part one

--

When you got reaped for the Quarter Quell about a week ago, you knew it would be hard coming back into the arena. You knew that memories you’ve spent years trying to drown would come flooding back, since there would be nothing to hold them at bay anymore. You knew you’d have to do things that would take forever to scrub from your consciousness again, if you even could this time. 

The only slightly comforting thought that came with it was the fact that you weren’t going to be alone. Not only would the victors around you be experiencing the same thing, but you would have at least one ally that you could count on to get you through the Games.

Well, it turns out that wasn’t the case at all.

You never thought you’d actually end up coming in alone, especially when it seemed like you had multiple possible alliances. The Careers wouldn’t have been so bad, if Brutus didn’t hate your guts so much. As soon as he got reaped, you had a feeling there would be an issue trying to ally yourself with them, which is why you made a couple low effort attempts to join them. 

Each time you were met with excuses on why they didn’t want you. First, it was because you were friends with Finnick. And when you told them that Finnick had barely talked to you the entire trip, it turned into the fact that you weren’t strong enough. After you scored a ten, you tried again and got met with the fact that they had already decided that they didn’t want any children with them.

Which was only frustrating because you’re not that much younger than Gloss and Cashmere, but you let it go for the sake of keeping the peace while you could. In the meantime, you kept trying to chip away at Finnick, hoping he’d eventually change his mind, too. 

He made it impossible, too. 

The only real conversation you had with him about an alliance was before the Tribute Parade, where you tried to suggest the two of you take over the arena, dominating it so you could make it home alive. He was extremely disinterested in that idea, flat out refusing to entertain it.

All bets were off after that. He wouldn’t talk to you about alliances. Every time you tried, he shut you down within the first couple of minutes, reminding you that his mind had been made up. If he wanted to be your ally, then he would’ve made a move already.

The final conversation you had about it was the night of the interviews. Right before you were going to be brought on stage, he pulled you aside to tell you that he was not going to back down from what he said. You were not invited into his alliance, and you never crossed their minds for a minute. You needed to let it go.

You hoped he was bluffing, which is why you spent so much time trying to find him in the arena yesterday, but he held his ground and made you leave.

You thought that at the very least, if you couldn’t have the Careers, or even Finnick, you’d be able to make friends out of the District Six morphlings, or Cecelia and Woof, or even Beetee and Wiress. But even they had their reasons why they couldn’t.

At every corner you turned, you were met with another wall closing in. No one wanted anything to do with you. Either because they couldn’t trust you due to your natural alliance to the Careers—a load of shit—or because they had their own thing going on that they couldn’t include you in because there were already too many people.

It’s left you on your own.

Which doesn’t bother you completely, you spent your last Games traveling the desert by yourself, searching for shelter that didn’t exist besides the Cornucopia. You know you can survive on your own, it’s the fact that you have to. That despite the many friendships you’ve tried to forge, not one of them wanted you. 

It’s a very lonely feeling that you have to battle alongside the paranoia. In all honesty, it made for a long and difficult night. Since there’s no one to watch over you, you couldn’t sleep because of the creeping feeling that someone could be nearby. And each time that feeling subsided, you were woken up by the arena in some way.

The lightning storm in the middle of the night was the first time you were jolted awake. You thought it wouldn’t last long, but when you realized that it wasn’t stopping, you were on edge. Not being able to hear the rustling of the jungle around you was off-putting. Anyone could sneak up on you if they wanted to.

You thought you were in the clear when the lightning finally stopped. The drowsiness began to win over, and then there was a cannon. And there would continue to be a cannon about every hour, every time you were about to sleep. After the third one, you gave up trying.

You’ve been up for a few hours now, sitting in the jungle, watching the moon sink into the trees on one side, while the sun rises on the other. It’s pretty early in the day, you’d say it can’t be any later than nine, judging by where the sun is. 

It’s slowly starting to get warmer in the arena as the morning goes on. It didn’t feel like the heat let off any last night, but it must’ve. If it’s going to be as hot as it was yesterday, you should probably get a move on. If you’re not dehydrated already, you will be by noon.

You’ve been sweating buckets, skin sticking to skin because of the humidity.

If it weren’t for the noises in the trees, you would’ve been traveling through the jungle an hour ago. You can barely hear it now, but before it was a low growling sound, as if there was an animal protecting its kill from another predator. 

For a while, you were afraid that you were the one being warned to back off, but every time you went to take a look around, you couldn’t find anything camouflaged in the greenery. Whatever it is, you figure it’s gone away now, to a safer place to eat what it’s caught.

A quiet sigh leaves you, you really don’t want to leave the shade, but you don’t have much of a choice. You pick your sword out of the grass and prop it up against the tree you were trying to sleep behind, before pulling yourself to your feet. 

You grab your sword, and then begin to wander down through the jungle toward the beach. Yesterday, when you were in the Cornucopia for the bloodbath, you weren’t able to grab anything besides a sword. You were hoping you’d be able to dig around in the boxes for a minute, but more districts know how to swim than you originally thought. 

No one’s going to be there now, since the center island is on display for everyone to see. The Careers usually like to use it as their homebase, but with twelve different ways to get in and out, it’d be too difficult to defend. All it would take is a decently-sized alliance to rush in from separate spokes, and the Careers would be gone in the blink of an eye.

So, they’ve got to be in the jungle somewhere, hunting down tributes. You’ll even bet that’s what they were doing last night, stumbling across sleepy victors and eliminating them without an ounce of hesitation. Three of your own, gone in the span of a few hours. You wonder if they even feel guilt. 

You don’t think you’ll actually be able to bring yourself to kill anyone in here, not even if they were threatening your life. All you’d be able to think about is the amount of memories you’ve made with the people in here, good or bad. Regardless if they’ve treated you terribly in recent years, or given you the best times of your life.

If any of them—Cashmere, Gloss or Brutus—end up winning, you don’t know how they’ll be able to live with themselves. Yes, they could come out with more fame and fortune than they’d ever need, but they’d never be able to escape the haunting feeling that they made a mistake killing all those people they once knew. 

And you know that you were thinking about dominating the arena with Finnick literally less than a week ago, but killing those around you never crossed your mind. You were more interested in the idea of resource guarding, especially the water source that the Gamemakers were going to provide.

Although, since traversing through the jungle, you’ve come to the conclusion that there is no main water source here. Well, besides the center lake, which doesn’t really count because it’s saltwater. And turning saltwater into drinking water is a long and tiring process that you have very little experience doing. 

That’s why you’re going to the Cornucopia. They have to have a sealed bottle of water or some sort of agent for making water drinkable hidden in one of those boxes. If you do find something like iodine, then it means there’s a pond or stream you just have to find. If not, then the Gamemakers have made the same grave mistake they made the last time you were in the arena.

You were in a desert, loose orange sand swirling the air occasionally due to a weak breeze. A blazing white sun beating down on you, no shade available as far as the eye could see. Besides the Cornucopia, of course, which had been taken over by the Careers, and they were refusing to step out of it.

You wandered for two and a half days through the sand, around the prickly cacti with the pretty pink flowers in bloom. You went as far as your legs could carry you, sweat soaking your shirt, your scalp wet to the touch. Your lips were dry and cracked, coated in tiny sand particles. 

You were delirious, dizzy, walking yourself in circles, mumbling nonsense. You eventually stopped to pee behind a cactus, not worried about decency because you knew the Capitol would cut away to give you some privacy, when you remembered what you were told by the experts in the Training Center.

In a lesson on purifying water and what to do if you couldn’t find any, it was strongly advised for you to avoid drinking your own urine in a desperate situation. Something about salt and how it could make the situation worse, but you really couldn’t wait any longer. You needed something to drink to wet your mouth and to get the tough feeling out of your throat.

As soon as that yellow bottle touched your lips, you were met with your first ever sponsor gift. Which was, of course, a giant jug of clean water. It was cold, condensation had begun to run down the side of the plastic as soon as it touched the ground. You knew you had to make it last, but you couldn’t help the first few gulps.

The main thing you’re grateful for is the fact that you never actually had to drink your own urine. The Gamemakers had come to their senses just in time to save you from doing that on live television. Either way, don’t be fooled, it’s not something you’re proud of almost doing.

It wasn’t until later, during your final interview in the Capitol with Caesar Flickerman, were you told that the original plan for the desert was to withhold water. It was an experiment to see how the tributes would react when they found out and how long it would take them to die. 

When the Gamemakers saw you on that screen, about to drink liquid that came out of your body, they cracked. They couldn’t let the Capitol citizens see it happen because it was too gross for them. Not the fact that it was inhumane and it shouldn’t have been the plan in the first place.

The only real good thing that came out of that whole situation was the fact that the Gamemakers made sure a water source was in every arena moving forward. The distance to travel to it didn’t really matter to them, as long as the tributes would have someplace to fill up their canteens, or whatever.

This is why you’re hopeful they have a stream of water somewhere, and it isn’t just the center lake.

Fortunately, it’s relatively easy to travel back down the slope of the jungle, then it is to hike it up. All you have to do is keep an eye on the ground and watch for any deceiving roots that appear like they’re not sticking out. Which is far and few between.

You like that it’s fairly quiet out here, it’s usually hard to find any sort of peace when you’re in an arena. The chirping of the birds and insects are so familiar and calming, that it would be impossible to miss the sound of the branch that just snapped behind you.

You hesitate on your next step, torn between coming to a complete stop to peer over your shoulder or running for your life. It could just be an animal in the jungle, so running would be a gross overreaction. On the same hand, it could be someone, anyone.

You raise your sword in front of you, tilting it to the side to use the reflection to see what it is that made the noise. This is a move you learned recently from a tribute who comes from one of the outskirt districts. You believe it was a boy from Nine, and instead of a sword, he had a scythe, or something along those lines. All you know is that it had a bigger blade.

Your heart leaps in your chest at the sight of Gloss attempting to creep up on you, entirely way too close for comfort. In a moment of fight or flight, your instincts choose the former, swinging the sword with a wide arc, gaining momentum to hit Gloss hard. He catches your weapon with his own, the sound of metal on metal clanging together fills the air.

That’s all it takes for the birds and insects in the trees to go silent.

You flip your blade flat against his, allowing you to place your free hand on your sword so you can shove him back to get him off of you. You try to be quick, slicing downward at his shins, but he’s prepared for this, blocking you.

If Gloss is going to predict every move you make, then you’re going to be in trouble trying to fight him off. Especially since you’ve never had the opportunity to watch him fight someone else without being interrupted. In the Training Center, he’d get sidetracked by Cashmere, or you’d get pulled away by one of the many training experts to polish off your experience.

It would be wiser to run than to engage in a fight. The problem that comes with this is he’s going to follow you, there’s no question about it. You could try to lose him in the jungle and escape to the beach, but he’ll find your tracks eventually. And this doesn’t even take Cashmere and Brutus into consideration. 

“What’s wrong?” Gloss asks, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. “Haven’t had to fight anyone just yet?”

“Nope.” You tell him, slowly backing away, being careful as to where you place your foot. “I’m sure you have, though.” 

He makes a face, tilting his head while shrugging his shoulders. As if that’s a given and didn’t need to be spoken aloud. “You know how it is.”

You shake your head at him, lips pursed. “I don’t. I don’t feel the need to seek out friends and kill them.”

“What about if they come at you with a weapon?” Gloss asks. “It’s self defense.”

“You’re the one following me.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Only recently. We saw you coming down the hill and thought you might be able to lead us to Katniss.” 

“You’re shit out of luck. I’m not in an alliance with them.”

Gloss gives you a tight lipped smile. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth.” You take another step back.

Gloss raises his sword, you make a stab at him, forcing him to jerk back. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Cashmere’s platinum blonde hair in the sun. She’s coming out from behind a tree, moving to join Gloss.

Where’s Brutus?

A creeping feeling spreads through your body. You spin around, paranoid he’s behind you, and find that your intuition is right. He’s less than five feet away, another minute and you’d be dead.

You can’t fight all three of them.

You don’t bother turning around to give a final jab to Gloss. Instead, you start running toward Brutus, sword raised in the air to bring down at him. He’s forced to decide whether or not he can take the hit, and just before you swing, he jerks out of the way.

The sword lowers to your side as you barrel down the jungle slope, heading for the beach. If you’re going to fight them, it’s going to be on a level playing field where the sand slows all four of you down. Otherwise, you might as well just lay down and let them kill you. 

The jungle seems to change as you go. It’s not really noticeable at first, since the trees and ferns turn into a blurry mess of brown and green. But then there’s mixes of dark grey and white that make your pace slow.

You turn to look over your shoulder, finding your Career friends are still coming your way, carelessly trampling through the spongy dirt. You watch as Gloss’s foot gets caught in a root, and in return, a flurry of arrows come raining down on them.

You watch as they duck in different directions, getting stuck with several arrows in their arms, legs and backs. As they take a moment to pull them out of their bodies, you eye the trees above, curious on where they had come from. They’re going to think it was Katniss, but there’s no way she can shoot twenty arrows at the same time.

You turn around, going back to running, trying to lose them while you can. You keep a careful eye on the ground, afraid of what other possibilities the jungle holds. All he did was trip over a root from one of the many trees, could it really have triggered an attack like that?

You don’t want to find out. 

It seems like Gloss, Cashmere and Brutus don’t want to either. They’re much more cautious now, but they’re still moving quicker than you are. Your efforts pay off, though, because you spot several areas of the ground where it’s too flat and looks a little too jungle-y. 

Which sounds insane in your head, but when you stab at the area as you pass, the ground falls in to reveal pointed wood spikes at the bottom of a ten foot hole. You can feel your stomach drop, feet slowing even more. 

You don’t remember all of this last night. It was a regular jungle when you were heading to the top. You tripped over several roots last night and never received a reaction like Gloss did. And there was nothing wrong with the ground, either.

The beach can’t be that much further, all you have to do is make it to the sand and then everything will be fine again. Well, that is until you get attacked by the Careers, but you can’t afford to worry about them until then. You need to keep heading forward.

As you continue, you try to take light steps, tiptoeing around the roots, stabbing at the ground, keeping an eye on the trees. It helps that they trigger several of the traps behind you, slowing them down, giving you more time to plan out your steps.

But all it takes is one misstep on your part for you to fall victim to the hidden terrors of this part of the jungle. You stomp on a rock, thinking nothing of it, until you feel a sharp pain on the back of your left arm. You stumble a step or two, instantly feeling lightheaded.

You reach over, hand securing around the foreign object, pulling it out of your body. You hold it in front of you, staring down at your hand that seems to elongate and shrink, making it hard for you to see what it is that punctured you. You squint, rolling it over in your hand, watching it multiply.

Something is wrong here.

You bring it closer to your face, accidentally bumping it into your nose. Reality seems to straighten after that, allowing you enough time to see that it’s a dart, and the needle is coated in a dark purple substance. You wipe it with your finger, raising it to your nose to smell.

It hits your nose with a sting, your face puckers as you jerk your head back. You know that smell. It’s tracker jacker venom. It’s so potent and sour. It’s one of those smells you can’t forget about, like the smell of a rotting body.

You look up, the jungle’s color has become more vibrant—alive. You shoot a look over your shoulder to find that Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus are still running at you, their bodies changing shapes, the ground moving as if there’s water beneath. The sight makes you nauseous, you swallow back the vomit and throw the dart in their direction.

When you go back to running for your life, it’s near impossible to keep alert. Either you watch the ground and avoid the traps, or you observe the jungle and find animals peeking out behind trees, snarling at you. 

You’re not sure how long this goes on for, where you trigger traps and narrowly avoid the consequence or end up getting stabbed by an arrow. All you know is that at some point, Cashmere gets caught in a net and she gets strung up in the air. It forces Gloss and Brutus to quit chasing after you to help her down.

You go as far as your legs will carry you, before the venom in your system becomes too much to bear. You lay down in a small patch of dirt that you come across, perfect hidden behind a tree and covered by long fern leaves. You tuck your sword beneath the plants, but keep it in arms reach in case you need to use it.

The word has begun to spin, the scenery around you changing into one more familiar, like the desert you escaped a couple years ago. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut, hoping that the venom will exit your system quickly.

When you wake, the jungle looks just the same as it did before you slipped into the hallucinations. The skin on your cheeks feel sensitive and raw, and your mouth is drier than it had been this morning. You sit up, taking a moment to gather yourself before you get to your feet.

Your legs feel like jelly, you use a tree to hold yourself upright. When they feel more solidified, you shuffle your way out from behind the tree, and find yourself just a couple of steps away from the beach.

You let out a sigh of relief, more than ready to leave the jungle for the time being, even if that means you’ll be put out in the open. You stop in the sand, squinting through the brightness of the sun to see where you are and figure out what time it is.

It looks like you’re on the left side of the Cornucopia, somewhat behind it. You can’t see the mouth from where you are, so if you still want to go there, you’d need to travel through the treeline of the jungle to get there. Or you could take the gamble and wander up. 

At this point, you don’t really care if anyone’s there. 

It’s late afternoon, you can tell by the sun in the sky. If you’re taking bets, you’d say that no one would be stupid enough to be at the Cornucopia right now. Maybe at night, but not in broad daylight, unless there’s a group there.

Which should leave you worried about the Careers, but it’s been hours since you saw them in the jungle. You’re not sure if they made it out alive, and you honestly don’t really care, either. You do know that they were injured because of the traps, so you’d say they won’t make another big move for a while unless it’s urgent.

You step out of the jungle fully, heading for the nearest spoke that’ll lead straight to the center island where the Cornucopia is. You’ll take your chances, just this once. You need water, and if you’re not going to get sponsored, then you need to find it yourself.

You’re not even halfway there when a face appears around the side of the Cornucopia, just briefly surveying the area. You come to a stop where you are on the rock, watching as the person decides to come out to see who you are. 

You can tell who it is almost immediately. How could you miss him? His sun kissed skin, the bronze hair, the silver trident in his hand. It’s Finnick, of course. And because of the conversation you had yesterday, you already know that he’s going to turn you away.

“I need water.” You tell him, not waiting for him to speak first. “If you have a problem with that, then you can leave.”

“There’s no water here.” He tells you, shaking his head. “We’ve been through the boxes.”

“I would like to look for myself.” You continue forward.

“You can’t come over here, (Y/n).”

“I can. If that makes you and your allies uncomfortable, then there’s eleven different directions for you all to go.” Your eyes are locked with his. “I need supplies. You’ve had your time here, now it’s my turn.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care to find out anymore.” You stop in front of him. “You can’t turn me away, I won’t let it happen. So, you need to figure your shit out quickly.”

Finnick has his lips pressed together, looking over your face. “What happened to you?”

“Exactly what I told you, yesterday.” You say slowly. “They found me, Finnick. And if it weren’t for a net in the jungle, I’d be dead.”

“Who found you?”

“Who do you think?” You snap. 

The two of you stand in a tense silence for a minute, thinking about the different ways you can handle this. Finnick must not think you’re worth the fight, though, because he backs away.

“Just keep quiet and follow my lead.” Finnick looks at the Cornucopia. “Like I said, the alliance is—”

“I don’t want to be part of your playdate.” You cut him off. “I’m over it. I’ll take care of myself.”

He doesn’t like that response, you can tell by the way he sighs. “You’re going to change your mind when you get around the corner.”

“We’ll see.” You wave him off.

Finnick leads the way, “No need to panic, it’s just (Y/n).” He warns.

You step around the Cornucopia, eyes searching the group that he’s managed to gather. Your face twists at the sight of the odd combination of Katniss, Peeta, Beetee and Johanna.

Johanna makes a retching sound, “What is she doing here?”

“Water.” You tell her plainly.

“Well, you’re not going to find any.” She says, head bobbing.

“We’ll see.”

There’s a moment of silence as you walk into the Cornucopia, flipping lids open, digging through boxes. You find one protein bar at the bottom of a box, and rip the wrapper open with your teeth, eating it as you continue.

“What’s that welt on the back of your arm?” Finnick asks.

“Dart.” You murmur. “Tracker jacker venom.”

A couple more minutes pass before someone clears their throat. “I can get you water.” You turn to see who it is, and it’s Katniss. She holds up a metal object that’s tied to her belt with a vine. “It’s a spile.”

You stand up. “How?”

“The trees. We just have to find a good one that’ll give us a steady stream.”

You look over at Finnick, he’s nodding his head.

“What do you want in return?” You ask.

Katniss lets the spile fall. “Nothing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

[vitaminkyeom]

"...May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor..."

Based on the Catching Fire collab;

↬ District One's Choi Seungcheol in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Eros, @eternallytxt

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Two's Yoon Jeonghan in ❝ - ❞

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Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || V, @hannieween

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Three's Hong Joshua in ❝ - ❞

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Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Sarah, @gyu-effect

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Four's Wen Junhui in ❝ - ❞

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Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || TBA

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Five's Kwon Soonyoung in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || TBA

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Six's Jeon Wonwoo in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR ||

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Seven's Lee Jihoon in ❝ If The World Ends, We Go Together ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Lidia, @sarcasticsweetlara

╼ PAIRING || Hunger Games au! District 7 Rebel! Jihoon x Female District 7 Rebel! Reader

╼ SUMMARY ||  Jihoon and you knew how to survive together, it was simple and steadfast, all throughout the years since your childhood to the harvest of tributes to the beginning of the Rebellion. You meant to keep it that way, even if it meant ignoring your feelings, but how long can it last as the dangers around you make you question how you could ever live without Jihoon?

╼ WARNINGS || Suspense, friends to lovers, both Jihoon and Reader think being in a relationship will put them in danger. Fluff. Reader is taller than Jihoon. Reader has aphasia (mutism due to damage to the brain language centers) and Jihoon and her communicate mostly through sign language. Jihoon with an axe; Bisexual! reader (if you are biphobic then dni), Reader with dark skin, appearances of Park Sunyoung of F(x) and Seokmin, Minghao and Seungkwan of SVT. Blood, non graphic flashback of a beating as a child, fights with guns and knives, hunting, Jihoon and reader hunt a bear together; burnings, almost drowning, and not accurate mention of CPR.

╼ WORD COUNT || 11,251

↬ District Eight's Xu Minghao in ❝ - ❞

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Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Kimchi, @planetkiimchi

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Nine's Kim Mingyu in ❝ When Strawberries Bloom ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Lola, @monamipencil

╼ PAIRING || Kim Mingyu x Reader

╼ GENRES || hunger games! au, victor! mingyu, f! reader, pseudo major character death, hints of trauma, mingyu is a blink away from alcohol poisoning, capitol shenanigans, this is set in the period of second rebellion, slow burn, jealousy, both of them are in denial, fight scenes, friends to lovers (?) to strangers to rivals (it’s one sided??) to ???, angst, fluff, crack, smut. heavy fruit metaphor, yearning, pining, happy ending.

╼ SUMMARY || mingyu is content with his life in the capitol as a victor, although he’s haunted by the images of the nightmare he lived ten years ago. but all that comes to an abrupt stop, when he discovers that you—his greatest demise had been alive all this time.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Ten's Lee Seokmin in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Hafs, @nonononranghaee

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Eleven's Boo Seungkwan in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Ni, @wonumatics

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Twelve's Choi Hansol in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Courtney, @casuallyimagining

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ District Thirteen's Lee Chan in ❝ - ❞

Click here to read the pre-interview.

Click here to read the full story.

╼ MENTOR || Yuki, @hisnowbie2

╼ PAIRING || TBA

╼ GENRES || TBA

╼ SUMMARY ||  TBA

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

Let the seventeenth Hunger Games begin!

[amber-laughs]

this might not be fair but can i say i’m not really a fan of the “victors found family” trope bc they don’t really seem to all like each other.

in fics, and it’s no hate bc everybody should play around with canon however they want i’m just venting because i've only been in the fandom like a week and a half, people seem to really enjoy the idea that the victors who’ve been sex trafficked are really close and look out for each other, usually Cashmere, Gloss and Finnick. but those three specifically are trying to kill each other pretty quick in the Quell and Finnick specifically tells Katniss not to trust them and i personally think that makes a lot more sense if we realistically look at their situation. groomers and predators will always try to isolate their victims and Snow especially uses this tactic with his Victors.

he takes out their families and makes them live in isolated neighborhoods. It wouldn’t shock me if there was a lot of drama, grudges and bad blood within the victors/mentors circle because that’s how Snow operates. It’s pretty implied that Johanna was supposed to be trafficked but wouldn’t comply and that’s how her family died, that also perfectly coincides with she and Finnick maintaining a close relationship. If the sex trafficking ring is purposefully being pit against each other, say Gloss is getting extra work and Snow lies and says it’s bc Finnick has to be home to take care of Annie or Enobaria is getting easier jobs than Cashmere and Snow lies and says it’s bc Enobaria specifically asked to switch some with Cash now he’s purposefully and very easily (bc they’re legit teenagers at first) creating bad blood and distrust between them just like Katniss says he does with people living in districts (ie Gale blaming Madge for not having her name in extra times bc she doesn’t need tesserae) it would be almost impossible for a healthy friendship to develop and evolve while still in the middle of it.

“Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine.” Hunger Games - Chapter 1

I sent an obnoxiously long ask to someone's inbox about the Capitol specifically grooming Careers to be government prostitutes (shout out to them for putting up with it and having a great answer) and I think that its something that once again points to purposefully causing descent within the Victor's circle. if you're twelve years old and you live in one of the nicer districts (One, Two and Four) and you're hearing horror stories about Ten, Eleven, Twelve it would make a lot of sense if an adult authority figure came up to you and said you're not like them, you're better. thats why we let you guys train and teach you to survive in the games because we want you to win. you're gonna win, you have nothing to fear you should sign up. thats really easy to then flip to hey so that fancy academy you trained in, those fancy clothes you wore in the parade, the makeup we put on you for the interview, the sponsor gifts you got in the arena, that was us. we did that for you. now you have to do something for us. and because they've spent their whole lives being groomed to fight to the death in an arena all in the name of money, power, glory why should this be any different? You're the Victor, the Capitol loves you, they wanna meet you, they wanna be with you and like everything Snow should benefit so he's gonna get the money and these kids think it's an honor to be loved by the Capitol but then once they realize what's actually happening and try to back out its hey so you're actually gonna do this or i'm gonna kill your whole family and so

"Don't trust One and Two" Finnick says Catching Fire - Chapter 19

it's probably not that they oh so enjoy being sex trafficked, or so love life under the Capitol but more probably that they just don't trust the rebels. and the rebels don't trust them. they've been forced give their bodies away for over a decade to keep their families alive while (in their eyes) Haymitch is an alcoholic who can't keep it together. he's not their lovable drunk uncle who holds their hand after a rough night. why should they have any faith in him to put together a winning plan?

“Oh, no. I was the example. The person to hold up to the young Finnicks and Johannas and Cashmeres. Of what could happen to a victor who caused problems,” says Haymitch Mockingjay - Chapter 12

Snow knows Haymitch is trouble so he makes sure all the victors know he already lost. his family is dead, his lover is dead and now he wastes his days drinking himself to death. he's a loser and not to be allied with. they're all still playing the game and the capitol is the career pack. everybody wants to keep themselves and their families alive and Snow has the most resources, the better plan and the odds are in his favor.

[purriteen]

Ad victor spolia, chapter three

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author's note: this is where it gets really toxic, so be prepared please this is so OOC I’m ashamed

word count: 2,678

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Perhaps it was about image after all. Your brother had invited guests to what you had assumed was a private dinner, just the two of you. You recognized Strabo Plinth and his wife sitting at his right, but he’d saved you a seat next to him. Deep down you had hoped that their spending time together was just some phoney traumabond, after all Coryo’s classmate and fellow peacekeeper - their son - had been executed for treason when they were both serving together out in twelve, and the boy didn’t seem to have a lot of friends, at all. You knew why, of course. He was district. You still remembered the gossip surrounding him when you had first started middle school. He was in the same class as your brother, and the year after that they both went on to the Academy. Even kids your age were talking bad about him behind his back.

You gritted your teeth as you walked over to him, feigning a smile when he pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit. You obliged. Only now did you get a good look at the people sitting around the table. You only recognized a handful, as some of the other high-up politicians working alongside your brother and an old classmate of his. Mrs Plinth gave you a warm smile, pointing towards a couple steaks neatly arranged on a platter not far from where you were sitting and saying something you couldn’t quite make out. You smiled and nodded, leaning over to grab the smallest piece you could find. 

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. It felt like he was testing you - first he neglected to tell you about whatever this was, and now he wanted to see how you’d react. If you’d finally learned to think quickly on your feet. If your presence could actually be useful in these events. Even the gown felt like a test - presumably to figure out if you’d look good on his arm. Like he was trying you on, rather than having you try the dress on.

All that dining etiquette Coriolanus had forced you to learn when you were barely ten years old still stuck with you. That was the first time you got a good glimpse of your father in him. His impatience, the complete lack of compassion, the way he smacked your wrists for getting something wrong. At that point Tigris had intervened, but Grandma’am had simply shrugged it off and told some anecdote starting with ‘back in my day’.

You refused to even acknowledge his presence. You hadn’t been prepared for this, you knew you were still too vulnerable. Maybe that’s why he did it; if you broke down or embarrassed him in front of other people again, he’d have all the more reason to isolate you and keep building off of the story of his mentally distraught little sister. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

You gloated in the fact that his guests seemed to take more of an interest in you than Coriolanus for a brief moment. An older woman you faintly recognised remarked on how much you’d grown since she last saw you. Another jokingly pointed out how you’d been the one to inherit your mother’s good looks. A pleasant laughter erupted from right next to you at this, but you could sense the tension in your brother’s voice. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest when you replied, “Oh, but Coriolanus inherited one thing I didn’t, our father’s talent for scheming.” You meant it as a half-joke, but you could tell by the subtle tightening in his jaw that Coriolanus wasn’t pleased. Meanwhile it took the other guests a second to determine that it was okay to laugh. 

It was laughable how shallow they all were, how they so loyally danced around on the minefield that was their president’s ego, all for just a glimpse of power. 

By the time dessert was served you were deep in conversation with the man sitting on your left, feigning interest in his latest endeavours within finance as he tried to work his charms on you. You were surprised at first, but you supposed it made sense that an up and coming young weasel businessman would try and use you and your brother’s position to better his own standing. 

You figured you could always use the excuse of common courtesy if Coriolanus decided to confront you about it afterwards. You’d never admit it, but you relished in the knowledge that you were getting on his nerves, and that you still managed to be subtle enough for him to not intervene. You reckoned that you were playing your cards well.

Until the guests started to leave one by one. Eventually you had to say goodbye to the young man who you’d learned was named Salus Bellthorn - judging by his last name he wasn’t anyone important, likely the son of one of your brother’s colleagues or similar - and one of your brother’s old classmates, who was surprisingly well-rounded.

Finally, it was just you, Coriolanus and the Plinths. You tried to remain polite, despite the distaste you felt for them for splitting up your family and humiliating Grandma’am. All you could think about was how she had died thinking her grandson had ditched her for a couple of greedy district folk. Soon enough he took notice of your suddenly uptight demeanour, making up some half-assed excuse about fatigue.

You didn’t like the thought of potentially allowing your reputation to become collateral damage, but you were pleased at the thought of forcing Coryo to clean up after you. He was always excellent at damage control. So it wasn’t surprising when he escorted the two of them to the front door to say goodbye, leaving you behind in the dining room with the remaining servants.

By the time he returned, all of that charm and pleasantry had melted right off of him. He marched right over to you, gripping your arm hard enough to bruise. You winced in pain, and he seemed to realise the two of you were still not alone in the room. He glared down at you as he tugged on your wrist, forcing you to stand up. He visibly cooled down, taking on his usual stoic expression, but you knew better than to think he was calm. “Helvius, clear the table and tell the kitchen staff they’re done for tonight.”

He didn’t even give his chief of staff the chance to reply before practically dragging you back towards the grand staircase, causing you to nearly trip on the fabric of your own dress as he rushed upstairs. Neither of you uttered a single word the entire way back to your room.

When you finally got there, he let go of his calm facade again, showing you the Coriolanus you’d grown to hate. He slammed the door behind you, each of your wrists in one of his pale hands as he held you in place. His eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of weakness, but you refused to allow him the pleasure of seeing you break again. 

“Did you enjoy your dinner party, Coriolanus?” You finally inquired, after what felt like hours of glaring at each other in silence. Your voice was dripping with venom as you spoke, taunting him. You watched as anger flashed in his eyes, before he took a deep breath. You liked knowing that he needed to put effort into keeping his cool because of you, despite the fear you felt in this situation. It took you until now to realise how hard your heart was pounding, but you figured you had nothing left to lose.

Just when you thought he’d calmed down, he shoved you down onto the floor, catching you off guard. You grimaced as you crawled back and away from him, all the way until your back hit the side of your bed. He followed, crouching down in front of you and once again trapping you beneath him. He leaned closer, as close as possible with your knees protectively curled up to your chest.

“You find it funny, don’t you?” He spat as he grabbed your chin, pressed between his pointer and his thumb. “Do you enjoy ruining your own future, my darling sister?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone deceptively gentle. “Every time you try to cause a scene in front of me my patience wears thinner, Hersilia. Right now? It is holding on by a thread.” You swallowed hard, struggling to keep up the stone cold, unbothered look on your face.

“Is this the future you want for yourself? You’re here for your own good, but don’t forget. I don’t need a reason to punish you.” He sounded harsher this time. Less filtered. “Even the districts think you’re sick, isn’t that amusing? No matter how much they despise me for simply keeping them in check, they’re no better than your friends. Happy to turn on you on account of gossip and hearsay alone.” He dryly chuckled, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Do you understand the gravity of your predicament yet?” You shiver, the back of his knuckle gently tracing down the exposed skin of your neck, until he gets to the point where it meets your shoulder. His hand slowly, delicately coils around your neck. Your heart nearly stops, and you look up at him. His eyes immediately meet yours, relishing in the fear he can sense in your gaze. Eyeing you like a predator inspecting its next meal.

“Why don’t you just poison me, Coryo? You think I’m a threat, or at best a burden. So why do you not just make me go away? We both know you have the means to!” You whisper, but it comes out more as a hiss, and even then he can still hear the resentment in your voice. You stay like that for a couple of minutes, eyes boring into each other, quiet enough to hear a needle drop. His hands stay right where they are, holding you in place and only threatening to choke, enough to keep you on edge. Your cheeks are burning up, betraying your attempts to show him no weakness.

He finally sighs and gets back up on his feet. He doesn’t move though, gesturing for you to get up as well. “I do not hate you. I do not wish to see you dead. You on the other hand,” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “You don’t seem to feel the same way. You keep pushing me away, after everything I’ve done for you.” He reaches out his hand, and you reluctantly place your own in his and allow him to pull you back up.

“Tell me, dove. Do you even realise how much I’ve sacrificed for you?” He waits for a second as if expecting an answer to his clearly rhetorical question, before continuing. “When you were little, Grandma’am couldn’t even look at you. Not after what happened to our father, she didn’t want to get attached. And Tigris, she tried, but when you got sick, she started to act like you were already dead. I stole food for you, slept next to you by the fireplace for a week until you started to get better. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” He continued, a vulnerability, gentleness, in his voice that you couldn’t remember hearing from him ever before. It sickened you as much as it tugged on your heartstrings.

“Everything I’ve done I’ve done to protect you. You’re a direct target for my opponents, and likely even common men. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, dove,” He caresses your cheek, your head nearly spinning as you try and process all of this. “Ever since I returned almost five years ago now, you’ve been so distant, so cold. I was too busy trying to secure our finances to see that you were slipping away from me.” You could hear the trembling in his voice, see the bottled up desperation in his eyes.

“I just want to keep you safe, Silia. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Now he’s whispering directly into your ear, the hand previously wrapped around your neck now gently caressing your shoulder. “I won’t lose you like I did mom and dad, like I did Grandma’am. I regret so much that I didn’t try harder to be there for you, even when Tigris shut me out,” He shakily exhales, his words making you finally snap out of it. 

Your hands press against his chest, firmly pushing him away. You’re awestruck by the dishevelled, vulnerable look on his face at first. “What, what do you mean, Tigris shut you out?” He runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t you remember how cold she was after I returned? She didn’t even want me to be alone with you, you know. I figured she would’ve told you something, perhaps warned you to stay away from me. God, she was always envious, Silia, envious because she’ll never experience what we have, envious because she’s an only child. Can’t you see that?”

Your brows furrow, sitting down on the bed as you try to take a moment to think this through. But he immediately descends upon you again, crouching down once more and holding your bare, shaking hands in his as he attempts to make eye contact. “Don’t be like that, Hersilia. Don’t shut me out again. You know I’m the only one around here who truly cares about you. Why else would Tigris have abandoned you? Why else would your friends be so easy to bribe into leaving you? Why else,” 

He pauses, gently grabbing your chin and tilting it to make you look him in the eye, “Would I keep you here, as close to me as possible, when I could’ve sent you off to a mental institution, tried to do away with you? You mean so much to me, Silia. I just want to keep you safe. You won’t ever have to worry about going hungry again, about being kicked out on the street, about being found out as a fraud and humiliated by your peers. You have to understand, I was so afraid that you would break, that I’d lose you too. I truly believed that the only way to keep you safe was this.” He just keeps going, overwhelming you with all these new revelations. 

“Please. Coryo,” You meekly whisper out, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I need time to think, you’re, you’re confusing me so much and I don’t know what to feel,” You babble on, tears turning into sobs that wrack through your small frame. “You scare me, Coryo, your mood swings, this constant game of push and pull, it scares me,” You hiccup, and before you know it he’s got his arms wrapped around you, pressing your face into his chest as he strokes your hair, hushing you. 

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay, you’re gonna be just fine. Won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He kisses the top of your head, and you have no choice but to accept his shallow attempts at comforting you. You realise that he thinks that he’s got you now, that you believe him. You’re not sure if you do or if you’re still strong enough to resist him, but in this moment all you can do is fall apart over and over again in his arms, allowing yourself to forget for a moment why you only have him left to turn to in the first place.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is overcome by a sick sense of satisfaction as you unravel right in front of him. He’s far past the point of feeling guilty now, no. He’s certain he can shape you into exactly what he wants in time, but he hasn’t forgotten how you tried to embarrass him tonight.

He’ll make sure you won’t forget it, too.

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Shadowhunters

Enthrallment by smilebackwards

It does look a little bad, Parmela thinks, looking at it from outside. As more specialists had been called in for consultation, they’d decamped to one of the larger conference rooms—eschewing attendance at A, B, AB, & O: The Impact of Blood Type on Non Subject Specific Blood Magic, because this was vastly more interesting and potentially important—and there are a round dozen high-level warlocks clustered around Alec, poking at him with magic.

Or: Alec attends the Magical Inventions and Advances convention in hopes of recruiting warlocks for another Downworld Cabinet. The warlocks, however, are more interested—and concerned—by the blue magical aura following Alec around.

DC

temporal fraternity by envysparkler

Damian clears his throat. “I require your assistance.”

The words come out easier with the benefit of practice and the knowledge that no one will remember them tomorrow. Today. Tomorrow-today.

The Umbrella Academy

cut me open and i still bleed red by aletterinthenameofsanity

Part 1 of the odds were never in our favor

Ben knows his fellow mentors pretty well, for how long he's spent here, behind the screens of the Games, watching as his tributes die.

Allison, from District One, has a way with the sponsors. Just a word placed here or there, stealthily dropped into conversation, and she can get her tributes the shit they need.

In his time as a Mentor, Klaus has developed a habit of drinking to get through the Games, and through the rest of his life, really- anything to avoid the truth of what's happening, the ghosts of the children he and Ben have sent to their deaths.

Very few people remember what Five’s name was before the Games. Caesar Flickerman and the Gamemakers nicknamed him that when he took out the entire Career Pack on his second day in the Arena.

Vanya’s the newest Mentor, the victor of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games.

Diego’s one of Ben’s oldest not-quite friends. A Victor from District Ten, he’d gone into the Games knowing how to kill an animal.

All the other Mentors Ben knows try never to get attached. Luther, on the other hand, doesn't forget a single name.

(A story of seven victors of the Hunger Games and the lives they live as Mentors.)

Danny Phantom

The Promised Land by redrobin1989

Danny Fenton has been running for years, from his abusive parents, from Vlad's experiments, from his freakish powers. He expected to be running his whole life until he found his way to a small town that felt like the home he'd never had.

M!ik

Study Dates Are Not Real Dates by StormySteady

A very important exam is coming up, and Asmodeus is trying his hardest to get Iruma and Clara to study for it. But his soulmates have other ideas.

Star Wars

Starlight, In All Its Forms by Soap_And_Lye

When Luke was eight, he was taken from his home on Tatooine and delivered into the hands of the emperor and his right hand.

When Luke was sixteen, he overheard the emperor's plans to steal a tiny Force sensitive child and saves him first, before being caught and dragged back to his masters' keeping.

When Luke was eighteen, he finds that same child on Gideon's cruiser, and spares both him and his family, including a silver clad Mandalorian.

And when Luke was twenty-four, he is captured by the Rebellion (captured or did he just let it happen? Really up for debate) and secretly sent as a prisoner to Mandalore, where Mand'alor Din Djarin rebuilds his planet and raises his son.

And the rest was history. Or the beginning.

Clone Wars

will you be an anarchist with me? by a_alene

Once the Kenobi floodgates are opened, they cannot be closed. Cody has apparently been keeping an itemized list of disagreements, and he is determined to tell Rex each and every one of them.

Kenobi refuses to listen to Cody’s input. Kenobi throws himself into battle with no regard for previously established battle plans. Kenobi uses the Force so recklessly and obviously that every undercover assignment is blown within the first few minutes. Kenobi is a hypocrite who berates Cody for sidestepping protocol, but flouts it himself at every opportunity.

CT-7567: bet you wish you had skywalker now

CC-2224: I wish for nothing but the cold embrace of space

Right. And he says Kenobi’s dramatic.

(Marshal Commander Cody and High General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the 212th cannot stand each other. Rex doesn't know why this is his problem.)

poetry is what you find (in the dirt in the corner) by fivecenturiesverse

(In which Cody becomes an anonymous poet after the war and his brothers find out.)

Rex launches forwards immediately and so does Bly, because he can admit to himself that he likes gifts. He likes gifts a whole lot more than Cody and Wolffe, anyway, who both act like martyrs who don’t need any material love. “Poetry, vod?” Bly asks, incredulous. “Cody’s right, you are going soft.”

“It’s by a clone,” Fox says, defensively, “it’s quite good, actually. For poetry. It made Sergeant Hound cry at the service.

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[in our next life || EPILOGUE]𓆪—

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - that I know of, there is none! maybe besides cursing(?) but it's pure fluff, just let me know if you think i should add anything!

Ten years later…

This would be the second rope being tied around your wrist, to the same man. Things were different now; the games were over, Finnick built you that house on the river bank, and you had a son this time too.

Your dress was similar to the one you had before, especially because Cinna designed this one too, but this time, it was much smaller than the ballgown you had before. It was still poofy, yes, but this time it was lined with pearls taken from your first dress in strands of gold. Your hair was pulled into your preferred style, a flower crown of white camellias, pearls stranded in your hair as well.

You probably loved this more than your first outfit, a white bouquet in your hands as well. You were going to cry even more this time, you were sure of it. When someone knocks, you turn with a quick confirmation for them to come in, Katniss peeking her head inside. “Someone wants to see you…”

You giggled as your son ran in, gasping loudly. “Momma, you look so pweety!”

You laughed at his childish dialect, smoothing down the front of your dress. “Yeah? You think papa will like it?”

He nods his head vigorously. “Yeah! And if he doesn’t, he’s crazy!”

You giggled, offering your empty hand. “Wanna walk mommy down the aisle?”

He continues to nod, running over. “Momma, I’m glad you’re getting remarried. That bracelet is dirty.”

You laughed, nodding with him. “Is it baby? Well good thing papa’s getting me another one, right?”

“Yeah!”

You named your son Atlas, and for heaven's sake, he came out exactly like Finnick. Golden hair and bright sea blue eyes, a perfect smile and the freckles you loved since you were a child.

He takes your hand, leading you out the room as Katniss follows behind. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

You smiled back at her, giggling. “Thank you, Katniss.”

You walked out the back door, stepping down the steps of the large wrap around porch Finnick had built himself. The second you stepped into the meadow of different kinds of wildflowers, all of the memories came flooding back.

“Finnick, we’re not supposed to be here!”

You whisper yelled at him as he dragged you to the edge of District 4, laughing.

“So? Come on, we’re almost there!” He pulls you harder, groaning. “Y/N, don’t be a scaredy-cat!”

You groaned. “My mother will kill me.”

He snorts. “Fuck your mother.”

You gasped, slapping his bicep before he sharply tugs you forward, a gasp falling from your lips before you screamed out as you both began rolling down the hill. His hand keeps your face in his neck as he laughs, your arms wrapping around him as his other hand holds your side.

You finally get to the bottom, Finnick laughing like the funniest thing in the world just happened as you sit on his chest, looking down at your grass stained dress. The Reaping would happen in a few days, and your mother had just bought you this dress. She would kill you if you came home like this.

“Finnick, my dress is all dirty!” You whine as he sits up.

“You’re so over dramatic, darling. We can clean it when we get back, look at all the flowers,” he says, smiling as he picks one and puts it behind your ear. “I know they’re your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you picked one and tucked it behind his ear. “My favorite wildflower, Finnick. Not my favorite in general.”

He laughed, clearing his throat. “My apologies, your majesty, your favorite wildflower. Is there any way you could possibly forgive me?”

You giggle, humming. “I mean… I guess so,” you say, making him grin before you boop his nose. “But it’s gonna cost you.”

He starts to blush, but hums. “Oh yeah? What?”

You purse your lips, letting out a soft ‘hmph’ as you fix yourself on Finnick’s lap. “Well, if I’m your highness, that means I’m queen, right?”

He purses his lips in response, nodding. “Yes, it does.”

“Well then, you can be my knight. To protect me and stay with me for the rest of my life. Sounds good?”

He smiled widely, nodding. “Sounds good. I’ll be your knight, Y/N?”

You put up your hand, offering your pinky. “Promise?”

He smiled, nodding as he wrapped his pinky around yours before pushing his hand up. “Lock it.”

You do, watching as he kissed your overlapping thumbs before doing the same. “You can’t break it now, Finnick!”

He nods before smirking. “Y’know, we just shared saliva.”

Your brow ruffled. “No we didn’t.”

“You kissed after me,” he teased, chuckling. “That means you got some of my saliva in your mouth.”

You blushed madly, quickly wiping your lips. “Finnick! Don’t say that!”

He laughed as he pressed his face into your neck. “Oh come on! Knights and queens belong together.”

You purse your lips. “No, kings and queens belong together.”

“Knights and queens make better pairs,” he says immediately before humming. “Y/N, I want to do something.”

Your brow ruffled. “Okay?”

He shook his head. “With you. If you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop and I will, I promise, but I’ve been wanting to do it with you for a while.”

You nodded. “Okay, I will. What is it, Finnick?”

He blushed madly, cheeks turning a bright red as he looked away. “C-Can you close your eyes?”

You do, closing them tightly before something soft lands on your lips. You don’t realize it at first, but Finnick was kissing you. Your lifelong crush was kissing you.

You don’t open your eyes until he pulls away, slowly finding his eyes as he swallows. “W-Was that okay?”

You look at him confused. “Did you just kiss me, Finnick?”

He looked away, mumbling under his breath. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he was blushing madly. “I just… I‘ve been wanting to do it for a while and-”

You pressed your lips to his before he could even finish, holding his cheeks before pulling away. It was soft and quick, but that’s all you really needed. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you rub them softly, clearing your throat. “I uhm… you don’t have to ask next time.”

He starts to smile. “So I can kiss you whenever I want?”

You shove him. “Of course not, dummy! We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend!”

His smile falls. “Why not?”

Your brow furrowed. “You… you want to be?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says quickly, fixing the flower over your ear. “I want to love you until the end of time.”

“Forever?” You ask and he nods.

“And when we meet again in our next life.”

You inhaled shakily as you stood at the end of the white carpet rolled out between the chairs of people, only the most significant you truly wanted to come. Finnick stood on the dock, hands ringing together nervously before he saw you. His jaw drops as he stares, Cinna grinning as he stands between him and where you were going to stand.

Mags had sadly died a few months before Atlas was born, peacefully with you and Finnick by her side. Of course you were heartbroken, but you also knew you would meet again in your next life.

The drums started to play as Atlas tugged on your hand making you look down at him.

“Mama, are you okay? Daddy’s crying.”

You look at Finnick who, sure enough, had tears rolling down his cheeks before he wiped at them.

“Yes baby,” you whisper, your own eyes filling with tears. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m amazing, I’m so, so happy.”

“Well, come on!”

You laughed as he tugged you down the aisle, waving at everyone as Haymitch and Effie grin at you. You smiled widely at them, wiping at your cheeks as you finally got to the dock where the drums stopped.

Atlas ran around you both, running to Cinna who sighed loudly.

“And at last, the day has finally come,” he says, announcing it to everyone here. “Where the King and Queen of Panem are getting married again.”

You can feel the rope being wrapped around you both, your hand holding one end as you stare up at Finnick who leaned his forehead against yours. Cinna continues to speak as Finnick takes the other end, Katniss and Peeta stepping forward to do the same thing they did the first time, but this time, they cut off the previous rope from your wrists before melting the second one around again.

“I have a gift for you both,” Cinna says as the rope stays wrapped around you both, slowly taking a box from his pocket before opening it. “To add onto your rings.”

You gasped as he took out two more rings, one a thinner band with a pearl on it made for Finnick while the other was a vine-shaped gold with a pearl on it as well. He slips them both onto your fingers as you look up at Finnick, eyes watering as he sighed. “I fucking love you, Y/N Odair. I love you so much.”

You giggled, stroking his cheek. “I love you, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and in our next life.”

He sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Until the end of time and in our next life, darling.”

“Give her a real kiss, Finnick!” Effie shouts, Atlas groaning in disgust as Finnick pulls his hand from the rope, both of his strong palms resting on your jaw as he pulls you closer, kissing you passionately.

You could taste the slight saltiness from the tears, but you groaned against his lips as you pulled him closer, lower. Everyone cheers as Atlas groans once again.

“Stop being nasty!”

You giggle as you pull away, smiling up at him again. “I love you too, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and when we meet in our next life.”

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪

In our next life taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪   𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪   𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪   𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪   𓆩[@ok-boke]𓆪   𓆩[@instabull]𓆪   𓆩[@maxinehufflepuffprincess]𓆪   𓆩[@starryeddie]𓆪   𓆩[@ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations]𓆪   𓆩[@taestrwbrry]𓆪   𓆩[@iveraly]𓆪   𓆩[@b1llzb1tch]𓆪   𓆩[@avoxrising]𓆪   𓆩[@aquawhore]𓆪   𓆩[@luna-ann]𓆪   𓆩[@maliaaaa]𓆪   𓆩[@jyessaminereads]𓆪   𓆩[@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere]𓆪   𓆩[@crowleysqueenofhell]𓆪   𓆩[@alexa-33]𓆪   𓆩[@wh0re4life]𓆪 𓆩[@duwcsd]𓆪   𓆩[@nyainterlu4ee]𓆪 𓆩[@magical-spit]𓆪

omg. OMG. THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT! OMG!

This is the last chapter, omg. With a heavy heart, this is (kinda) the end! I will start taking requests for Finnick in this universe, the link to request is in at the top! Don't be shy my loves!

© asterias-record-shop

[coryosmin]

Confessions - Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW Content MDNI, Talks of Trauma from Hunger Games, Talks of Prostitution, emotional sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, i love yous during sex, friends with benefits, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

please guys this is 3,000 words 😭😭😭

based off of an ask to do finnick x shy reader and one where reader admits her feelings for Finnick because her crush on him is so obvious (i definitely did not make the crush part obvious but pls enjoy it nevertheless)

It all started when you had won your Hunger Games. You were the victor of the 69th Hunger Games from District 4. You had grown close to Finnick as he was your mentor during your time as a tribute. And the night before the Games, you had confided in him with all of your fears, all of your weepiness, your goodbyes.

So when you won your games, it was more than a shock to you. You were in a daze. You didn’t comprehend that you won right away. When you had gotten picked up by the hovercraft, you didn’t react. When Finnick greeted you with a bone-crushing hug, you thought it was nothing more than your imagination. Nothing felt real. Not after murdering all of those innocent children simply as a means of survival. Your victory interview passed like a blur. You didn’t even realize when President Snow had gifted you the crown. You didn’t even realize how you had gotten on to the train back home.

You had been in this daze until you arrived back in District Four and heard the ocean for the first time in two weeks. You had been moved to a house in Victor’s Village without your family. Being eighteen years old, you didn’t need to rely on them any longer. So, in your daze, when you saw the ocean for the first time, it hit you. Everything hit you all at once. You were lucky that it had been only Finnick who guided you to your home.

You immediately began to cry, shaking as you understood what all happened. You had killed ten of the twenty-three other tributes which is more than what previous Victors had. You went through hell and back, so much emotional and physical turmoil, and now the repercussions of it all were finally catching up to you. And Finnick? He hugged you immediately, rubbing your bath soothingly as he held you tight, squeezing you to ground you.

The next six months that had followed was all about Finnick being there for you. He made sure you ate, he helped you find a hobby to help you process everything, he was there for you through all of it. And when your victory tour had arrived, you were almost yourself again.

That was until you had spoken to President Snow and everything you had any hopes for came crashing down. To become the Capitol’s Black Bird, he said. You were so shy and humble, you’re attractive too. President Snow thought you were desirable. And therefore, you must become an asset to the Capitol or he will kill everyone you love.

And you couldn’t have that.

That night when you had gotten back from your victory party, Finnick had noticed something was off about you and asked if you had spoken to President Snow. To which you began to cry. You were eighteen years old when you did your games, now being nineteen years old. You hadn’t had sex yet let alone your first kiss. A week later when the news had finally sunk in and you came to terms with it back in District 4, you lost your virginity to Finnick. He suggested the idea saying “I know what it’s like to have that choice taken away from you. You can say no of course but if you’d like, I am here.” So you shyly said yes. It was magical.

And friends with benefits situations were made. Whenever you guys had gone to the Capitol to entertain the Capitol citizens, you both would end up going at the same time, attending the same events. And when you’d get back to the penthouse, you both sought comfort in each other.

Three years later, at the 72nd Hunger Games, you and Finnick were mentors like you have been in the past three years. You both had just gotten back to the District Four Tribute suite with your fellow tributes from the tribute interviews. Everyone had made their ways to their bedrooms, knowing tomorrow would be the beginning of the Games. You unfortunately knew what that meant. Sponsors in the Capitol tend to place bets on their favorite tribute. However, in order for your tributes to get sponsors, you practically have to whore yourself out. It was disgusting but unfortunately something you were used to.

You felt saddened by the thought, knowing tomorrow your tributes will be in the arena and rather than actively helping them, you’ll be getting fucked by some random Capitol stranger in hopes they’ll sponsor your tributes. It was disgusting.

You had gotten yourself showered and into pajamas, wanting to wash off all of the makeup you were wearing. And when you were finished, you had gone to Finnick’s room. He understood how you felt as he currently has to go through the same thing, even doing it before you became a mentor. He likely did it when you were in your own games. You sighed before knocking on Finnick’s door.

A few minutes later, Finnick answered the door in just a towel wrapped around his torso. He gave a small smile before letting you into the room, closing the door behind you. “Hello,” He greeted, walking back into his bathroom.

“Hi,” Came the soft tone of your voice. Your cheeks were slightly red at the sight of Finnick. You’ve seen one another naked so many times and yet he never failed to make you blush. “I just didn’t feel like being alone, i-if that’s okay.” You said as you sat down on the bed.

Finnick walked back out of the bathroom in a pair of underwear, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “Of course that’s okay,” He replied, giving a soft smile. “Anything on your mind?”

You gave a small and sad smile. “Just what tomorrow brings.”

Finnick nodded in understanding, reaching an arm out to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “It’s going to be tough. It always is.” He said, sighing. He pressed a kiss to your forehead which definitely made your heart flutter more than it should.

You didn’t reply, just allowing yourself that moment to be held by Finnick. You’d never admit it out loud, it would be too embarrassing, but you loved just being in his presence. You loved the feeling he gave you when you were with him. How he always listened to what you had to say, how he never failed to comfort you, just like you never failed to comfort him, he’s helped you through so much. And you couldn’t help the feelings you had for him. But with your current positions, a relationship would not be possible. And it was the sad truth.

You and Finnick sat there in silence for a few minutes until he placed his pointer finger and thumb under your chin, lifting your head up. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?” He murmured softly, his green eyes looking into your beautiful [color] one’s.

You simply nodded your head. And Finnick gently placed his lips on yours. His kisses were always so soft and gentle, like you were the most delicate thing in the world. It warms your heart. You kissed him back just as gently, your eyes closing naturally. Soon the kiss began to get more heated, his tongue exploring your mouth as you allowed it to. And eventually, Finnick’s hand was at the hem of your shirt. He pulled away briefly. “May I?” He asked breathlessly, asking for your permission to take your shirt off.

God he was perfect. You shyly nodded your head, biting your lip as you did so. Finnick gave a small smile as he lifted your shirt up, throwing it onto the floor. You weren’t wearing a bra underneath so your breasts were just exposed. “Can I touch you?” His voice held the same breathless tone as he asked.

“Yes.” Your voice was so soft and quiet.

Finnick leaned in to kiss you again, bringing his hands to grip your shoulders briefly before cupping your boobs. He kneaded the flesh, massaging them gently in his hand. You let out a small whimper into Finnick’s mouth as he began to play with your nipple while his hand played with the other one. You ran your hand through his hair, careful to not tug on it. Finnick pushed you down gently, laying you on the mattress. His mouth never leaving your boob as he leans on you.

He moves his mouth to your other breast, doing the same with it as he done previously so. You bit your lip to avoid moans escaping your mouth. You’ve been sleeping with him for so long and yet, you were still too shy to make noise for him. Finnick trailed his hand down your body, stopping at the hem of your pants. His green eyes look up at yours, as if asking for permission. And you nod your head in confirmation. He sneaks a hand into your pajama pants, realizing you weren’t wearing panties. “Going commando tonight, huh?” He teased against your skin.

You blushed. “Uh…” You bit your lip. Finnick simply chuckled as he began to kiss your chest and abdomen. His fingers trailed your slit, causing you to gasp as he spread your wetness around.

“You’re always so wet for me,” He murmured, kissing right above your naval. His thumb began to toy at your clit, rubbing it in sweet and slow circles. You continued to bite your lip as you inhaled sharply. He slowly eased a finger inside of you, causing you to whimper as he continued to rub your clit with his thumb. He immediately curled his finger, causing you to actually moan. You covered your mouth with your hand, embarrassed. “Don’t hide your moans from me, darling. I want to know that you feel good,” Finnick said reassuringly.

You were still quite shy, being embarrassed of making noise. Finnick moved his thumb off of your clit to give him better access to finger you. His finger moved slowly inside of you, hitting your g-spot so nicely. You closed your eyes as you relished in the pleasure. And after a few moments he added another finger and then a third. And you couldn’t help the small moans escaping your mouth as he fingered you. You felt the familiar clench in your abdomen as your orgasm approached, causing you to arch your back. “Cum for me darling, you’re doing so good,” Finnick praised, pressing a kiss on to your stomach.

When your thighs clamped shut, your walls contracting on his fingers and your body began to quiver as your orgasm overtook you, Finnick was praising you, telling you how beautiful you were and how lovely you felt around his fingers. It was actually quite magical. And when you came down from your high, you were breathless and couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped you as you looked at Finnick. His eyes were full of such…adoration and there was a softness to them. He looked almost as though he were in love. But you quickly pushed that thought away.

“Do you want to continue or are you done for the night?” Finnick asked softly, taking his hand out of your pants.

You bit your lip before replying. “Need you, Finnick.”

And with that, Finnick grinned. He stood up from the bed, standing at the end. He reached forward to grab the waistline of your pajama pants, pulling them off of your body as gently as possible before throwing them to the other side of his room. He took off his own boxers, revealing his cock to the cool air.

He crawled back on to the bed, hovering over you as you opened your legs to him. He held himself up by his arms. “You’re sure you want this, darling?” He asked you softly, looking into your beautiful eyes.

“Yes.” You nodded your head, reaching up to caress his cheek. Finnick kissed your wrist as he reached an arm in between the two of you, guiding his cock to your pussy. He spread your wetness around with his cock before lining up with your entrance. He leaned down to kiss you as he slowly eased himself into you.

You moaned into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Finnick’s neck. And as he entered you all the way, he pulled away slightly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, already breathless. You looked into his eyes, your heart fluttering in your chest. He gave you a few moments to adjust before he slowly began moving inside of you.

Finnick let out a soft moan as he thrusted slowly, leaning down to bury his face in your neck. Your other arm wrapped around Finnick’s shoulder as you moaned softly in his ear. The closeness to Finnick, the feeling of him inside of you, making you feel so good. You closed your eyes in pleasure as he fucked you slowly. It felt different than all the times you guys have had sex. In fact, it felt very similarly to when you had lost your virginity to him.

Finnick began to move a little bit faster, still maintaining a slow pace as he relished in the pleasure of your wet cunt on his cock. “You feel so good, baby.” He murmured, moving his face to look you in the eyes.

You looked up at him as he continued to thrust into you. Your cheeks were red, your hair was sprawled out on the pillow. You looked absolutely beautiful to Finnick. And he looked so handsome as well. His cheeks were dusted red, his eyes were just so comforting and warm as you looked up at him. He always made you feel so good and just so wonderful. And you couldn’t help it when you moaned out “I love you,” in such a soft tone.

Finnick froze, stopping his movements as he heard you. “W-what did you say?” he stuttered as his heart fluttered in his chest.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you had said. “I-uh” Your heart was beating fast, suddenly worried about ruining this moment and even your friendship with Finnick. But as you looked up into his green eyes, you could see a flicker of hope. “I-I said I love you.” You whispered.

And suddenly Finnick whines, thrusting into you faster. “Fuck. I love you so much, baby,” He says, leaning down to kiss you. You whine and moan, arching your back as he fucks you so deeply. Finnick grabs your hand with his, intertwining your fingers as he holds them near your head. He pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily with his forehead on yours. “I love you,” He murmurs.

You look up at him so prettily, your eyes glistening with tears of pleasure and also of emotion. “I love you,” you murmured back, breathing just as heavily as he was.

Finnick’s pace quickened as he fucked into you hard. It was all so passionate and romantic as emotions were high. Your second orgasm of the night was approaching as you felt that pressure in your lower abdomen. Finnick must’ve been getting close too as he moaned, repeating the words “I love you” over and over again as he kisses your neck.

And after a few more thrusts, you’re cumming on his cock, your walls clenching around his member so tightly. Your fingers grasped his as your eyes closed in pleasure and you’re moaning. Shortly after, Finnick is cumming deep inside of you, burying his face in your shoulder, with a loud moan.

You both stayed like that for awhile, coming down from your orgasms as you stayed close to one another. And after a few minutes, Finnick pulled out of you, causing you to whine, but he stayed on top of you. He held himself up to look into your eyes. “Did you really mean it?” He asked, his tone holding a level of vulnerability to it.

You looked up at him and nodded your head. “I’ve loved you since I came out of the arena.” You murmured.

And Finnick couldn’t help it when his eyes began to water. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to push away the tears before looking back at you. He cleared his throat. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N.” He said, removing his hand from yours to run it through your hair before caressing your face. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you so very much, Finnick.” You said, reaching your hand up to his face as well.

And thus began your relationship with Finnick. You guys stayed relatively the same but now with your feelings out in the open, you could enjoy more romantic evenings together in District Four. And every time either of you had to go to the Capitol, the other was always there to comfort them. You guys loved each other more than anything in the world.

Which is why it made it hard when you were both chosen for the 75th Annual Hunger Games.

END.

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt. 2

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your mentoring tasks persist as you and the newly crowned victor tackle a Capitol party- with some help.

part one | part three

"So you’re stealing from me now?” 

You jump at the sudden sound of the voice behind you. Luckily, none of your champagne spills. 

“Pardon?” You look over your shoulder, only to see a pretty face coming your way. 

“Intellectual theft is serious, you know,” Finnick says with faux sincerity, and takes a sip of his own champagne. 

You lazily roll your eyes, “Please, one of my cows could have come up with the momma-bear angle.” You pick at your nails again, gaze drifting back to where District Ten’s Capitol escort parades Darla around. Before the group of you had even arrived, she’d forbidden you from sticking by Darla’s side the whole night. Said the president wanted people to get to know her- which made you reluctant to separate from the girl you’d taken under your wing. 

You’d settled for watching her like a hawk, prepared to intervene if you recognized any bad apples. 

"Blue suits you, by the way," he starts, and you cast him a suspicious sidelong glance. "Much better than brown, or so I'd assume." You prickle with embarrassment, catching the reference to what he'd overheard the other night.

You cross your arms, "Don't be a jerk." The words sound sad rather than snippy- like you intended them to.

"I was trying to compliment you," he insists. "Really, you look quite nice. This is a far cry from your outfit the other night." Your pajamas. They were the closest thing in reach when you were paged to the recording studio during Darla's breakdown. The reminder makes you shift awkwardly, suddenly even more uncomfortable.

"How kind of you," you say flatly, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of the dress your stylist had placed you in. At least this interaction is slightly less mortifying than the one, or two you suppose, you had with him the other night.

Finnick doesn't respond, and you don't bother looking at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you find Darla in the crowd and start picking at the skin around your nails again. She seems okay for now, but it doesn't do much to ease your worry.

”You seem nervous,” Finnick says, without his former mirth. You startle again, assuming he'd walked away. 

 “Do I?” You briefly let your gaze flick up to him, eyes wide, before turning right back to your task. 

“Well, at the rate you’re going, your hands will be bone within the hour,” he lightly grabs your wrist, drawing your attention to the blood (both fresh and dried) that sits on your cuticles. "Have you been at this all night?"

“Thanks for your concern,” you snatch your hand back, trying to shield it from his gaze. It takes you a second to spot Darla again, and when you do your shoulders drop in relief. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he doubles down. 

“Did you ask one?” You bite back. 

“What are you nervous about?” He asks. 

You turn fully toward him, “What do you think?” You extend an arm out, gesturing to where Darla is. 

Finnick follows your gesture to spot Darla being dragged around. He huffs, "She'll be alright, you know. Like us."

"Speak for yourself," you laugh, but it's a hollow sound.

His face falls, "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I don't like it," you snap sourly. Closing your eyes, you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath. When you open them, you face the front again. "The way I feel all the time," you shake your head slowly, "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Let alone Darla, so if I can- if I can just keep her close enough, I can spare her from some of this."

He quietly says your name, almost like a warning.

"No!" You cut him off, "No, I know how I sound. I can do it." The look in his eye says he's not buying it, but you double down, "I have to. I have to... try." Your voice breaks a little, but there's no time to be embarrassed over it when a different voice calls out your name.

Finnick watches as you pull yourself together. The change is visible. It's almost like you're a new person, the one the Capitol adores. Sweet and pristine, bloody hands hidden neatly behind your back.

"I wanted to thank you for coming in this week. The kids love your visits," the middle-aged woman says, smiling at you. Her attire is far less ostentatious than her fellow partygoers, but she's clearly Capitol-born and bred. Her gaze shifts to Finnick, and he stiffens, recognizing the look in her eye.

It seems you notice it, too, as you're quick to intervene. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Montgomery," he almost cringes when he recognizes the name you call her. "If I could, I'd come often enough that they'd be sick of me." You're good at this, though, he notes, grateful for being off the hot seat. Quick and clever, just like in your games.

"Impossible!" The Capitolite laughs, "In fact, they're already asking me when you'll be back. When are you free?"

While your facade is impressive, it's not perfect. He sees you tense before replying, pleasant as ever, "I'm actually heading home soon, but I'll let you know when I'm back." It's enough to appease Mrs. Montgomery, at least. She eyes the buffet table.

"Please do! I'll see you soon, love," she waves as she walks away. You wave back, picture-perfect smile lighting up your features.

It drops as soon as she turns, and he does his best not to laugh at the contrast. "If that's who I think it is, I hate her husband," Finnick tells you.

You echo the sentiment with a scoff, "Me too."

"I thought you were sweet to everyone but me," he turns toward you in surprise, and you shrug. "Here I was thinking I was special," he shakes his head in faux sadness.

A small grin emerges on your face at his antics, though it's clear you're trying to hide it. He spots it, however, and smiles a bit, basking in his victory. Suddenly, your poorly concealed grin drops, and he follows your gaze to see who stole the humorous moment you'd been sharing.

Darla, of course, but someone else is with her. A large man, probably a few inches taller than Finnick, towers over the sixteen-year-old. She looks terribly uncomfortable, and the District Ten escort is missing from her side. When his eyes flick back to you, he finds your expression mirrors Darla's. It's worse, even, and far worse than when Mrs. Montgomery came around.

You turn to face him, eyes wet and blown with fear. He's never seen you look so vulnerable, not on TV and not in your limited interactions. You looked worried the other night, sure, but this is different. This is a look of terror.

"Dance with her," you practically beg, suddenly grabbing his forearm. Your voice trembles, "Please. They'll- I can't take her away. Please just go dance with her." Tears threaten to spill over, and you get more upset as you go on.

Finnick's reluctant to leave you so distraught, but he's sure that whisking Darla away from whoever this is is the only way to assuage your worry. "Of course," he nods, ducking his head a bit to be on eye level with you. His hand covers yours, subtly removing himself from your grasp so he can attend to your request. "Keep an eye on us, okay? It'll be fine."

He holds your gaze for a bit as he departs, but he can feel your eyes on him even after that. Quickly, he comes upon Darla and the large man that you apparently know and abhor enough to ask him this favor. He spews some of the charming bullshit everyone in the city eats right up and steals Darla away without issue.

Finnick looks back to where he left you as he leads her onto the dancefloor, hoping that seeing Darla safe will ease your panic. He's caught in the act, though, "Sent by my guardian angel, then?" The teenager asks him, pulling his attention back to the dance floor.

"How'd you know?" His eyebrows knit together, and the girl laughs.

"She's been watching me from the same spot all night. It's kind of creepy," she jokes.

"I think she's just worried," Finnick says defensively.

"I think if she stays there for much longer, they'll install her as a statue," Darla quips. It's funny, but he fails to chuckle since he wouldn't put it past the people here. She sort of cringes, realizing the joke didn't land. "I'm really grateful for her, don't get me wrong," Darla tries, "it's just- sometimes I wonder about her."

"How so?"

Darla inhales, "I don't know. She disappears and just seems... different when she comes back. And I swear she lies about where she goes since there's never any press coverage, but cameras constantly follow her." His face falls as Darla goes on, "Sometimes when she sees random people, she instantly clams up."

It's a little too familiar to him. Paired with your reaction to both his comment about Mr. Montgomery and seeing that man with Darla, he's starting to understand. Maybe he has more in common with you than he'd originally thought.

"Finnick?" Darla says, and he realizes he's left her in silence for too long.

"I was gonna say I wonder about her too, but I was thinking more- favorite food, favorite color," he tries to lighten the mood.

Darla looks pleased as punch, "Well when it comes to you, I have her pinned."

"Yeah?" Finnick asks, amused.

"Yeah," Darla nods, "she’s clearly head over heels for you.”  

His eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, no, she’s totally in love with you,” she reaffirms.

“Are we thinking of the same person?” He asks, extremely skeptical.

“Yes!” Darla insists, lightly slapping the side of his head. 

“Well, it just seems like she doesn’t like me,” he defends himself. 

“You make her nervous,” Darla affirms. “She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t being rude. She told me the other night, this is a quote by the way, 'he's so gorgeous, I can't say anything to his face.'"

“You’re kidding.” 

“Nope,” she pops the P. 

“I struggle to believe that Capitol’s loveliest victor won’t talk to me because she thinks I’m pretty,” he scoffs. 

“It’s more than that,” Darla chides, “she thinks you’re too good for her, so before you can reject her, she tries to beat you to the punch.” 

“And when exactly did she tell you all this?” He asks skeptically. 

“Oh, we had a sleepover the other night and got super drunk. Boy, was she an open vault,” Darla laughs, but it's clear to him you'd kept some secrets to yourself.

“And you don’t feel bad telling me?” He inquires skeptically. 

“Please, I’m helping her help herself.” She scoffs, “She’d pine over you until her dying day without ever saying a word.” 

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” he says. Finnick's not sure how reliable a source the teenager is, so he decides to refocus on his original goal. "I meant to ask if you were ok, by the way. You know that guy?” 

Darla’s face sours. “No clue. But let’s just say I was glad for the interruption.” 

He raises a brow, hoping she’ll elaborate. 

“I felt like he was … looking at me,” she huffs. “Like, trying to see below the dress.” Finnick's jaw clenches at that. He knows the type. He deals with the type. And now he's almost certain you do too, hence your big reaction.

"Well, if he bothers you again, just come find me. I'm quite comfortable on the dance floor," he tells her as the song comes to an end.

Darla pats his bicep, "Thanks, but you should really be getting comfortable with someone else." She nods her toward where you'd been standing. "The bar will take good care of me." She only gets a few paces before he calls out after her.

“Hey!” She turns to catch his words. “Moderation,” he points at her, emphasizing the word.

She smirks, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad.” A smile twitches at his lip, and he shakes his head as he turns to find you. 

When Finnick finally circles back to where he'd left you, you're nowhere in sight. He sighs, disappointed, though he can't quite blame you when you've revealed more about yourself tonight than you probably intended.

He wonders if you've left the party or just found a better observation spot, but either way, something tells him you don't want to be found right now. He remembers something you said earlier about shielding Darla. You seem to be doing alright so far, but he's suddenly wondering how far you'll go.

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Once again- super unedited. I'm just having fun on my holiday break at this point. I feel like this leaned kinda sad? So... sorry for that. <3