#Finnick Odair x yn

[imsogonesposts]

Ocean Blue Eyes, Looking in Mine

|| ao3 || finnick masterlist || an: i wrote this cause i thought rep tv was gonna be announced 😕 || based on the song gorgeous by taylor swift || requests are open!! ||

summary: Finnick flirts with you at one of the Capitol parties. (wc: 942)

warnings: drinking, I think thats it!!

The only interesting thing about the Capitol parties you were forced to attend, was that every now and then, you got to see Finnick Odair. The two of you had spoken a few times in District 4, but never enough to be considered friends. But he had always seemed nice, and he clearly still was, even after all these years, even after the Hunger Games.

“You might get alcohol poisoning if you keep drinking tonight, honey,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk. 

“Why do you talk like that?” You ask, playfully swatting his hand away as he tries to take your glass of wine away. You needed the wine to distract you from the party. From its blinding lights that were starting to hurt your eyes, and the overly eager citizens of the Capitol that were beginning to get on your nerves. You needed it to keep you from counting down the seconds until you could go home. 

“Talk like what?” He asked with one of those charming smiles he always seemed to have on. The smile you both loved and hated. 

“Like that,” you reply, smiling as he looked at you in confusion. 

You had never admitted it to anyone, but you had always had a bit of a crush on Finnick Odair. It started when you were both five years old, and he helped you up after you tripped over a few seashells on the beach. He had helped you up, brushed some of the sand off you, and helped you look for your parents after noticing your legs had started to bleed. And after he brought you back to them, he had stayed to make sure you were okay. You weren’t sure if he remembered that day, but you did, and you couldn’t help but have a crush on him afterward. A crush that still stood as you looked at his face. At his golden hair, at his dimples, and at those blue eyes that reminded you all too much of the ocean that surrounded your shared district. It wasn’t fair that he could still make you feel this way, all these years later, even if you two have only spoken a handful of times since then. You decided to blame it on the alcohol.

“Excuse me,” you suddenly state, “I see someone I should talk to,” you say with a smile. You didn’t know who you would go talk to, but that seemed like a problem for the future. Right now, you just needed to clear your head, and Finnick Odair certainly wasn’t helping with that. 

You noticed the flash of a small frown on Finnick’s face before he quickly replaced it with one of his charming smiles. “Of course,” he replied, taking your free hand and raising it to his lips. “It was lovely talking to you again,” he finished, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as he said your name. 

You knew Finnick Odair was a well-known flirt, which is why you tried to calm your heart as his lips touched the back of your heart. But the alcohol coursing through your veins certainly wasn’t helping with that.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You suddenly asked, immediately regretting the question as he smiled at you—a soft, sweet smile. 

“No,” he replied, “I do not.” 

The two of you stared at each other as you went over his response in your head. His ocean blue eyes looking into yours as you contemplated how to respond. You felt as if you could drown in those eyes as he creased his eyebrows, looking at you in confusion. 

“Why do you look confused?” He asked as you shrugged with a smile.

“I’m deciding if that’s a good or bad thing.” You replied.

“If I have a girlfriend?” He asked with a laugh. You simply nodded. “Why would it be a bad thing?”

Because you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts. It doesn’t make sense how you of all people could be single. “Because if you’re single, there’s no hope for the rest of us,” you joke. 

“I’m sure there’d be hope for you,” he replies with a smile. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You could feel yourself grow warm at his compliment. “Does that usually work on the other girls?” You joked. He just laughed. 

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I don’t really go around calling other girls gorgeous,” he said with a wink. 

Oh. “What do you call them then?” You asked. 

“Pretty,” he replied, moving a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I’ve ever called gorgeous.” His hand drops back to his side as he smiles. 

Oh. He only ever called you gorgeous? Oh

“Well,” he says, glancing around the room, “I shouldn’t keep you from the person you needed to talk to,” he said. 

You had forgotten that. You wanted to admit you had lied about needing to talk to someone in order to avoid his gaze. To avoid the butterflies in your stomach every time he looked at you, touched you, and flirted with you. You wanted to stay and continue talking with him. To continue letting him compliment you as you stared at the captivating eyes you wished to get lost in. But you had embarrassed yourself around him enough for one night. 

“Right, of course,” you replied with a nod, fighting a smile as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand once more. “I’ll see you around, Finnick,” you said as he smiled, lightly squeezing your hand before releasing it. 

“I hope so,” he responded before leaving to mingle with the citizens of the Capitol. 

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle. 

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case. 

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise. 

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder. 

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack. 

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up. 

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left  shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out. 

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too. 

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively. 

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees. 

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—” 

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[your-averagewriter]

“I will always wait for you."

Summary: (y/n) is rushed into the hospital of District 13 after being rescued from the Capitol. After a lot of distress, Finnick and (y/n) reunite. (Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: violence, talk of trauma, injury, kissing

-

-

I feel my head lull backwards, I don’t even have the strength to look up properly but even so, my head feels abnormally heavy. The hospital cloth scratches against my burnt skin but the feeling is still better than that of the sodden outfits I remember only too well. The sounds of machines, beeping and beeping in my ears irritate me to no end, mimicking the sounds of the sirens and alarms before the imminent terror of the cells. Blinking my eyes shut and clasping my hands over my ears I try to stop myself from thinking but all I can hear is Snow’s smug voice through the speaker and I can see his smirk with it. 

I open my eyes again to see a bland corridor, nothing but grey walls but I can hear the incessant beeping and doctors yelling. Others in hospital beds and gowns rush down the hallway and I notice a few familiar face. I can’t think of who they are, I recognise their faces but where from I don’t know, I stop thinking about it as my head starts to hurt even more.

I try to sit up but somebody pushes me back down and I don’t have the strength to protest. There are shouts to up my dose and I try to protest but all that comes out are incomprehensible slurs. I quickly feel the effect as my eyes roll back and I suddenly feel tired, even more so than usual. 

The bed isn’t soft but it’s certainly an improvement on the prison beds which makes it even easier to just fall asleep. Feeling my eyelids droop I let them, in desperate need of some rest and sleep. 

Only moments later I feel myself gain consciousness and I immediately sit upright, this time not stopped by an attendant. Sadly, the constant noise hasn’t stopped, machines, people, everything and everyone is making a noise it seems and my hands fly to my ears in desperate need of relief from the sounds. My eyes are hot and I can feel tears stinging at my eyes begging to be released. My fingernails dig into my scalp as I grip my ears, desperately trying to block out the noises but it’s all in vain because as soon as I block out surrounding noise I can hear Snow in my head again, taunting me. At any moment he could take me back and torture me, he could kill me and my family - he might have already. His threats in my ear only provoke more tears but I’m quickly attended to by strangers dressed in weird uniforms.

They try to remove my hands from my ears but as each one touches me I push them off, scared of what they’ll do and scared of the sounds they’ll let in if I hear again. After pushing away their grasping hands the tears only flow more, all eyes are on me, even the patients in the beds around me are looking at me (the ones I can’t quite remember have a special look in their eyes and I can’t tell whether it’s pity or understanding).

Doctors are shouting commands and nurses are still grabbing my hands but despite my now weak frame, I spent weeks or months of blocking out the sounds they threw at me, refusing to listen but then they got inside my head.

This ordeal continues for merely a few moments more before all the doctors and nurses step away, I look at them confused through my teary eyes but then relief washes over my face as a familiar figure walks through the door. Finnick. He rushes towards me followed behind by a few others who run to other patients.

He wraps his arms around me but my hands still don’t budge from my ears until he reaches his hands up and places them on top of mine. His hands are calloused but somehow still soft, the corners of my lips upturn slightly before returning to the straight line.

He’s talking but I can’t hear him until he turns around and I assume yells at the doctors as they quickly scurry out of the room leaving only us and the other patients. He turns back and his eyes are on mine. He’s always had the most beautiful eyes, the green specks in the sea of his eyes, even if I forgot Finnick I could never forget his eyes. Gently, he grips my hands and slowly pulls them away from my ears, I resist at first but then relent, relaxing my arms and letting Finnick bring them down in front of us. He places a soft kiss on each of my hands before laying them down on the bed.

Leaning forward towards me he wraps his arms around my frail body, gently, careful not to hurt me. I rest my head on his shoulder before burying my face into the crook of his neck and wrapping my arms around his neck. My breathing is short and quick as I feel my tears dampen Finn’s shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The warmth of another human is a feeling I have not felt for a while, it seems like forever. I can’t even remember how long ago it was I last saw Finnick but it was too long ago separated by what felt like years of constant torture.

He pulls back but his hands remain gently resting on my waist as I’m sat up in the hospital bed. He places his forehead on my mine and closes his eyes whilst I mimic his movements. This was something we always did, before we got separated and repeating our little ritual brings back not only happy memories but the most important and meaningful ones. 

“You’re okay now,” Finn says quietly, his forehead still resting on mine. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He says and even with everything that had happened recently, I believe him entirely. I nod slightly and gently as I can’t bring myself to say anything. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, it takes a couple of tries to finally get the simple words out. Finn chuckles softly.

“I’m okay. You’re the one you should be worried about.” He says leaning back slightly to look at me. “How are you feeling?” He says now holding onto my hands again.

“Fine.” I croak out.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“What?”

“Anything.”

“No more than normal,” I say as an attempt at sarcasm but he only responds with a pair of sad eyes and a discouraged face. Silence fills the room for a couple of seconds but the sound of the machines hasn’t stopped. “When can I leave?” I say, my head drooping slightly at the high drug dosage.

“Not yet.” He says pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely looking at my disappointed expression. 

“I missed you so much…” I say quietly, placing my head on his chest. “The hope that you were alive and waiting for me somewhere was what kept me going.” I say, getting tearful again.

“I will always wait for you no matter where or when.”

-

AN: I know everyone's in their Hunger Games phase right now so I thought I'd contribute even though I'm in my Hunger Games phase all the time.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Requests: Please note these will be likely shorter than my longer requests (I say that but you all know me 😂). These cannot contain a lot of specifics or anything like that. Rather, it’s a simple concept and a character. Limit is 1 request per follower for this option given the time it’ll take to do these.

what about finnick odair x wife!reader where he has to go back to the games and she waits for him and they reunite back in 13 and she is glued to his side during their time there cause she's afraid to lose him and it's like hurt comfort and fluffy <333

Heartbreak’s Cure : Finnick Odair x Reader

Descr: 5k wc, Finnick and his wife reunite in District 13 after Finnick returns from his second Hunger Games and they help each other through the aftermath of him being reaped a second time. Hurt-comfort, flangst

Warnings: hunger game type content and applicable warnings, trauma, sadness, mentions of Mag’s death, mentions of Finnick’s background (including brief mention of Snow selling his body).

“Finnick!”

“Fin!”

“Y/n?”

“Honey?!”

“Fin!”

The couple’s screaming continued as they raced toward the sound of the other’s voice.

Y/n sprinted around the corner of the dull gray slabbed walls of the medical corridor when her eyes finally caught sight of who she’d been searching for; her husband. The air left her lungs and her body abruptly halted upon seeing him.

Finnick had been bolting down the hallway when y/n suddenly appeared as she turned the corner. He briefly paused in breathless relief before he once again began charging towards his wife.

Y/n copied Finnick’s needy rush and ran straight into his extended arms. She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he lifted her up. She hooked her legs around his waist as he held her to him so tight it was difficult to breathe. But she couldn’t care less. He was alive! He was home!

Finnick spun them around as he closed his eyes and admired the way it felt to be able to hold his loving wife once again. “Hi love,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hi Finny,” y/n whimpered. “Are you alright?” She asked, leaning back against the supportive hold he had on her tailbone so she could see him.

“I’m perfectly fine now y/n/n,” Finnick vowed, pulling her back to him and protectively holding her tight in his arms. He was so relieved his sweet wife was okay. That Snow hadn’t been able to harm her before she’d made it to District 13.

After a heartfelt kiss between them, y/n pulled away as her worry took over. “Let me take a look at you,” y/n pressed, not believing Finnick‘s well meaning reassurance. She again leaned back while staying in his arms, her legs still around his waist as he held her up. She frowned as her eyes noticed the multitude of scratches along his face. “Liar,” she whispered with a pout.

Finnick chuckled lightly. Damn he had missed her.

Y/n hopped down from Finnick’s arms and grabbed his bicep. “C’mere baby,” she cooed as she lead him to the nearest stretcher. “Here, sit down,” she instructed. When he complied, she kissed his forehead and gave him a warm smile. “Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts,” she commented as she quickly pulled over a tray of random medical supplies. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there any injuries I can’t see?” Y/n continued to interrogate worryingly.

“Honey,” Finnick smiled. He gently grasped y/n’s wrist as she softly tried to clean his skin.

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but I gotta clean it,” y/n explained, giving her husband a sympathetic frown.

Finnick grinned admiringly and shook his head. “It’s okay, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he explained softly. “Breathe Honey, I’m okay”. Finnick lovingly rubbed his thumb against the inner side of her wrist to soothe her.

Y/n set the washcloth down with a sigh. She wanted to help her husband. She looked around to take a quick inventory of the room. It had been awhile since she was last in this wing. Seeing a stack of cases of water bottles, she hummed and hurriedly sprinted to it. She effortlessly pulled out an unopened bottle and brought it back to Finnick with a small smile. Surely he was dehydrated! “Here, drink this, it’ll help.”

Finnick replied with a sympathetic sigh. He understood why she was fussing over him, he’d have been much worse if the roles were reversed. But, it didn’t mean he wanted her worrying so much. As such, he sipped on the water she’d passed him; not mentioning to her that on the flight back here, the nurse had hooked up an IV to help his fluids. After taking a considerable drink, he twisted the cap back on and took ahold of y/n’s hand. “Honey,” Finnick softly scolded, tugging her hand away from the water bottle as he tried to get her to stop fretting over him. “You look really good in my sweater,” he commented, changing the topic as he took notice of what his wife was wearing.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up, prompting her to bashfully look down at the stretcher’s wheels. She let her eyes flicker briefly to the sweater in question before biting her lip and slowly lifting her gaze to Finnick’s. “I.., sorry, I needed something that smelled and felt like you,” she explained.

Finnick shook his head, a prideful smile now gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize,” he commented lovingly as he tenderly guided her closer by curling his thumb resting under her chin. “Were you okay honey?”

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” y/n smiled. “That’s all that matters,” she hummed, leaning closer as she moved her hands to cup her husband’s defined cheeks.

“No, no,” Finnick argued. “How were you while I was away?” He repeated, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “What all happened? What did I miss?”

“Me,” y/n giggled with a smug smile.

Finnick chuckled, his cheeks turning a soft red. “Well that goes without saying, my dear,” he winked. After a moment of silent bliss, he turned his expression to a look that communicated he wanted her to give him an actual answer.

Y/n shrugged. She’d struggled while he’d been gone. But he didn’t need to know the depths of that. At least not right now. She knew her husband well enough to know it was futile keeping a secret from him. Even if it was for his own sake. He’d know at some point. For now though she would keep it as vague as possible without hurting his feelings by keeping it inside. “Nothing other than just worrying about you,” she murmured quietly, eyes closed.

Finnick frowned in understanding. “Oh love,” he purred, his fingers reaching out to grip the material of his her their sweater.

“I .. I got your message though,” y/n elaborated, peering into Finnick’s loving eyes.

Finnick grinned and tugged y/n closer to him. “Good,” he murmured, fingers moving to trail her cheeks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about your death like that again though, Finnick Odair,” y/n scolded in a soft voice.

Finnick chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Odair,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/n was resting beside Finnick’s medical cot in the hospital corridor of District 13 when she felt him stir. She quickly set down her notebook and faced her husband. She frowned lightly as she noticed the confused look in his eyes. He had been sleeping when the medic came in to adjust the medication dosage coursing through his veins. It had been like this off and on for the last few hours, so y/n hadn’t paid much mind to it until she felt him stir beside her in response to it.

Finnick tried to keep the tears from building up in his eyes as he tried to scoot away from whoever the person was beside him. He had thought he made it back to y/n, to District 13. But he didn’t remember being put under and upon opening his eyes he saw a nurse-like figure standing before him in a medical room so clearly he’d been dreaming. Of course he had. He’d been dreaming of his precious wife and making it back to her ever since he’d been reaped for the second time. He didn’t recall anything after the arena collapsing in on him. He thought he had, but he had clearly been dreaming of those events. So he figured he must’ve been captured after their attempt to escape the games. As such, he presumed this nurse before him was from The Capitol. It was the only explanation for why his wife wasn’t by his side when he thought he’d reconnected with her earlier. Hence why he began resisting the medic’s attempts to adjust whatever they were pumping into his body through the IV in his right arm.

“No, no, no, no, no, hey,” y/n rushed out, turning to face Finnick more directly. “Finnick? Hi, I've got you,” she informed him as his frantic eyes darted to her face. “You're safe. Finnick, can you hear me?” She asked, noticing the distant look in his sea-green eyes. “They're here to help you, you need to let them help you,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand.

Finnick’s eyes snapped down to his hand as he felt a squeeze. He looked back up at y/n and gazed into her eyes as the pieces returned to him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had escaped the games. He’d made it back to y/n. She’d been beside him the whole time. He just hadn’t looked to his left upon waking up.

“That’s it, babe,” y/n cooed encouragingly. “They are just helping your body heal,” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Finnick hummed in relief. His hands moved to wrap around his wife. He held onto her as he tried desperately to not cry against her shoulder. He was home. He was back with his girl.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Finnick pouted playfully. To emphasize his point, he stretch his right hand and the attached IV over his lap to poke y/n’s side.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at her husband in question. She’d been giving him plenty of attention. In fact, she was certain he had to be growing tired of her constant presence and fussing over him. “You need more attention?” She questioned knowingly.

Finnick nodded with a smug smile. “From you? Always,” he grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly as her cheeks flushed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

Finnick resumed playing with y/n’s hand he was holding. “The luckiest,” he agreed proudly.

Y/n simply bashfully bit her lip and buried her head against Finnick’s bicep as it rested on his cot.

“I’m tired of laying here in this stupid bed though,” Finnick said to explain his earlier comment.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed. She lifted her head off his arm to look down at him.

“I want to go home,” Finnick said, almost whining.

Y/n frowned. “I know, I do too,” she acknowledged. “But, Finnick, we have to stay in District Thirteen until it’s safe to go back,” she reminded him cautiously.

Finnick shook his head. “I know, I didn’t mean home-home”.

“What?”

“Not as in District Four,” Finnick elaborated. “While that would be nice,” he hummed, “I meant wherever it is here that our home is now, wherever you spend your nights”.

Y/n smiled adoringly at her husband. “Let me go ask them again when you can leave, I doubt it’s changed, but if you promise me you’re feeling okay, I’ll try to persuade them,” she offered.

“I promise,” Finnick nodded with an appreciative smile. He tugged y/n’s hand back just as she went to head towards the hallway, “but be quick”. When her head whipped around quickly, her eyes full of concern, he blushed before hurriedly explaining his thoughts. “‘Cause I missed you,” he whispered shyly, grinning again when his wife kissed the top of his head lovingly.

Y/n closed the door to their bedroom behind her as she and Finnick entered the hall. She turned towards her husband with a timid smile. They were about to head out for a light stroll so she could show him around. “Can I hold your hand?” She requested quietly, needing to physically feel his presence to remind her he was here after so long.

Finnick smiled, “you never gotta ask, sugar”. He kissed his wife’s warm cheek. “But, I have a better idea”.

“Which is?”

“Piggy back ride?"

“Finnick,” y/n scolded, shaking her head. “You should be taking it easy,” she reminded him. When he playfully rolled his eyes, she glared protectively back at him.

Finnick hummed and took ahold of y/n’s hands. “I promise I’m fine, honey. I wouldn’t put you through dealing with the aftermath if I wasn’t,” he promised.

Despite Finnick having convinced y/n he was able to give her a piggy back ride, she wasn’t done being protective over him. She’d just gotten her husband back! She wasn’t about to let something happen to him! As such, she had been doing everything under the sun to protect him from even minor things like loud noises, bright lights, etc.

Finnick knew what y/n was doing and her reasoning behind it. So, he’d complied with her wishes and heeded her warnings, all while smiling bashfully. He was beyond appreciative of his wife’s considerate measures. And he found her actions insanely cute.

They couple had taken a quick break so y/n could help one of District 13’s other residents find the supplies closet. Luckily the room was nearby, so she was not away from her husband for more than a handful of minutes. However, when she returned, she was less than pleased. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Y/n hissed at Mike, one of District 13’s leaders. He was evidently having her husband help him move some boxes of equipment. Y/n knew the boxes with the particular symbol that was on the one Finnick had been about to pick up were often pretty heavy. It was certainly not something Finnick should be doing right now! “He just got back, have Gale help you with carrying that!” She critiqued with a harsh glare.

Finnick sucked in his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh lightly or smile at y/n’s behavior. He shrugged minimally at the man beside him before he made his way over to his wife. “I’m okay, angel,” he cooed in a hushed voice so only she could hear.

Y/n nodded silently in response to Finnick’s reassurance. She gave Mike another sharp glance and then took her husband’s hand and led him away from the room.

Finnick froze momentarily before he stiffly turned to face y/n. They’d been eating lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria when he suddenly heard her sniffle. Why was she crying? “Are… are... are these good tears? Or bad tears?" He asked quietly. He only got a hum in response, making his brows furrow further. “Y/n?”

“Both”.

“Both?”

Y/n nodded. When she felt Finnick’s worried eyes on her, she shrugged. “Bad cause I missed you and I was so worried,” she explained. “But, good cause you’re home now”. She knew she was speaking in broken sentences, but it was the best she could do right now without breaking down from her emotions.

“Sugar,” Finnick whined sympathetically. “My sweet girl.. I’m so sorry-”.

Y/n rapidly shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Finny,” she whispered lovingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to. I just, I don’t know I just…”

“Shhh...just let me hold you,” Finnick instructed warmly. He knew how to make his wife feel better. He grinned as she wasted no time sliding down the bench to him and snuggling up. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

“Promise?”

Finnick swore his heart both soared and broke over the sweet but scared tone of y/n’s voice. “I promise angel,” he vowed, smiling to himself as she buried herself in his hold even further.

“No, no, you need to lie still,” y/n instructed as Finnick yet again fidgeted. There were resting in their shared bed, almost about to fall asleep when he’d begun tossing and turning.

Finnick turned to face his patient wife’s beautiful face. He batted his long eyelashes at her. “Baby, could you play with my hair?” He requested in a gentle whisper. He closed Jo’s eyes as y/n instantly complied with his wish. “That feels so nice,” he murmured.

“Good,” y/n smiled, her fingers dancing through Finnick’s sun-dyed golden locks.

“I missed you,” Finnick whispered blissfully.

Y/n smirked playfully. “You missed my fingers in your hair,” she teased.

“No,” Finnick argued, holding y/n’s wrist to stop her playing with his hair for a moment. He turned his head to look up at her. “I’m serious, I missed you,” he replied with a frown.

“Hmmm, I know sweetheart,” y/n informed her husband, craning her neck to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

“I was so worried about you,” Finnick admitted as his mind went back to his worries over y/n’s wellbeing during his time in the arena.

“I’m never letting you go again,” y/n declared warmly. She tightened her grip around Finnick’s chest as he peered up at her at an angle from where he lay on her torso. “Snow will have to pry you from my dead arms. No one is going to hurt you anymore Finnick,” she spoke protectively.

“Hmm,” Finnick hummed as he inched his way up. He kissed her head lightly before lowering himself back down to use her as a pillow. “Don’t talk like that, honey,” he scolded lovingly. “I’m not losing you either.” He closed his eyes as he turned so his cheek was pressed up against her chest. “We’ll finish this out together, that’s the only option. Okay?”

“Okay,” y/n agreed quietly as she hugged Finnick tightly. “Now, sleep, my love. I'll keep you safe."

Y/n woke abruptly as she felt her husband tossing around beside her in bed. Her eyes snapped opened as she heard his whispered cries. A frown instantly formed on her face as she quickly sat up and turned to face Finnick. She softly shook him. “Finnick.. It’s me, it’s y/n. It's okay, it was just a dream." When his eyes finally opened, they were wide and watery as they analyzed their bedroom. “You're not there, Finnick. You're home, you're safe,” she promised, being able to read his worries without needing any verbal explanation as to what he’d been afraid of.

“Fuck, I …,” Finnick winced slightly, hating that he’d cursed in front of his dear wife. He was also so proper around her, declaring she was too precious to hear such profanities. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He felt horrible for having woken her. He knew how tired she’d been from sleepless nights as she waited for him to return. She should be asleep… not taking care of him and his nightmares. He knew she didn’t mind, she’d helped him through similar ones countless times before. But still, she should be resting. “I’m sorry.., I didn’t… I was back at the-,” he began rambling quietly.

Y/n nodded quickly and squeezed his clammy hand. “It’s okay, I know sweetheart,” she cut him off so he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. “What do you need? What can I do for you right now Finny?”

Finnick’s shiny eyes lifted to meet his wife’s compassionate face and he gave her a timid smile. “I just want to be held for a little while. I’ve missed your touch,” he murmured.

Y/n smiled warmly and opened her arms. “Come here baby,” she instructed as she pulled Finnick to her chest.

Finnick shuffled down the bed so he could rest his head back on y/n’s chest. Like he’d done hours ago, before he’d moved to her side so they could sleep. “Like I expected, you're much comfier than my pillow,” he muttered softly as he nuzzled into her.

Y/n grinned and craned her neck in order to kiss Finnick’s scalp.

Finnick’s fingers played with the material of y/n’s sleep top. “D-do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” He questioned hesitantly. He wanted her to sleep, but he really needed this.

“We can stay like this as long as you want sweetheart.”

Finnick hummed in relief and snuggled against y/n further. His eyes began to become heavy again, but he kept blinking to stay awake.

“I'll protect you. They've never going to touch you again,” y/n promised, playing with Finnick’s hair the way he adored and always seemed to soothe him. As she noticed his eyes looking tired, she slowed her combing movements slightly. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now”.

Y/n futilely tried to pull her muscular husband away from the cracked door. They’d been on their daily walk when they passed by the mission center which happened to have it’s door slightly parted. However, it was what had been playing on the screen inside the room and the sounds it caused to float into the hallway that caught Finnick’s attention. The crew in the mission center had seemingly been reviewing various clips from the latest games. Unfortunately, it turned out they happened to be passing by just as Mag’s death began to play.

“No,” Finnick argued weakly against y/n’s attempts to pull him away. “I deserve to watch this,” he croaked. “I caused it, I need to live with the pain of that”.

Y/n gritted her jaw and furrowed her brows. She had to keep her anger in check. She wasn’t mad at Finnick, just at his statement. Her precious husband didn’t deserve any of the atrocities he’d had to endure. “You've suffered through enough,” y/n declared firmly but kindly, pulling her husband’s head to her shoulder. She whispered loving words to him as she lead them down the hall and back to their room.

As they reached the doorway to their bedroom, Finnick pulled back. His eyes were red and dripping, lips in a deep frown, and nose scrunched. “I also failed before the games, I didn’t make sure you had a safety plan in place,” he argued.

“Finnick, you had Haymitch make sure I was picked up and taken here, too District Thirteen before the games even began, for my safety,” y/n argued. “Besides, sweetheart, that’s not your job. And I’m fine, please don’t burden yourself with that”.

Finnick shook his head. “I should’ve found a way to tell Mags the plan,” he sighed. “I should’ve found a way out of letting Snow sell my body,” he added. “Katniss had me in her crosshairs early on, I didn’t train enough after the last games”. “I promised you that I’d never let you down but I did”.

”Finnick Odair,” y/n gasped. “Look at me.” Once he finally met her gaze, she presented him with a small smile and a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you”. She shook her head inside the crook of his neck. “Seriously, none of those things are true or your fault”. “You have always had so many things working against you, Finnick. I’ve always been so proud of you, even without taking that into account. But you need to. I’m so proud of you baby, you did what you had to do and came back to me! I know it wasn’t easy by any means,” she hummed, “but you did it. I didn’t lose you. And that’s because of you. I’m so proud. I’m infinitely sorry you had to go through all of that, but I’m so proud of you coming home to me”.

Finnick whimpered appreciatively and pulled y/n closer to him. He’d missed this. He’d needed her. He never wanted to be apart from her ever again. His sweet wife was his everything. If he had her, he’d be able to heal from his pain of the latest games.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I'm here if or when you want to,” y/n offered quietly as she and Finnick sat at the table for a late lunch. They’d been eating when someone who had passed by mentioned something to their friend about the latest games. Y/n had noticed the way Finnick tensed immediately. She figured he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but wanted him to know he could whenever he was.

Y/n had been correct. Finnick hadn’t been ready yesterday afternoon to talk about his experiences in the arena this past time. But, tonight he seemingly was. It was brought up unexpectedly, but she was pleased he felt comfortable and stable enough to begin talking about it.

Finnick had expressed several thoughts about his experiences in the arena when a question came to his tired mind. “Did… Did you watch?” He asked quietly as y/n helped him undress due to his fatigued state. He watched as she hesitated in her movements for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted quietly. She lifted Finnick’s shirt over his head and tossed it towards the bin. “I… didn’t really want to,” she admitted, “I hated that you had to go, to do that all again”. She sighed and her fingers trailed down to help him step out of his jeans. “But I needed to know you were okay,” she explained slowly, “and I wanted to be able to understand what you went through.,. As much as possible that is, of course…” She helped hold him steady as he removed his pants. “That way if you didn’t want to talk about it or needed someone to understand slightly more than I would’ve without watching it…,” she rambled.

Finnick turned to face y/n, a tender smile on his lips. “You..,” he shook his head, “sugar, you’re far too sweet, you didn’t need to put yourself through that. But I appreciate you doing so and being so considerate of my potential needs to begin with”. He kissed her forehead delicately.

As Finnick began to try to help y/n undress for the night, she shook her head lovingly and stopped him. He was so exhausted. He didn’t need to help her tonight. “I’ve got it baby, you’re tired,” she spoke softly.

“I want to,” Finnick argued quietly, “if you’re okay with that! I don’t-”.

Y/n nodded quickly to silence Finnick’s worries. “I am, Finny. Just don’t want you overdoing it,” she mused, kissing his cheek.

Finnick hummed and resumed his efforts to help y/n out of her day clothes. “Is there… was there anything you saw that you want to talk about?” He asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment. But, upon meeting Finnick’s genuinely curious eyes, she sighed. “…l heard you crying my name,” she said, thinking back to the moment she’d watched her husband crumple to the floor of the arena in agony.

Finnick gave y/n a sympathetic smile, sensing her worry and needless guilt. “I just needed to hear your voice, to know you weren’t actually hurt,” he explained. “I know they were fake. But.. you were…? You’re alright?”

Y/n nodded and grabbed Finnick’s hands from her shoulder and squeezed them. “I was just upset I couldn’t be there to reassure you I was fine,” she informed him. “But, I wasn’t hurt. Do you want to tell me about what it was like, babe? Get it off your chest?"

Finnick looked away as he began to cry. “S-sorry,” he murmured quietly in apology. “I shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be crying. I.. I’m stronger than that… I’m sorry honey… I…”

“Finn,” y/n cooed. She let go of his hands and moved hers to cup his face and guide it towards her. When his eyes met hers, she gave him n a sweet smile. “Sweetheart, you never need to apologize to me. Ever. And, certainly not for crying…”.

Finnick nodded and melted into his wife’s embrace. “I… I thought it was real,” he began. “I… they copy… and it was your voice. I know it! It was so accurate! I…,” he shook, prompting y/n to rub his back soothingly. “I thought they’d hurt you.. that The Capitol.,. Snow…,” He trailed off.

“I think.. I thought about that a bunch too,” y/n murmured. “I think those sounds were made using by mixing up and splicing recordings from my games years ago, Finny.”

“I should’ve known that,” Finnick scolded himself. “I’m,” he sniffled as more tears escaped his eyes. He knew she might be watching the games and hadn’t wanted y/n to see him break down the way he had in that moment. He’d promised her he’d be strong and make it back to her. Yet all it took was some old audio clips and he’d shattered. He couldn’t deny the heartbreak he’d felt hearing her screams and cries. But he should’ve held it together. “I’m sorry.. I should’ve been stronger than that, I-“.

“No, Finnick. No,” y/n argued protectively. She leaned up and kissed his nose. “I don’t need you being strong all the time. I just need you. Vulnerabilities and all. Because that’s the real you, that’s all of you. And I love the whole real you.” She grinned as a bashful smile formed on her husband’s lips. “It’s all over now, Finny. No more having to pretend to be someone else for the cameras. You can just be yourself from now on. Just my wonderful Finnick Odair,” she cooed. As he leaned into her, she paid attention to his tears. She continued to sweetly dry them as she whispered loving words. After a few minutes, he’d stopped crying and was just resting in her embrace. “Fin, it's so good to have you home,” she whispered.

“I missed this,” Finnick confessed quietly.

“So did I.”

“You’re my happy place.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me,” y/n teased as Finnick stepped back so they could resume getting into bed for the night.

“I was away from you too long,” Finnick defended simply. “I gotta make up for the missed chances to flirt with my beautiful wife,” he winked, smirking as y/n looked away flustered.

“What can I do for you right now Finnick?” Y/n questioned as she faced him and saw his tears had returned.

“All I want is your lips against mine right now,” Finnick informed y/n. His cheeks turned brighter and brighter red until they matched the color of his teary eyes. “It sounds stupid, but I want to also physically feel your love-” he attempted to explain, feeling he needed to justify his request.

However, y/n didn’t need any reason to kiss her sweet husband. She quickly slid her hands into his hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Both y/n and Finnick cried quietly into the kiss as they moved impossibly closer to each other. It had been far too long since they felt this secure and untroubled over the other. When they pulled back, they instinctively rested their foreheads against each other’s, staring at one another. “I love you,” they whispered at the same time as they felt a small piece of their broken hearts begin to repair.

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[green-typewriterz]

finnick odair horse riding fic. put that man in a polo shirt put that man on the beach with a pony

The sand was never real but we pretended it was

Finnick Odair x gn!reader Summary: you and Finnick spend time together before the 75th games are announced, going horseriding and trying to stay away from the cameras Warnings: fluff. Pretty much pure fluff word count: 762

its like 3 words squared but here u go slay enjoy ur man on a horse

Finnick often reminisced to you about the white sand beaches in District Four and how he could swim every morning without pathetic prying eyes and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Having won your games at eighteen, you had had the chance to have most of a reasonable childhood over in District Seven, keeping the people around you safe and gardening until your hands were sore, but Finnick didn’t get that luxury.

So, one morning - after weeks of meticulous planning - you had managed to convince Finnick to go on a quiet walk with you around the capitol. You had secretly packed him a pair of navy blue board shorts and a matching blue costume for you. When you got near the destination, you put your hands over his eyes and led him toward the makeshift beach that you had begged a particularly rich District One victor to help you make.

“Y/N/N? What’s going on?” He asked with excitement in his voice. He gasped in shock when his feet sunk into the memorable feeling of sand and he removed your hands from his eyes to see a small beach next to the coast of the Capitol. He turned to you with a giddy smile. “You did all of this for me?” He asked, pulling you into a hug.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him as you spoke, “You said you missed the beach so I got my hands dirty.” He laughed and picked you up, spinning you in his arms and whispering ‘I love you’ into your ear as many times as he could. You both sat in the sand for a while, blissful, but not ignorant to the cameras that were inevitably watching and - though you couldn’t be quite as close as you had aimed - you both had the best time you had had for a long while.

It had reached midday when your friend arrived with the next present. “You mentioned you know how to horse ride.” You spoke and Finnick's eyes widened.

He walked toward the large brown horse and began to stroke its mane gently, smiling at how much effort you put into today. “Correction, knew,” he replied and turned to face with an amused look in his eye. “But I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” You laughed as he climbed up onto the horse.

He had surprisingly done pretty well, having not fallen once yet - you assumed it was the calm temperament of the horse. He rode for a long while and you joined him every now and then, him coaxing you up onto the steed so he could show you the reigns, but you both eventually agreed that it wasn’t really your thing.

You watched in awe as his blonde hair ruffled gently in the wind and how effortlessly perfect he looked. It was as if he was always meant to be there. Now in his board shorts, you couldn’t help but admire his perfect body, his skin sunkissed and slightly freckled. He never was a fan of the scars that hid there, but you always assured him they were beautiful and showed that he was strong. He was perfect up there. Well, until he fell off. You instantly ran over to check on him and found him pretty much face down on the floor. You shook him but he didn’t respond, until he rolled over onto his back, roaring with laughter. You hit his shoulder gently, not in annoyance but more in relief - you weren’t sure how to describe it.

He took you by your waist and pulled you on top of him, the both of you comfortable against the warm sand of the beach. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips repeatedly, his hands gently caressing your waist. Then, without warning, you rolled over so he knelt over you and tackled him to the ground, starting an impromptu wrestling match that quickly ended when you kissed his neck in an attempt to distract him (which worked perfectly).

You both watched the sunset on the beach, hands holding one another as the brilliant amber hues shone in the sky. Though you had to be reasonably discrete so Capitolites wouldn’t catch you, today had been the perfect blend of relaxation and fun, something you had a feeling you weren’t going to feel again for a long while. You sighed in contentment as the stars began to shine, knowing that - no matter what - you would fight to spend every day with Finnick, for the rest of your life.

[lilmaymayy]

oh my this finnick is makin me feel things, HES SO PROTECTIVE😫😫

Reporter Madness

Summary: the reporters had never been much of a problem until now

Warnings: cursing, hints to past toxic relationship, violence

A/N: a special thanks to @knight-day for being extremely helpful and teaching me about f1

A Day at the Races Masterlist

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

The lights flashed over and over, giving you no time to recover from the momentary blindness that each one would make you experience.

Though you had been through this many times before, that didn't mean it made it any easier. You doubted one could just build an immunity towards the hundreds of cameras pointed at them. Let alone that added with the voices shouting directly at you, trying to make themselves heard over anyone else, to no avail.

Nobody could stand that.

Except for Finnick, of course.

Your boyfriend was a walking machine of charm and wit, a human shield against the sea of reporters that accompanied the two of you wherever you went.

When they were outside of the grocery store the two of you had run into for a moment to grab some snacks for a movie night, he would stand there with a laugh and joke for them to put into their articles.

Any time they would bombard you after a simple expedition to the cinema to see the newest action movie, he would smile brightly, as if the lights of the constant cameras were only being absorbed into his grin.

And you admired him for it. Of course you did. How couldn’t you? For the first few months of the two of you dating, you practically had a panic attack anytime you so much as spotted a paparazzi mob. But he never once seemed the slightest bit phased by it.

The only time his charm would ever fade and his smile would falter around them was when any of them were being exceptionally rude. Though they almost always were, he only took it personally when they took it too far.

“Finnick! How are you feeling about your chances for the WDC this year?”

“Any comments on winning last Saturday's race?”

“What is it like to have Peeta Mellark as a teammate?”

As soon as the two of you stepped foot outside of the fancy restaurant he had just gotten you reservations for, you were bombarded with the questions and cameras.

Finnick smiled politely, just wanting to get back home today, not really in the mood to answer their questions, and squeezed your intertwined hand gently. A silent reassurance that you would be out of there soon and back home, snuggling on your couch.

With your hand still firmly grasped in his, he began to follow behind his security that was making a path through the crowd for the two of you and towards the car.

Normally, the questions would keep flowing, but you would make it to the car with little to no trouble. Not tonight though. Tonight, the paparazzi and reporters were ruthless. They seemed to be out for blood.

Even when the security guards tried to keep them at bay, they surged forwards, fighting back against the form that they were being kept in.

That was when the panic really began to set in for you.

The lights were suddenly becoming too bright. The questions too loud. Your senses were being taken over, you could hardly breathe.

It was then that you felt the first hand on your arm. A hand that was large and rough. A hand that was not Finnicks. And it pulled you back.

You flinched back suddenly in surprise, accidentally dropping your boyfriend's hand in the process.

That was how they found their opening.

Immediately, at least half of them pushed their way in between you and Finnick, separating you even further and just continuing to push you more and more away from him as you backed up with wide eyes full of fear.

The hand of a large, disgusting looking man was still gripped on your arm, and you gasped, quickly stumbling out of his hold.

You could only imagine the pictures they were getting of this. Of the famed Formula 1 driver being separated from his terrified and pathetic girlfriend that couldn’t handle the reporters on her own.

“How does it feel being Odair's girlfriend?”

“Do I hear wedding bells anytime soon?”

“I heard that you missed one of Finnick's races last week to go eat lunch with another man. Any comment?”

“Rumor has it that your last relationship didn't go well for you. Would you like to confirm or deny this?”

That last question hit too close to home and you flinched back violently. As if you had been struck.

Those words began bouncing back and forth in your head. Opening old wounds and bringing back memories you had tried so, so hard to push away.

It felt as if your lungs were collapsing. The lights were all blurring together. You didn’t know how much longer you could-

“Sir! We need to get you to the car!”

A voice. One you recognized as one of Finnick's security finally carried through, above the roaring of the crowd, and reached your ears. Instead of your boyfriend answering is guard, he was calling out your name at the top of his lungs.

Hearing it fall from his lips was like a breath of fresh air that you so desperately needed.

That was when you finally spotted him, forcefully pushing passed reporters with no regard for whatever expensive equipment they were holding or whether or not they were toppling into one another.

No longer was there a grin on his face, his eyes were void of that twinkle you loved so much. Instead, it was replaced with a look of desperation and worry, his lips pulled into a straight line.

You moved on shaky legs as you tried to clear the rest of the way towards him. Towards the safety of his hold.

Finally, he broke through the last of the reporters and immediately pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight protectiveness that you couldn’t help but sag into in relief.

“Dove,” He breathed out in your ear, relief as evident in his voice as it was in your actions, “It’s okay, you’re okay now.”

You hadn’t even realized that you had begun crying until you felt the wetness of the tear stain you had left on his suit when you burrowed your face into his chest.

“Come on,” Very reluctantly, he passed you over to one of the older, kind security guard, and let him begin to lead you over to the car.

“Wait,” Your voice came out strained and cracked and you dug your heels into the ground, “What are you-“

Finnick turned on his heel, a look of raw anger resting on his face. It was a look you hadn’t seen from him. Not since you told him about your last relationship.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He roared at the entirety of the reporters, effectively silencing them for the first time. He had stunned them into silence. Never had he acted out like this in public. Ever.

“Why the hell would you ever think it was okay to do something like that?” Then his eyes narrowed in on one individual. The one that had pulled you away from him in the first place, “And you,” He seethed, marching right up to him and grabbing him by the collar, “Don’t you dare ever touch my girl again.”

With that, Finnick reeled his fist back, the man too dumbfounded to even react, and punched the man square in the jaw. A sickening crack following it.

A look of disgust accompanied the blond's face when he dropped the man and took a step back. Standing there for a moment and letting exactly what he had just done sink in.

Then, he turned on his heel to face you, and his features automatically softened and his shoulders relaxed, no longer in their stiff, tense position.

Quickly, he strode to you and wrapped his arm over your shoulders, tucking you into his side and gently leading you to the car.

Not a single reporter or paparazzi followed after him. Not when he shut the door harshly. Not when he informed the driver to speed away.

Finally, he turned to you, where you had sunken back into the leather seat and rested your head back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Oh, Dove,” He whispered, gently moving his hand forward and gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You opened your teary eyes, “I’m sorry,” You choked out.

Finnicks eyes immediately furrowed, “No, no,” He said softly, “Nothing about that was your fault. Those assholes never should have done that.”

Your eyes widened upon realization of something and you shot up in your seat in panic, “Your hand.” You rushed out, quickly taking his larger one into your own hands and examined the knuckles that had just been used to knock a man unconscious.

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly at your concern, “I’m alright, Dove,” He reassured you, “Nothing a little ice won’t fix.”

You dropped his hand and began to nervously fidget with your own fingers, “Word of this is gonna get out fast. This won’t be good publicity.”

Gently, he took your chin between two of his fingers and lifted your face so that he could place a ginger kiss on your forehead.

Then, he looked you in the eyes, “I don’t care,” His voice was soft, but stern, “I don’t care the slightest bit. I probably still would have done that if they had only separated us. But he- he… touched you,” The words pained him to say, “I was not going to just let that go.”

“But-“ You tried to argue.

“No buts.” He cut you off with a shake of his head, “And as for the publicity, good. I hope everyone knows what will happen if they ever dare touch you, Dove.”

You stared into his devastatingly beautiful green eyes for a moment, searching for something- anything- that would contradict his statement. But when you found nothing, you just gently laid your head on his chest and let your eyes flutter shut.

“You’re okay, Dove, you’re okay,” He whispered, unconsciously running his fingers through your hair, seeming to try and convince himself more than you.

Taglist: none yet

[drfleetflower]

HG Scenario: How they would confess their feelings.

~Requested~

Pairings: Peeta Mellark, Gale Hawthorne, Finnick Odair x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 2.3k

Credit to Delaney Bailey - Love Letter From the Sea to the Shore

Peeta Mellark:

Peeta is quite the nervous wreck. He has his moments of confidence, sure, but when it comes to you… Well, confident is definitely not what he would describe himself. 

If he knew you felt the same way, things would be different, but it’s so hard to tell how you feel about him. He doesn’t want to ruin everything by showing his interest. He was certain you would never speak to him again if you didn’t feel the same. Once he confessed his feelings, there was no going back. And, these thoughts were completely rational. Absolutely. Haymitch was wrong when he said you would still be his friend. Who in their right mind would be friends with him after they knew all he thought about was spending the rest of his life with them? When they knew his hand itched to hold theirs everytime they were near. And don’t get him started on the thought of kissing you.

He shook the thought away once he stepped up to your door. This was it. The end or the beginning. 

He lifted his hand to knock on your door but before he could, you opened it. “Oh! Hi Peeta!” You smiled, slightly startled but still happy to see him.

Peeta fumbled to reply. This was immediately not going as he planned. “Hi.” He finally choked out after several seconds of what he felt to be awkwardness. 

“I was just going to head to the Hob, did you need something?” You asked, not moving to leave just yet.

“Yes…” He paused, pondering on how to proceed. “What are you getting at the Hob?”

“Just soap. There’s a new shop that makes some.” You answered, cool as a cucumber. He envied your poise right now. Though, you weren’t the one about to bear your soul out.

“I’ll come with you.” He decides.

You agree and as the two of you walk to the Hob, Peeta’s pulse is racing. You walk in silence, with Peeta repeatedly looking over at you, his palms getting damp. 

Once you purchase your soap, he has worked up the courage to speak. “Do you want to go to the meadow?” He asked, “I want to tell you something.”

“Okay.” You said after a moment, suddenly feeling nervous yourself.

There. Step one was done. 

Then, step two.

The two of you took a seat in the tall, dandelion filled, grass. Peeta twirled a strand of grass around his finger, procrastinating. 

“What did you want to tell me?” You urged gently.

He sighed, picking up a dandelion and blowing the little wisps out into the air. He decided to just come right out and say it. “I love you. More than anyone. I think about you all the time and I can’t keep it to myself anymore. If you don’t feel the same, I understand if you never want to see me again.”

You stare at him stunned. “What? Why would I never want to see you again?”

Peeta looked right into your soul. “Y/n. Please just answer.” His voice was pleading.

“I love you too.” 

His eyes almost bulged out of his head. “Really?”

“Do you think I would joke about that?” You chuckled, pretending to be offended.

He shook his head, staring at you like you were water in a desert. You smiled at him and his eyes were drawn to your lips. He couldn’t help himself, his body was now magnetized to yours. He leaned in. 

But you put your finger against his lips. “Don’t you want to buy me dinner first?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“If you want.”

You looked at him like he was the sweetest, craziest guy you’d ever met. “I wasn’t ready so I made a stupid joke. I’m ready now. Did I ruin the moment?” You suddenly feel guilty.

“Moment? I don’t just love you for the moment. I love you. Always. That could never be ruined. I will kiss you whenever you let me.” He assured.

“Then kiss me.” You answered.

His lips met yours quickly, it wasn’t the world’s most intimate kiss, it was a lot like a starved man eating. But, it was certainly passionate and that was all you needed right now. You kissed him back with the same fervor and the same gentleness that he still gave you, even when he really was starved. Who knew how long he had been wanting to kiss you?

When he tore himself away from you, all he could do was stare at you like you were the greatest treasure ever discovered and mumble, “Wow…”

Gale Hawthorne:

Gale let his feelings for you fester inside him for far too long and he beat himself up for never having the courage to just shout that he was falling for you. 

There would be moments when conversation between you would pause. You would stare at each other for a long moment, no longer needed words to converse, and his mind would scream at him to do something. He felt like his whole body was on fire, like there were a million ants crawling on his skin, like he was being zapped by one hundred volts of electricity. But he would never show it. And, he hated himself for it. Instead, he would turn his head and take a deep breath of the woods air, pretending to be perfectly content. 

His control was beginning to crack, though. One wrong step on thin ice away from confessing every thought he’s ever had about you. So, he had to do it now before he did something he would absolutely regret. 

Earlier in the day he invited you to the woods, as he often did, to set snares. Something you were terrible at. It gave him the excuse to help you. And, you would be distracted without the slightest suspicion that he was going to set his heart on a silver platter in front of you. 

Gale waited for your arrival, leaning against a tree. He was almost precisely where the electric fence that separated the Seam from the woods used to be. He twisted some of its old wire around a stick, preparing traps for the day. Just a few. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” He teased as he heard you approach. He looked up from his snare and forced a casual smile, even in the most casual of settings you look too good to be true.

“What’s that?” You got close to him, look at what was in his hand. He swore you did it on purpose.

“It’s going to be a snare. Have you learned nothing from hunting with me all the time?” He handed it to you with a slight smile before heading into the woods, if he stayed close to you any longer he’d pass out from holding his breath. 

The two of you spent the day like usual, some talk, mostly silence as you trekked through the woods, placing new snares and checking on old. Gale helped you with every snare you set, you insisted he did. His hands rested over yours and guided you through each one. They were warm and felt natural holding yours. 

He liked helping you, more than he’d ever admit, and he indulged in it often. But, even so, he never kept his hands over yours longer than he had to. He feared if his touch lingered just a second longer, he’d never let go.

As the day came to an end, the two of you rested in a clearing, snacking on some berries and bread. Silence engulfed you and in the silence you got a mischievous idea. As Gale was contemplating how to articulate his emotions, you threw a blueberry at his cheek. 

He was startled, which didn’t happen often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he was caught off guard like that. No, actually that was a lie. He remembered very clearly the last time he was caught off guard was when Vick had nudged him in the ribs and asked when the wedding between you two was. 

Gale promptly picked the blueberry and threw it back at you. Unfortunately for him, you caught it in your mouth, biting down with a look of victory on your face. And so, this was the challenge now. The two of you threw berry after berry into the air, testing each other with each toss. 

You almost lost with the final blueberry, catching it just at the corner of your mouth, purple staining your lips. And before you could rub your win in his face, his thumb came up to wipe your lip and you both went silent again. This time the silence was loud. 

Gale’s hand didn’t leave your face, nor did his thumb cease rubbing your lip. He couldn’t look you in the eye and you could see how hard he was clenching his jaw. When you leaned ever so slightly closer, he couldn’t take it anymore and his lips met yours. 

You kissed him back, tugging him closer by his shirt. Neither of you let go even as you were panting for air. He only pulled back when he heard the snapping of a twig. 

“I think I messed this up.” Gale said, once he finally looked you in the eyes. 

“Huh?” You breathed.

“I was supposed to tell you I love you first.” His eyes trailed down to your lips again.

“I think I got the hint.” You chuckled.

“Did you?”

“Maybe not.”

So, he kissed you again.

Finnick Odair:

Finnick flirts with everyone. Everyone. And it was no different with you. He liked to let out a low whistle whenever he walked past you, and winked whenever you looked up. He could tell you got jealous when he did this with anyone else, but he would never be so casual with anyone but you. 

He was simply confident and liked attention, whether that was received or given. He liked getting to know people. Especially you. He revelled in learning new things about you, it meant he could show you he cared in all sorts of ways. You like when he picks you up? Expect to never feel your feet touch the ground again. 

It seemed so obvious to him that he liked you that he was surprised when you said he was only flirting with you because he flirted with everyone. Now, that couldn’t be farthest from the truth. He flirts with each person for a reason. Most of the time the reason is it’s fun, but it’s so different with you. When he flirts with you it’s because he wants you to do it back, it’s because he loves when you get flustered because of him. 

And, it’s not like he doesn’t also absolutely dote on you. He doesn’t do that for anyone else. He’s kind, of course. He helps people out in need. He helps you out in want and he helps you out in bare minimum inconvenience. 

Finnick represents all of the love languages but physicality is something he takes very seriously. How could you not notice that you’re one of the only people he lets hug him, or touch him at all really? And vice versa?

And he doesn’t make jewelry for just anyone. Those matching friendship bracelets meant more than friendship to him. 

Clearly, he would have to spell this out for you. 

“Y/n.” Finnick said your name softly, almost like a purr. 

“Finnick.” You answered back.

He smirked and you felt you could die happy from the sight, even though you had seen it a thousand times. Perhaps, it felt different when the two of you were bathed in the soft hues of the sunset. 

He wiped your cheek gently, claiming there to be sand stuck to you. You didn’t see any, but maybe that was because you were staring at him, as you often did. 

“Y/n.” He spoke again, this time it was more of a sigh. 

You tilted your head. “Are you saying my name for fun now?” 

“It is rather nice to say. Rolls of the tongue.” He enunciated purposefully. 

“Mhm.” You hummed, wondering where this was going. Sometimes it felt like Finnick spoke in riddles. 

“I wrote a poem.” He suddenly declared. “A poem for you.” 

You raised a brow but it didn’t stop him from reciting it from memory.

“I think I loved you

In another life

Where I was the sea

And you were the shore”

His voice was silky, the smoothest you had ever heard it, and it made you want to wrap yourself up in it and stay there. You felt like you were in a trance, staring into his eyes as you got closer to each other. 

“Like the tourist comes back to the beach

I come back to you for more and more and more

Because you hold in my tide”

You felt yourself sink back into the sand, Finnick’s hands holding your waist and your head.

“I would die a thousand times

Just to see you in another life”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he finished the poem. “This isn’t funny.” You barely even whisper out.

“Good. I wasn’t trying to be.” He said, gazing into your eyes earnestly, his touch loving. “May I kiss you?”

You nod slowly for a few seconds before giving him a full response. “Yes.”

Finnick takes his time reaching your lips then, he first kisses your cheeks, forehead, nose. And when he does finally kiss your lips, it’s the most tender and meaningful kiss you’ve ever felt. It’s impossible to think of anything but him.

When your lips part, they part slowly, as if he’s trying to make the separation easier on the both of you. 

You really can’t think, only feel. But you do want one thing. “Can you read the poem again?”

He would do anything for you.

[nfr-girly]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘹

𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 👇

————————————————————————

Hasan piker

hasan x reader // looking after Kaya

in Italy with hasan

Hasan finding out you’re pregnant on stream

Engaged life with Hasan <3

Baking with Hasan

Co-parent with Hasan (text fic)

Co- parent with Hasan (pt 2)

Ted lasso

Come back to me series ~ Ted lasso x reader (finished)

Part 1 Part 2

Benedict Bridgerton

jealous Benedict

Bradley Bradshaw

Little Hope Series - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (unfinished)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

beach football with rooster

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Prologue

Pairing/s: undecided. Possibly Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, Weapons, Swearing, Mentions of readers family, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes, mentions of Avoxes, bad descriptions of capitol technology, (if I missed anything please tell me)

Word count: 6.0k

**********************+*****************

She stood in line, waiting for her turn to sign in. She was 18 this year. It was her last year until she could break free and resign death in the hunger games to her mind as simply a fearful memory. The line moved slowly, a few tearful 12 year olds calling for their mothers and fathers ahead of her. She remembered being that age, her first games reaping was a terrifying one as the girl next to her was picked. She could still remember her name “Lilac Hiddleswoft.” The 12 year old girl had died minutes into the 64th hunger games, the boy from 6 had killed her in the cornucopia. She was shaken from her thoughts as she was pushed forward, the peacekeeper at the front of the line pricking her finger and signing her in quickly.

She walked to stand with the other kids her age, admiring the sullen faces of those around her. She walked in line with everyone else, stopping a few spots from the middle of the pack of teens. The morning sun was blindingly hot, the desert breeze of district 2 blew dust into the lungs of its occupants. She looked to the stage, minimalistic with a few chairs and a microphone. She wondered what the escort would wear this year. A new skin color? More jewelry embedded into her skin? Anyway, she thought it seemed silly. Her mother had undergone many “enhancements” she always found them pretty but unnecessary. She liked her body well enough, a few improvements could be made but nothing too drastic.

The mayor and a few important people walked onto the stage, mainly victors with hollow eyes or so many surgeries they looked chronically surprised. She had always thought Enobaria was attractive in her own right….minus the teeth situation. She sat together with Brutus as always on the right side of the stage.

Finally the escort came to the stage, her hair shining rainbow in the heat like an oil slick. Y/N wondered how she had gotten it that color. She would admit the woman was pretty, her dark ebony skin always flawless with the embedded gems next to her completely white eyes. Her name was furisha la’fleur, a nepotism pick from the higher ups in district 2.

Furisha finally spoke after a beat “Hello district 2!” She exclaimed in her sickly sweet voice “happy hunger games!” District 2 was more or less the lapdogs of the capitol, their support ran deep. The crowd cheered and applauded, the sudden noise almost frightening. Furisha spoke again “First we have an exciting video from our capitol and beloved president!” She smiled almost too wide as the screen flickered, playing the same video it played every year. Y/N could quote it by this point, she focused on smoothing out any wrinkles in her dress. The white fabric soft against her fingers.

The video ended with a bang, more applause thundering throughout the town square. Furisha waited a moment for the applause to calm, clapping herself while walking to the spherical bowl to her right. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” She cheered into the microphone. She looked down at the bowl, doing her signature wrist flick “Ladies first!” She announced, reaching into the bowl and stirring her hand around. She soon pulled out a thick card stock, it was tinted grey with gold embossing as an extra flourish.

She read the name and the crowd fell silent, Y/N looked around for the chosen girl. Everyone around her stared, her brows furrowed. “It’s you” the girl beside her tapped her shoulder.

It couldn’t be her, this wasn’t the plan.

Her eyes widened in horror as she was quickly pulled out of line. Two peacekeepers herded her to the stage as she stared ahead blankly. Her ears rang as she walked up the steps next to furisha. Her only hope was a volunteer now, a braver soul. Her hand unconsciously went to hold her necklace, a gift from her step father on her first reaping day. Her stare was blank and hollow, as if she had nothing behind her eyes. Her hands shook and her vision filled with static. She felt like she could pass out and never wake up.

The crowd was silent still as furisha waited a moment for any volunteers. She looked around for her siblings, once she regained herself. a safe face to stare at as the impending doom set in. Nobody spoke up to take her place, furisha gave a simple nod and moved on. Her fate was set and she could do nothing about it. A boy was chosen next, age 12. He was skinny and tall for his age.

He started towards the stage fearfully before a boy shouted from the crowd. “I volunteer as tribute!” Her eyes turned to the voice, an academy boy jogged toward the stage. He was her age, she remembered him from her play group as a child. Finch Glenn was a tall boy, at least twice her size in width. His mop of curly dark hair flicked out of his eyes as he smiled and waved at the crowd. His bronze skin covered in freckles was similar to the rest of district 2, although he was obviously the pick of the litter.

Furisha told them to hold hands as they waved to the crowd and she did as she was told, unlike her companion however she did not smile or scream to the crowd. She simply waved, still in disbelief of her situation.

After a few moments of cheering the peacekeepers finally deemed it enough. They were led into the justice building and into separate rooms. Y/N’s family wasn’t poor but they certainly weren't rich either, she had never seen such fine furniture and decor.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers across the blue velvet couch, the buttons on the cushions were gold and caught her eye. She looked around the room, it was made of dark wood with marble floors. Paintings of different men hung on the wall, peacekeepers? The capitol elite? She had no idea who they were. She walked to a cabinet by the door, a plant sat atop it with luscious green vines hanging the edges. She gently examined one of the leaves, the vibrant green was beautiful.

A knock came from the door and it opened, 4 people rushing inside. All at once her mother and sister were hugging her, the former crying hysterically. They pleaded for her to stay alive, petting her hair and kissing her cheeks. It didn’t feel real, was this really happening?

Her step father stood in the corner of the room, it was clear that he had been crying. Their eyes met and he crumpled into himself a bit. Her mother captured her attention next. “You can be my brave girl can’t you baby?” She asked, talking to her like a small child. She couldn’t blame her mother, she knew the situation must be torture. Her mother had already seen the death of her husband and she couldn’t imagine the dread of losing a child.

Her brother hugged her next “you can win” he whispered simply to her, kissing her cheek for the first time in either of their lives. Her mother clung to her side, just wanting to hold her hand until the end of their time together.

Her stepfather walked to her, a sad smile on his face. “I can’t promise I’ll see you again so I need to tell you this now” he spoke softly “I need you to know how loved you are. You aren’t mine biologically but you’ll always be mine in here.” He pointed to his heart. “Your mother, your brother and sister and I will always be cheering you on. We love you more than anything.” *he said as tears came to his eyes.

He reached around her neck, unclasping the necklace he had once given her and putting it in his pocket. He then brought out a spherical pendant, it looked as if it was made from bronze. He stuck his nail under a small seam and it unfolded, a locket showing all 4 members of her family, her late father and herself. “We might not see you again” he repeated, closing the locket and holding it up to put it around her neck. “But I wanted you to be able to see us” he explained, fastening the clasp. “I had this made in case this ever happened and I’m so sorry you have to be the one to receive it sweetheart.” He said as tears fell from his cheeks.

Her sister let out a small whimper, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She was hanging back a bit from the rest of the family as Y/N was saying goodbye, no usual biting comments or banter. “you…. you better come home.” She choked out. she was trying to play off her emotions as usual, “who else am i supposed to fight over dumb stuff with?” She said with a sob. Y/N’s brother hugged her sister tight as she broke down.

Y/N’s family surrounded her, hugging and kissing her. She was determined to stay strong, she knew if she cried now it would only make things worse.

After a few minutes a few peacekeepers arrived at the door, it was time to say goodbye one final time. She kissed her mother’s cheek and hugged her siblings tight. She gave her step father a kiss on the cheek as well and as suddenly as they arrived they were gone.

She broke down seconds after the door closed, sobbing into the cushions of that blue velvet couch. She wanted her mother to come back, she wanted her sister to tell her to “man up” like usual. She sobbed for as long as tears could fall from her eyes and longer.

She had no idea how long she’d been in that room. 15 minutes? An hour? It didn’t matter. She was soon taken out of the room and down a long hallway. Finch joined her quickly and walked with confidence. His goodbye was not one of tears but of encouragement and words like “see you soon.” They set foot outside and were led to a train that would take them to the capitol. It was sleek and silver, just a long tube without any inclination that there were separate cars.

People screamed and cameras flushed as they walked, her senses overwhelmed. Finch waved and preened while she just walked quietly and quickly to the entrance. She stepped on and was in awe, it was beautiful. Crystal chandeliers glittered and food was spread over the redwood table in the center of the car.

She walked in further, Furisha sat in one of the chairs chatting with Brutus and Enobaria. They stood up at the entrance of the tributes, smiles on their faces. “Congratulations!” Furisha said in her usual almost condescending manner, Enobaria nodded at her with pity and Brutus simply ignored her in favor of Finch.

She was ushered to sit down, food being placed in front of her. “Eat, please” Furisha motioned. “You’ll need your strength for the games” she smiled. Finch dug in immediately and she grabbed a fork. This food was frivolously and immaculately decorated but delicious nonetheless. She ate her fill of the pasta in front of her, the sauce was purple and the noodles were green. It tasted of chicken and some sort of seasoning she couldn’t quite describe. It was cheesy and rich with a few leaves of spinach sprinkled throughout.

She sat back when she had finished, the table was filled with chatter. She listened a bit but soon grew tired of the unimportant conversation about the wig Furisha wanted to wear to the tributes parade. “could I be excused to go to bed please?” She interjected at a moment of silence. Furisha smiled and motioned for an avox to lead her to her room. “Of course you can, my darling” she replied, “but meet here in the dining room so you can strategize in the morning alright? We have a schedule to keep.” She requested. Y/N nodded quickly, standing and looking at the awaiting avox.

He led her to a large room, so large in fact that she wondered if it took up a whole car. The bed was covered in pillows and blankets, a canopy of thin silk like material covering it. The avox opened the closet, setting a black fluffy towel on the dresser in front of her. She presumed this meant he was asking if she wanted to shower. “Yes please” she answered softly, earning a nod from the man. He led her to the bathroom, it was made of sleek pink marble with bronze metal used for any trimmings. She took the towel in her arms and the man bowed at the door, closing it and leaving her alone once more. She took her shoes off, the heels clicking together as she picked them up off the floor and set them on the shelf by the door.

Next she unzipped her dress, stepping out of it and hanging it up neatly before stripping the rest of her underthings as well. She looked at the shower before her curiously, it was operated by a panel of buttons instead of a dial. She pressed a button, selecting hot water and a mode that reminded her of the monsoon rains back home. Stepping in she instantly relaxed as she felt the boiling water, closing her eyes she stood under the spray and took a moment to breathe. The water burned her skin in a comforting way, she smiled to herself as she enjoyed the small luxury.

She took her time, washing her hair with the expensive shampoos and conditioners and choosing the scent of peaches to scrub her body. After she was satisfied she stepped out, wrapping herself in the warm embrace of the towel she was given. She looked in the mirror pondering momentarily that it had no fog before it lit up with options.

“Electric hair dryer?” She said aloud to herself, touching the option. Immediately a small current of electricity flowed through her arm, drying her hair into a silky smooth texture. She smiled as she marveled at the technology, touching another option that popped out a small mouth guard that would supposedly brush her teeth.

A moment later she deemed she had truly enjoyed what used to be a simple bathing experience, walking out to the room she was provided in her towel. She saw a new outfit laying on the covers of the bed, black Satin pajamas, new underwear and thick socks. She ran her fingers over the fabric for a moment before putting the outfit on, it was incredibly comfortable.

She climbed into the impossibly soft bed, swaddled in warmth. She was physically the most comfortable she had ever been, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from racing around her head like jabberjays fighting over a worm. She picked up the remote from the nightstand, dimming the lights. she also pressed a button that had a cricket on it out of curiosity, the sound immediately playing quietly throughout her room along with wind and the sounds of swaying foliage.

Somehow that night she managed to sleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day lulled her to unconsciousness.

The next morning she awoke early, sliding out of the bed and tidying it up out of habit. She was exhausted but sleep avoided her grasp for any longer, the stress making it impossible. After a few moments of trying to perfect the messy covers she padded over to the large closet. The small room was full of elegant and colorful clothes, she ran her hand across one of the racks and admired the different styles.

She chose a comfortable forest green sweater with gold buttons and wide leg black pants, she slid on comfortable ballet shoes before deciding she looked well enough to go to breakfast. She grabbed the mouth guard-like device and let it brush her teeth before fluffing her hair in the mirror. The door to her room slid open automatically as she stepped up to it.

She walked down the long hallway to the dining room car, her hands wringing themselves together anxiously. Brutus sat in the car alone, sipping a steaming mug. “Oh it’s you” he muttered as he noticed her presence “I didn’t expect you to be up this early” he remarked as She stood awkwardly in the doorway “I can come back later if you want” she offered, uneasy at the thought of disturbing him. He had always made her a bit nervous, his gaze was sharp and unsettling.

He shook his head “No it’s ok, come sit” he motioned to the soft plush chairs around him “coffee?” He asked, setting his cup down. She shook her head, Her mother had let her have coffee a few times during celebrations but she had never liked the taste, it was definitely acquired. “It’s not my thing” she said as she walked across the car, sitting a few seats away from him. “I’ve never been able to get over how bitter it is.” she recalled, her nose scrunching a bit at the memory.

He gave a small chuckle, picking up a tablet and pressing a few buttons. “Do you like chocolate?” He asked as he presumably ordered a drink for her on the device. She nodded her head, she had had it a few times but it wasn’t a staple in her home. “You’ll like this then” he concluded as he set the device down again, looking at her once more.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “You’re pretty” he observed “you look like you might be quick too” he said while studying her. “Can you run fast?” She was a bit taken aback by the question but quickly replied “I-I think I’m average” she stuttered out. He narrowed his eyes at the reply “what weapons have you trained with?” He pried, trying to get a good picture of her strengths “I'm not an academy student” she said, almost embarrassed. she chewed her lip nervously and continued “I have no experience with anything besides helping my mama chop vegetables for dinner”

his head tilted a bit at that point “So long range is better for you” he concluded. “Spears or pitchforks maybe” he sipped his coffee again, sitting back in his chair. “You won’t have to get close to kill, no hand to hand combat.” She didn’t know much about fighting, a few squabbles with her siblings and friends sure but she wasn’t a born killer. The thought of fighting other people scared her a bit, murder was a thing that had never occurred to her to commit.

Soon an avox appeared with a mug of her, the creamy hazelnut colored liquid swirled with cream. It smelled wonderful and she quickly took a sip. It was warm and rich, with a smooth cocoa flavor and a hint of cinnamon that reminded her of home. “Oh my god” she said, a delight present on her face as she sipped. At that exact moment the door slip open and Enobaria sauntered in “you gave her hot chocolate didn’t you?” She smiled as she sat next to her colleague. He nodded with a faint grin and she seemed pleased to watch the young girl enjoy herself.

“How are you feeling today? Are you nervous?” Enobaria asked, she had a commanding presence about her, reminding Y/N of an older sister or that aunt that scares you a bit. Y/N nodded slowly “I’m…..scared” she said softly and Enobaria nodded understandably. “It’ll be a lot I won’t lie-“ she stated, her own coffee being brought to her by a female avox “but as your mentor I’ll be right here with you. I’ll teach you to dismember with the best of them” She said as she smiled, a glint of mischief in her eye.

The morning went by quickly after the interaction with Finch waking up and breakfast being served. They ate their fill in pastries, assorted meats, cheeses and especially hot chocolate. Brutus and Enobaria began their mentorship discussions with their tributes after their meal. They closely studied both their strengths and weaknesses determining what they should and should not do in specific scenarios. Furisha fluttered about the train at the same time, throwing in bits of opinions and comments about decor and manners. Y/N was almost overwhelmed by the time lunch was served, thoughts swirling around her head of strategies and sponsorships. Unfortunately the reward of a break would not be provided.

The train sped into the Capitol, the tall buildings dwarfing the train she had thought was gigantic just moments prior. She was glued to the window taking in the sights around her, the glistening statues and sleek structures she had read about in book. The train soon turned into the station, crowds of people gathered at the platform. Some smiled at her with artificial golden or black teeth while some shouted and screamed.

All she could do was stare at the crowd until a voice interrupted her thoughts. “They’d like you better if you smiled and waved, gotta make a good impression.” She whipped her head around only to see Finch, the broad boy walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, waving and smiling. “I don’t want to be enemies ok?” He told her “We might die in there and it’s better to have a friend” he said looking at her with a soft gaze. He had never been mean, he just knew what he wanted and would do anything to get to his goal even as a child, they didn’t know each other very well anymore but she could tell he was still a kind young man.

“Ok…friends” she agreed quietly, plastering a fake smile on her face to wave to the crowd. She didn’t know him well enough to consider him a friend or anything close but she couldn’t afford to turn him down. There could be a time that the choice between her life and death came to his loyalties to her. She had no idea that playing the game started so much sooner before she went into the arena when she was reaped, a shame she had to learn.

After lunch the two disembarked from the train, the crowds throwing smiles and flowers their way. They were driven to a large building soon after and surrounded by their own separate groups of people. Y/N knew these were the famed stylists, they were notorious for their taste and trend setting. They took her to a cubicle and stripped her clothes, starting their work instantaneously. She was doused in warm water and scrubbed with scratchy fabric and a grainy substance that made her skin feel raw.

“Time for the best part!” One of the so far anonymous stylists said to another. He pulled out what looked like a glob of honey and some paper strips. The hot gooey substance was spread on her legs, it felt strange but kind of good, the warmth sinking into her cold skin. Out of nowhere another stylist placed a sheet of the paper on the goo and ripped it off. She let out a shocked pained noise and the male stylist rolled his eyes. “Lay back and let us wax you ok? Aerith doesn’t like hair on her tributes” he snarked

She decided she hated this man, she gave him a dirty look as he continued to rip the hair from her entire lower half, then including arms and eyebrows. She wondered if Finch was being given the same treatment, probably not. Men were allowed to be hairy or hairless, a fact she despised at the current moment.

She was slathered in thick lotion, her body feeling a bit sticky and her hair was washed once again. They remarked amongst themselves that coming from a district like 2 she shouldn’t have as many split ends as she did. She rolled her eyes at the chatter as her hair was trimmed and dried, they curled it just a bit and then turned their attention to her face. They pinched, rubbed and poked at her; her pores slathered in a mask to make them unnoticeable.

She furrowed her eyebrows in discomfort as they brushed her eyelashes and washed her face. It had been hours when finally at long last the torture was over, she was put in a thin cotton gown and corralled to a darkened room with a steel table. What more could this stylist “Aerith” do to her? She wondered, cringing at the thought of any more preening from the anonymous stylists.

She layed on the table and waited, closing her eyes and listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights above.

After a while she was starting to doze off, the lack of sleep and quiet of the room calming. The door was suddenly flung open, a small woman entering. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her eyes turning to meet the woman’s gaze. “Oh yes you are a fine piece” the woman said as she walked closer and combed her wrinkled hands through Y/Ns hair.

“Thank you?” Y/N spoke, unsure of what “piece” meant, and still a bit disoriented from the entrance. The woman looked over her face, muttering about her nose and lips before their eyes met. “I am Aerith” the old woman stated, her hand falling to her side. The woman was small in stature, her skin an almost translucent white. She had bright orange hair and lavender bangs, the short curls flipping up at the nape of her neck. Her long fingernails tickled Y/Ns skin as she let them follow the lines of her neck, her unsettling yellow eyes lighting up with a smile.

“I am here to make sure you make the best impression possible and can get as many sponsors as it takes to win these games.” She smiled almost eerily “you’ll make a beautiful impression my pet, if everyone in panem doesn’t want to kill you, be you or sleep with you by the end of this week I haven’t done my job.”

Y/N gave her a bewildered look, this old woman wanted people to think that?

She didn’t have the time to ponder long as Aerith took her hand with a grin “Let's start” she stated.

She was fitted into many outfits, The dresses, suits, rompers and leotards tight on her body to show off what Aerith called “assets.” She was exhausted by the conclusion of the never ending fashion show. Her skin chafed from the sequins and gems on the garments. Luckily her outfits were finally chosen and she could be taken to her temporary home to rest. She spotted Finch as she was escorted to the car, he looked good. His hair was a bit shorter, his face clean shaven and his eyebrows plucked to perfection.

“They got to you too huh?” She asked jokingly to which he laughed “It was horrible” he remarked “I thought my skin was gonna fall off when they scrubbed me with that sugary stuff” he laughed. She grimaced “that’s all? They tore all the hair off my body except on my head!” She exclaimed and he recoiled. “Uh god that sounds awful!”

The ride back was mostly silent, Furisha meeting them as they pulled up to what they where told was the “tribute quarters.”

“You two look wonderful!” She chirped, her stilettos clicking as she motioned for them to follow. A crowd was once again cheering as they walked into the building, held back by peacekeepers. She plastered on her biggest fake smile and blew kisses to the people, walking quickly into the building. Did these people ever sleep? Would it be like this every time she left from now on until she entered the arena?

Finch was right behind her, not stalling like he had before. Y/N could tell he must be a bit tired of the fanfare, she looked back as he waved. The fatigue was evident on his face to her, to the citizens howling in the crowd however? They screamed louder and she could tell they didn’t pay any mind. Furisha led them to the elevator and pushed the button for 2. “You two are so lucky to be here this year, we just got brand new heated floors!” She cheered excitedly.

Y/N couldn’t wait to eat and get to bed, this woman was beyond exhausting. Y/N knew she meant well but the constant cheery behavior was a lot to put up with. The elevator soon stopped and revealed an oddly decorated room. The chairs looked like they were made of children’s building blocks and the couch had a strange plush roof on it.

Furisha told them they could go to their rooms or explore until dinner, their stylists would be joining them. Y/N almost groaned when she heard the statement. Aerith was not exactly the most warm and cuddly person. She wished she could have someone to talk to, she missed whispering jokes to her brother at the dinner table and the way her sister would pick out her clothes because she had “bad tastes”

She was shown to her new room by an avox, a dinner outfit already in her arms. It was a simple black dress, long enough to reach her knees with tulle sleeves. She asked politely for the mute woman to place the dress on the chair by the vanity in the room. The woman nodded, draping the dress over the chair and bowing before leaving the room.

She flopped onto the plush bed face first, sighing and contemplating what to do until dinner. She looked around the room she occupied. The walls were a red oxide color, a common color in her district. The bedspread and sheets were black and all of the metal in the room was gold. She looked to the window in the room, watching the people walk around outside. She wondered if she could be seen but quickly realized she definitely could not. She spotted a remote on the nightstand, a small smile coming to her face. She plucked it off the table and looked at the buttons like the night before. She pressed one and the window suddenly changed to a cityscape, another and she saw the forest. She grinned wider as she fiddled with the small electronic, nearly dropping it as the scene changed to a desert plane. Her heart jumped as she heard the familiar sounds of soft winds and animals skittering.

A knock sounded on her door a moment later. “Come in!” She said loudly, sitting up on the bed and pressing the button to turn the window back to normal. She willed the tears away from her eyes and pushed the homesickness down in her stomach. The Cotton gown she wore bunched up around her knees as she sat and watched the door open.

Finch poked his head in and waved “Hey” he said simply. She offered a small smile “Hi” she said in return.“Wanna come explore the bookshelves before dinner?” He asked, opening the door wider, revealing his dress shirt and black slacks. She nodded and stood, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “gimme a second to change and I’ll meet you by the freaky couch” she affirmed as she walked to pick up the dress that lay in waiting. He smiled wider and gave her a thumbs up, closing the door again.

She quickly changed into the black dress, the sleeves were a bit itchy but otherwise it was quite comfortable. She put a black headband in her hair that had been sitting on the vanity, assuming it went with the dress. Looking down at her feet she wiggled her toes, searching through one of the drawers and finding a pair of black ankle socks. She took the cotton gown she had been wearing and draped it on the bed. With how much she was attended to she was sure it would probably be gone by the time she returned.

The door slid open upon her approach and she walked into the living room area, the lights outside the window sparkling like stars. She spotted Finch lounging on the strange couch, giggling to herself. “You look like a villain in a book” she remarked with a small smile “but I think that couch would do that to anyone” she chuckled.

He laughed loudly, standing to meet her. “Better not say that to Brutus” he whispered teasingly and she smiled again. “Because it’s kinda true” He smiled as she laughed. He led her to a few large bookshelves that were filled to the brim. Cloth bound and leather books lined the shelves with different titles shown on the spines.

She traced her fingers across the spines, looking up at the large shelves. She had never seen so many fine books, district 2 had books yes but many were tattered or dirty. Finch looked to where her gaze had settled, speaking quietly “they’re pretty huh?” He observed. She stood on her toes, reaching for a book she recognized. Her fingers grazed the leather of the green spine and she hopped to reach it. Suddenly she was up in the air, face to face with the book. She let out a startled noise, looking down and seeing Finch. He smiled as he held her on his bicep and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” She asked, astonished at his strength. She hadn’t had someone pick her up so easily in a while. “You looked like you needed a hand” he stated simply, motioning at the book. She grabbed the book quickly, looking back down at his smiling face. He set her down as gently as he scooped her up, taking care to make sure she was steady on her feet.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers barely brushing the book she held. She showed him the title “ Edible plants and where to find them.” It read in gold embossed cursive writing, little flowers and leafy greens surrounding it. “My siblings and I studied this in school” she started “we all had the same teacher and she taught us where to find a few things” she said, a soft smile on her features from the memory.

“Read it to me?” He requested, nodding his head to the strange shaped couch. She looked over and thought for a moment, was this him trying to be her friend? Trying to be an ally? It didn’t matter, she needed a small comfort in this place. She walked to the couch and sat, opening the book and looking at the pictures.

The two read for a few moments, discussing their favorite spices, fruits and vegetables from home. They discovered how much they had in common, they both loved summer fruits and how the plum trees would bloom in spring.

Soon enough Furisha called them for dinner, they were served a chicken dish on a bed of rice. It was smothered in a spicy red sauce and had just the right amount of herbs. The sides where just as immaculate, a mix of salads and sautéed vegetables. Furisha explained the next day’s schedule over dinner, the tribute parade and their first opportunity for sponsorship. Y/N felt nervousness bubble up in her chest. The thought of so many people watching her was exciting and terrifying simultaneously.

Dessert was served while the conversation progressed, a chocolate cake with fruit and vanilla ice cream. Y/N felt goosebumps when the sweetness hit her taste buds. Finch groaned in delight at the flavor and they looked at eachother with small smiles. Furisha clapped rapidly “Oh you two are so cute! I can already see how great the alliance will be in the arena!” She chirped. The comment made the two teens frown, they silently ate their sweet treat.

The stylists talked with furisha for a while after that, talking about what looks the two would wear the next day. They planned their hair and makeup, their entrances and everything in between.

The tributes were sent to bed early that night, told they “had a big day tomorrow” as they were handed off to avoxes and sent to their rooms after dinner. Y/N was glad to be allowed a bit of silence, she took the book to her room stealthy. A set of silk pajamas was laid out for her, thick socks on the side.

She changed out of her dinner dress and got into bed, setting the window screen to the desert scene. She snuggled into the soft bed and cracked open the book, soon falling into sleep with the pages open on her lap.

*******************************************************

[forget-me-not-my-dear]

Let me tell you about this fic!

I can’t wait for the next part, because it’s got me on the edge of my seat. I love Finnick in this fic. So good.

Golden Lies 9

PART 1 PART 8

Masterlist

~

You thought it would've been harder to find the small ragtag group. But it really wasn't, the boy from 8 was loud and yelling most of the day. So loud that while they were walking, they couldn't hear you following behind them. You listened to them talk, slowly forming a plan on how to take them on. Who would suffer most and who would die quickly. 

“It's amazing, they are so oblivious she's right behind them and they have no idea!” Caesar said laughing as he watched. He had never been so intrigued by the games before. He wanted his little goddess to win, so much that he had the little butterfly sitting on his desk. This alone spoke to how amazing the people thought you were. Caesar VERY rarely every showed such blatant support of one specific tribute.

It didn't take long to learn that the only one who wanted to slowly kill Beck, was like he said the boy from 8. That solidified the plan in your brain, the two girls would die quickly but the boy would suffer. He would suffer for as long as you could stretch it. You would get revenge for Beck. 

Night fell after an entire day of stalking, they were looking for you, without knowing that you were right behind them. It was clear they only made it this far because of their alliance with the careers. A small camp fire was made as they argued about whose turn it was to stay awake. 

In a twist of fate, it was the boys turn. 

The two girls fell asleep almost instantly but you still waited. Watching as the boy's eyes opened slower and slower, until he too fell asleep. An hour or two after he fell asleep you walked slowly putting your machete away. Two of the throwing knives you had left were pulled out. 

Both lodged between the Axis and Atlas of their necks, spinal cords severed instantly. They died with very little to no pain and almost instantly. Their cannons went off and you were already standing behind the boy from 8. So when he jumped from his place, he didn't even have time to notice his teammates were dead. 

The handle off your machete slammed into the side of his head, hard enough to knock him out. You went through the bags gathered around them while you thought about how you were going to kill him.

Impalement? 

The blood eagle?

Death by a thousand cuts?

But when you pulled out a knife used to cut fish, one that had fish scales on the handle and 4 engraved into the blade your mind was made up. So you put the knife, green apples, and a few bottles of water into your bag. Cleaned off the throwing knives and put them away. Then drug the boy far into the woods, the opposite way of the cornucopia. 

You knew you were going to need a lot of space to keep the others from hearing him. Somehow you got him into a sitting position, then used a cuff knot to secure his wrists. Then another knot with a separate rope around and through the cuff knot, and over a thick tree branch. 

Hoisting him into a standing position was another challenge. But you managed to and secured that around the tree. His legs were then tied together so it would be harder for him to kick at you. When you were done you stepped back, satisfied with your work. You climbed the tree, finding a comfortable spot to sit and rest. Just waiting for what would happen next. 

~~~~

Newt Pitwillow, the district 8 male tribute, jumps awake as the sound of birds chirping near him. He's disoriented, his head hurts both inside and out. His muscles feel stretched and strained. His shoulders are screaming at him to relax but he can't. Blood is slowly dripping down his arms alerting him to pain in his wrists. 

A voice somewhere above him scared him as he looked around, finding you sitting in a tree. "Ah, you're finally awake.. I didn't think I hit you THAT hard." You smirked at him while cutting the green apple into slices and eating it off the blade. "But now that you are awake, the games can continue.. I'm sure this grew very.. boring for those watching." 

Newts breathing picked up as he watched you hop down from the tree. Every step you took towards him increased his heart beat. "Why.. Why are you doing this!? Where are the others!" He screamed as you stopped just a few steps away from him. 

"Well.. The careers are at the cornucopia, far away from us. And the two girls you were with are dead. Don't worry I killed them quickly, unlike you I normally have a conscience. "You kept eating the apple with a smile on your face as you enjoyed the panic and confusion on the boy's face. It brought you a sick amount of joy that this was going to be far more painful than what he did to Beck. 

"If you killed them like that, then why am I here!" He yelled trying to pull at his arms, but they were secure. You laughed and pointed up at the knots with your knife "You like that.. Learned it at one of the survival stations.. Don't think this is how they thought we would use it but hey.. Live and learn right?" Newt started kicking and struggling again, his legs raising combined to try and lash out at you. 

You let him continue to wear himself down, knowing that eventually he would stop fighting. And when that came he looked at you with tears in his eyes “Why.. Why do this? Why not just kill me?” Casually you tossed the apple core to the side, walking over to the bag by the tree. Drank some water before pulling the fish knife out and turning back to him. “Because.. It makes for a good show.. People like pain.” 

“Oh we are hearing the same words repeated back to him that he said to that poor little boy from 4! What a turn of events from our little goddess!”

"Shes turning into the Goddess of Death and I am. Living. For. IT." The other broadcaster said as he smacked the table to show his enthusiasm.

You watched the color drain from his face as he remembered having said that. “Only your pain.. Well.. It's about to be a lot worse than his was.” You stepped forward holding the knife up so he could see it. “Recognize this? I'm going to assume you took it from one of the tributes from 4, because it has their number on it. It's for cutting fish. It solidified my choice when I was thinking about torture methods.” 

“You see, years and years ago, a victor from 9 wanted to open a small training center. He thought because of our strength from the fields, if we could just train a little more we could have some more winners. It was a nice thought, he filled this huge room with books. Some of those books were about forms of touture our society doesn't use anymore.” 

Goosebumps raised on Newts skin as the cool metal skimmed his arms, the calmness in your voice only scaring him more. “Eventually I outgrew the normal books teens read, right? So I read up on these, the one I really wanted to do to you.. I don't think I have upper body strength. It's called the ‘Blood Eagle’. It's when you open someones back and remove their ribs from their spine, pulling their bones and skin outward to form a set of “wings,” and remove their lungs from their chest cavity.”

“My god.. That's gruesome. It would've been amazing to see, I'm so excited to see what she has planned.” 

“But like I said, I don't think I have the strength to snap your ribcage away from your spine. But I have something else in mind, something that will kill you slower. Put on more of a show, I'm sure you understand.” You said nodding with your lips pursed before smiling. You didn't know how to feel, that weird part of you had completely taken over. Maybe it was just your survival instincts on full blast, but then why hadn't you killed Newt immediately. 

Because you wanted revenge, and that was what confused you. But you boxed it away inside your head and focused on the matter at hand. “SO instead of breaking your bones, I'm going to flay you..” The smile that took over your face as you stepped towards him was chill inducing. Newt was scared, the people of the capitol were perched so closely to the end of their seats that one stiff breeze would push them off.

The mentors in the training center where shocked. They had seen a lot of things happen, a lot of mental breakdowns. But none like this, they were use to the ones where someone shut down. When they curled into a ball and cried until they died. This was scary, it was like looking at a completely different person.

Even just the way you stood was different, the tilt to your head, the look in your eye. You didn't seem like you. They were nervous that you would win, but you would be insane.

Back across town, Walking back into the groups large penthouse was Seneca Crane. All it took to convey the sucuess of his trip was a smile and a nod. The same smile that was paused and stopped on their wall. They would find a way to get this image printed and hung here as soon as the morning light filled the sky. The same smile was shared between all the men.

They had found her..

The one they would ruin.

~

~

~

@avis15 @liballer @avoxrising @notplutos @asapkyndall @wolfstarfate

[imsogonesposts]

A Little Help

|| ao3 || an: finnick lives!! also, happy almost new year!! ||

summary: You help Finnick recover after the injuries he sustained from his near death experience with the mutts. (wc: 1,152)

Finnick wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being taken care of and fussed over, at least not to this extent. You had always cared for him, fussed over him over minor things such as a cold or headache, but he wasn’t used to this. To you having to feed him, help him walk, help him stand. And while he usually loves having your hands on him, at this moment, he hated it. Hated that you had to see him like this and protect him and care for him like this. He was supposed to be the caregiver, the protector, though that’s how he ended up in this situation in the first place, he supposes. By risking his life fighting the mutts, ensuring everyone was safe before he even bothered to worry about himself. Ensuring you were safe. Though, in the end, he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. No questions asked, as long as everyone was safe. As long as youwere safe. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t need help,” he muttered as you helped him down the stairs from your shared bedroom, into the kitchen. Truthfully, he did need your help, but he was far too proud to ever admit something like that. Even to you. 

“Well, sometimes I like to dote on you,” you reply as he rolls his eyes with a smile. It was true, even before the accident you’d continuously dote on him, as he’d do to you. But now, you were taking it to another level. And while he usually wouldn’t mind, he loves it when you dote on him, he can’t help but feel a little useless and helpless. Helpless because you have to do everything for him. 

“And sometimes you take it to the extreme,” he teases, “pretty soon you’re gonna start carrying me around the house.”

“Your legs aren’t that bad,” you respond, sitting him down on the couch and kissing his cheek before walking off to the kitchen to make some breakfast for the both of you. 

“Why do you insist on helping me so much?” Finnick later asks over breakfast as you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Because I love you,” he had expected that answer. “And I know you’d do the same for me, no matter what.” That was true, when you had sprained your ankle after returning from your Hunger Games, Finnick had fussed over you as well, helping you walk off the train and to the hospital, carrying all of your boxes to your new home in the Victor’s Village, even spent the night your first time back when the nightmares became too much for you. And the two of you weren’t even dating yet. 

“Yeah, but it must get annoying having to take care of me so much-” he quietly replies.

“I don’t mind,” you truthfully retort. 

“You shouldn’t have to baby me,” he complains.

“I’m not babying you, I’m taking care of my boyfriend.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Why is it so hard for you to let other people take care of you?” It was true. Finnick always struggled to let people care for him, even if it was you. In the end, he would always let you, he knew you meant well, but usually not without some resistance first.

“Because I don’t want you to see me like this!” He said, raising his voice as he dropped his fork and knife onto the table, breakfast already forgotten. “I hate that you have to see me like this,” he said, dropping his voice, putting his head in his hands. ”I’m sorry for yelling, but…I hate that you have to see me so weak. So…useless.”

“Finnick, I don’t think you’re weak,” you reply, getting up and slowly removing his head from his hands. “I think you’re one of the bravest, strongest, people I know,” you say, kneeling in front of him and taking both of his hands in yours, lightly squeezing them. 

“If I was so strong, I wouldn’t look like this,” he replied, waving a hand over his body as if to emphasize the wounds and bandages littered across his body before putting it back into yours. “If I was so strong, you wouldn’t feel like you have to take care of me.”

“I always like to take care of you, you know that.”

“You’ve never had to do it to this extent,” he bitterly replies as you release one of his hands to lightly cup his face, turning it so his meets yours. 

“Look at me,” you quietly request as he reluctantly obliges. His sad sea-green eyes meeting your warm and inviting ones. “I don’t mind taking care of you, and I don’t think you’re weak.” He opens his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it when you give him a pointed glare. In different circumstances, it would almost be funny. 

“A weak person wouldn’t do what you did. They’d have gone and hide instead of putting everyone before themself. A weak person wouldn’t have been the last one to go up that ladder or have fought off that many mutts. You know who does those kind of things? A strong and brave person. A caring person does those things. Finnick, just cause you’re a little bruised up doesn’t meant mean you’re weak or anything. I really mean it when I say you’re the bravest person I know, and not just cause you’re my husband.” 

For what felt like the first time in an awfully long time, you could see the hint of a smile on Finnick’s face.  A real one. You didn’t realize how much you missed that warm and genuine smile until it graced his face again. “Well, I’m a little more than bruised up,” he jokes with a sigh. “Thank you,” he all but whispers as he raises your interlocked hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss against each of your knuckles. 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” you reply earnestly as he shakes his head. 

“I know I probably haven’t been the easiest person to deal with, not just because of my…condition, but more so my attitude.” He looks up at you with a smile that still made you just a little weak in the knees all these years later. “Thank you for not giving up on me, I guess. And still being willing to take care of me.”

“It’d take a lot more than all this to get rid of me, you know,” you tell him as he lets out a small laugh. “Besides, you’re my favorite patient.”

“As far as I was concerned, I thought I was your only patient,” he teases as you roll your eyes with a smile. “But tell me, why am I your favorite?”

You just kiss him in response as Finnick realizes he doesn't mind being your favorite patient, so long as you kiss him like that again.

[ilguna]

☼ odds are (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you and Finnick have never seen eye to eye, despite both being close friends with Johanna. it isn't until you save his life in the arena, does he see you different.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, blood, ehhh gore, death, drug mention, kinda starvation mention, suicide (mags), puke mention, the usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 9.6k

--

If there’s one thing that you’ve learned so far about the other district’s personalities since becoming a mentor, it’s that District Four produces the most annoying people by far. You don’t know if they’re born that way, or if it’s the water they drink, but they take that top spot without a close runner up.

Which is crazy, considering people like Enobaria and Gloss exist. They don’t know when to stop even when it’s obvious, yet they can be more mature than Finnick Odair is half the time.

He has the ego the size of a hovercraft and he just uses it to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants. He thinks that if he can smother someone enough, they’ll back down and let him have his way. Arguing with Finnick is truly like talking to someone who always assumes they’re right just because they’re older than you.

Except, in this case, it’s because he’s been mentoring longer, since he won ten years ago. It gives him seniority in calling the shots, or it does in his mind, at least. 

He wants to be the main ally that corrales Katniss and Peeta into doing what’s best in the arena. The problem with that is Katniss doesn’t like Finnick, which will make it a huge ordeal trying to get her to do anything for him. He seems to think that as long as Peeta trusts him, Katniss will follow.

Only, Peeta’s not a complete idiot and he knows how to think for himself. Beyond that, in a setting where there’s going to be twenty-two other tributes that have also won the Hunger Games in their own unique ways—Peeta’s going to follow Katniss’s lead. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he’s going to let her take the reins and trust her to protect him in dangerous situations.

So, in the end, while Peeta might have his own opinions on what he’d like to do, he’s going to value Katniss’s opinion first. 

Finnick can’t seem to understand that. It doesn’t matter how you explain it to him, he doesn’t want you to be right. Even with Johanna standing here, telling him that you’re not wrong, he refuses to believe it. 

“You’re just going to make her mad.” You tell him again, throwing your hand up. “We all saw the way she looked at you yesterday, and today she’s gone out of her way to make sure she can’t talk to you.”

Finnick glances over in Katniss and Peeta’s direction. They’re on the far side of the Training Center, sitting with Cecelia from District Eight. This morning’s the last chance you get to train before the private session with the Gamemakers in the afternoon. From what you’ve been watching, they’re taking it easy.

“We already knew she wasn’t going to like me.”

“Does it have anything to do with the way you approached her during the parade?” You ask back, tilting your head. “You’re terrible at first impressions.”

“I am not.” Finnick’s face twists.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re friends, right?” Your tone sarcastic. “I’m not asking for your permission, I’m going to tell Haymitch that you’ll meet up with us later on down the line.”

Finnick shakes his head. “That makes no sense. You are not a strong fighter, I need to be there to help with Katniss.”

“Katniss doesn’t need help!” You exclaim quietly. “What Katniss needed is someone she can trust, and that’s obviously me. I just spent the past two days getting to know her. She doesn’t want to be around either of you.” 

You then place your hand on Johanna’s shoulder, but she gives you a shrug. “I don’t care. She’s going to have to deal with me sooner or later. I have no preference.”

“You have basically no fighting experience, all you’ll do is get in her way.” Finnick tells you.

“Excuse me, I do know how to fight. I set the highest score when it came to hand-to-hand combat with a weapon.”

“When?” Finnick asks, not believing you.

“Today.”

“Bullshit.”

“Finnick, she’s not lying.” Johanna sighs. “And that’s besides the point. We can’t keep (Y/n) out of the plan just because you can’t get along with her. She’s right about Katniss.”

“I can and will keep her out of the fight.” Finnick tells Johanna, causing your face to scrunch up. “Who’s going to get to the Cornucopia first, you or me?”

“I’m not airheaded enough to think it’s me.” You snap back. “But—”

“Katniss knows how to swim, we saw it last year. She’s going to get there second. What stops me then?”

“Me, when I get my fucking hands around your neck.” You point at him. “What happens on the off-chance you chase her off? What’s your big idea then?”

“Haymitch is going to get me something to signal to her that we’re already allies.” Finnick shrugs. “I bet he didn’t talk to you about anything like that.”

“He doesn’t have to.” You laugh. “That’s the entire point. I don’t need him to signal to her about anything. She picked me as an ally on that first day. You can’t say the same. It says a lot about your character.”

“My character?” He’s unimpressed.

“No one likes you!” You shout at him.

“Okay,” Johanna says. “Let’s talk with Haymitch tonight, see what he has to say about the situation.”

“Fine, but I’m not spending the rest of my day with this idiot.” You tell her.

—

Monkeys.

At first, it was only a couple that were hanging above Peeta, who couldn’t be more oblivious. Now, a troop of them have gathered in the twilight in the time it’s taken you, Finnick and Katniss to assess the situation. They’ve completely appeared out of thin air, gathering on open branches.

And they’re all watching Peeta.

You eye Finnick, wondering what he’s thinking on how he wants to handle this. After all, he’s been directed to take charge in situations where Katniss and Peeta’s lives are in danger. Or rather, he asked Haymitch to make it official, because he couldn’t live with the idea that you might be the better fit.

Either way, there’s several different approaches you could take. Does he want to go to Peeta and guide him out of the jungle to make sure he keeps his head down or will that trigger the monkeys? You could try gathering around Peeta and set off the monkeys on purpose to ensure you’re in control, because they’re bound to go off anyway… right?

Or maybe it’s a better idea to lure Peeta out of the jungle and hope for the best?

Katniss makes a decision before Finnick does, carefully arming her bow with two arrows, just in case a fight shows itself. This causes Finnick to nervously adjust the trident in his hand, not ready for what she’s planning on doing.

You, on the other hand, trust her. 

“Peeta.” Katniss’s voice is calm, but there’s a slight edge to her voice if you listen closely. “I need your help with something.”

“Okay, just a minute. I think I’ve just about got it.” Peeta tells her, fiddling with the tree so he can put the spile in the bark. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”

“I do. But we’ve found something you’d better take a look at,” Katniss continues. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”

Katniss has decided to lure Peeta out, then. It’s not a bad plan. With how the monkeys are tracking Peeta’s every movement, anything mildly offensive could cause them to attack. And since eye contact is a form of aggression, he needs to keep his head down.

Peeta turns to face the three of you, panting from trying to drill into the tree with the awl that Mags had passed over before she died. “Okay.” He agrees, not an ounce of hesitation.

He begins to come in your direction, but he’s not at all being quiet whatsoever. This is expected, he wasn’t last year, either. He’s not used to hunting or gently shuffling your feet through leaves. He worked in a bakery, carrying heavy bags over his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter, as long as the monkeys are holding their position—and they are—despite the amount of noise he’s making. He’s only five yards from the beach, where you’re standing, when he finally feels how off the air is. His eyes dart up for only a split second, but that’s all it takes.

Their shrieking fills the air, almost causing you to cover your ears at the pitch. The monkeys launch themselves off the branches and aim straight for Peeta, ready to kill. They’re too quick for your eyes, making them one blur. They slide down vines, jump from the trees with teeth bared, hacked raised and claws as sharp as knives.

You jerk forward, drawing your sword back to swing as soon as you get into range.

“Mutts!” Katniss blurts, in case you haven’t figured it out by now.

Katniss and Finnick take off after you. You swing hard, right at the first monkey that thinks they can get their paws on Peeta. The blade cuts right through fur, slicing skin right open, blood flying everywhere. The mutt collapses, struggling to breathe.

It’s just the first of many.

You move on, drawing Peeta in closer to protect him easier. Katniss shoots her arrows two at a time, taking down twice the amount of mutts you can. Finnick tries to keep up with her pace by spearing several of them at once and flinging them aside. Peeta can’t do much with his knife, but you’re able to keep them off of him with just your sword.

The fight grows harder the longer it goes on as you try to see through the darkness, breathing in the cloud of blood and must. Even as you end up back to back with your allies, it doesn’t get any easier. 

“Peeta!” Katniss suddenly shouts. “Your arrows!”

Peeta stops swinging, briefly looking over at Katniss to see what she means. In an instant, he begins to slide out of his sheath so that he can hand it over to her. He doesn’t even wait to make sure the coast is clear before he does.

“Peeta!” You blurt.

You swing at a mutt that’s already coming at you, catching the sight of another one flying out of a tree, heading in his direction. For a moment, you think you have just enough time to fling the monkey off your sword to save him, but the mutt at the end of your blade grabs your wrist, yanking you out of the formation.

You’re thrown into the jungle, a blur of green and brown passing by, until you hit the ground. You roll for a couple of feet, and then come to a stop, staring at the leaves above your head, trying to get a hold of your air. There’s a dull pain on the right side of your body from the impact.

And then you get back up.

Katniss is running for Peeta, hands outreached to grab him before the mutt does, but she’s too far. 

A body materializes from one of the trees, screaming, jumping in front of him just in time. The mutt’s claws swing inward pulling—who you believe to be—the morphling from District Six in for a deadly hug as it sinks its canines into her chest.

You’ve managed to regroup with them now. Peeta wiggles out of the sheath, letting it fall to the dirt so he can bury his knife into the monkey’s back. He stabs it repeatedly until it finally releases its jaw, kicking it away. Katniss retrieves her arrows, loading her bow, waiting for another attack.

You turn to look at the monkeys in the trees, curious to see what they’re doing. They stare back at you, unmoving, observing you the same way. Beside you, Finnick is breathing heavy, trident resting on the ground. He must think that the fight is over, then.

“Come on, then! Come on!” Peeta shouts at the mutts, trying to egg them on. 

They seem disinterested in continuing though, satisfied with the life they’ve taken, retreating. They disappear into the darkness of the jungle silently, and even though it appears they’re gone, it doesn’t feel like it.

“Get her,” Katniss says, she’s talking to Peeta. “We’ll cover you.”

You eye the morphling, who’s audibly wheezing, not quite dead yet, but she will be soon. Peeta carefully lifts her, turning to leave the jungle, the beach being a few feet away. Finnick motions for Katniss to follow Peeta, you don’t even bother to argue with him about who goes next after that.

There are several orange bodies on the ground on the way out. You step over them, wary of the possibility that they could be pretending to be dead. As soon as you step foot onto sand, a shiver runs up your spine, causing your neck to shrink into your shoulders.

You tense too harshly, the pain in your side returns. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you reach to grab your exposed skin. Since you no longer have a jumpsuit to protect you because of the poisonous fog, several cuts and scrapes have been inflicted across your skin.

“Cold?” Finnick asks, it sounds like he’s teasing. Before you can answer, he keeps going, “Or does your body hurt because you couldn’t handle some hand-to-hand combat?” 

You look over your shoulder to see him, eyes narrowed into slits. “You think you’re so funny.”

“What about my observation makes you think that I’m joking?” He asks, coming to a stop. “You just proved me right.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, face twisting. “Prove you right, how? We’ve barely said anything to each other since the Cornucopia.”

“You have no fighting experience.” He tells you with a straight face. “You’re a danger to the alliance.”

You press your lips together, staring at him, holding back the urge to scream profanities in his face. 

What would he have liked you to do at that moment? You were occupied with a mutt, and Peeta just straight-up abandoned his job to give Katniss a sheath without thinking twice. You were off your game because you didn’t know what to do with a monkey flying at him, while trying to defend yourself at the same time. 

You’ll give it to Finnick, you made an error which could’ve easily have resulted in your death, but it didn’t. What he doesn’t realize is that you will learn from it, you don’t often make the same mistakes twice. You’re not a fucking child, either.

“You forget I was invited to the alliance.” You tell him, choosing not to engage in his behavior. “I don’t know why I bothered responding to you.” You start to move away from him. “All you’re capable of doing is criticizing people.”

You turn away from him, heading to Katniss and Peeta, who are hovering over the morphling girl. They have cut away the jumpsuit over her chest, revealing the four puncture wounds from the mutt’s fangs. There’s blood slowly running out of them, making the situation appear better than it is. 

She’s gasping for air, desperate for every lungful, holding onto Katniss’s hands, unable to control her twitching. A part of you wonders if she accidentally got caught up in the fog, but that can’t be the case. It has to be withdrawal, considering the green shade of her skin, her prominent cheekbones. She watches the clouds in the sky blankly, trying to hold on.

“I’ll watch the trees.” Finnick says, right before turning away from the scene.

You stare at the back of his head, and then turn your attention back to the morphling. Peeta moves to be on the other side of her, crouching down to gently stroke her hair, speaking quietly. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.”

The morphling is completely encapsulated by his words.

“One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.” Peeta murmurs.

Rustling of leaves drags you out of what he’s saying, you look over in time to catch the back of Finnick’s body, heading back into the jungle. You give a glance to Katniss, who seems to be in her own world at the moment, and decide that they can protect themselves for a moment while you have a conversation with Finnick.

You head straight in without an ounce of hesitation, following the sound of muttering, leading you straight to him. He’s picking the arrows out of the grass, swinging them out periodically to rid them of the mutt blood they’re soaked in.

“Listen,” You start, Finnick pauses long enough to look at you, before going back to what he was doing. “I get it, you don’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. I don’t need you up my ass about every decision I make. So, worry about yourself, and I will worry about me.”

“I’m not up your ass.” He scoffs. “I was pointing out what happened. You can’t fight, it’s a fact.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “While I was trying to kill the mutt, I was figuring out how to save Peeta, there was a monkey—”

Finnick holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I don’t need your excuse.”

You tilt your head at him, lips parted, actually speechless. You knew Finnick’s personality resembled a dumpster, but you’ve never experienced it yourself. It’s always been second hand retellings from your friends.

“Anything else?” Finnick asks after a moment of silence.

You’re stewing again. It’s insane how easy it would be to tear him down from the horse he sits on, but you can’t afford ruining the alliance. With how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to throw in the towel and tell you to do it yourself. Which you can do, it’s just a matter of whether or not you’d like to at this point.

While you’re glowering at him, thinking of a response that doesn’t end in the two of you fighting, something moves from behind his head. You take a step to the side, eyes searching the ground, but you quickly realize that’s not where it is. It’s up in the trees.

“What?” Finnick asks.

“We should leave the jungle.” You tell him, not wanting to mention it in case your eyes are playing tricks. “It’s not safe here.”

Finnick digs his heels in. “Now you’re being paranoid.” 

He turns around, going back to rummaging through the greenery to find the arrows for Katniss. He’s already got a good handful already, does she really need the rest? 

A branch dips, your eyes flicker to it.

Even though the sun is finally rising, the light hasn’t quite reached this part of the arena yet. You pat your hip for your sword, afraid of what’s to come, and realize that you left it out on the beach with the Twelve tributes.

“I’m serious, let’s go.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He says back, inching closer to the tree.

A hand creeps out of the darkness, a furry hand wrapping around the branch further down, as if preparing itself to launch at him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You can’t lure Finnick out the same way that Katniss did to Peeta. And you can’t fight your way out of this situation without a weapon. As nice as it would be to turn around and leave him in here, knowing what’s behind him, you’d never be able to live with it.

“Finnick, just trust me this once. Katniss has enough arrows.”

Finnick stands, the movement is too quick, causing the monkey mutt to jerk into the light, revealing itself too soon.

“If you’re scared, you can go back to the beach, (Y/n).”

“Finnick, get down.”

He takes a step toward you, mouth opened to continue what he was saying. You watch in horror as the mutt’s body tenses, getting ready to attack Finnick. You rush at him, the same way the morphling did to Peeta.

“Get out of the way!” You shout, jumping to tackle him.

Finnick turns in time to dodge you and the monkey, putting you into each other’s path, forcing you to collide. The monkey’s claws dig into your skin as it throws you down, your head flying back. A sharp pain strikes your skull, your vision immediately going black.

A rough hand grabs the underside of your arm, jolting you awake. You blink quickly, trying to get rid of the blurry vision as you’re harshly brought back to reality. The person tries to pull you to your feet, but your legs aren’t ready for the weight. Your knees buckle, hand grabbing the shoulder of whoever it is to steady yourself.

The throbbing in the back of your head begins, feeling like a giant headache. You wince, gritting your teeth, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple. The back of your neck feels wet and sticky.

“Can you stand?” An irritated voice asks.

It’s Finnick, face twisted into a hard expression. The grip you have on his shoulder loosens, you lock your knees to keep from falling over. You’re trembling though, you can see it when you let go of him completely.

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

You reach back and dab your hand against the sore area on your head. Your fingers are coated in blood, shining in the sunlight that manages to escape the leaves. A sigh leaves your lips, hand falling at your side.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Finnick asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “There was a monkey in the trees.”

“You couldn’t have told me that?” 

“The same way we could’ve told Peeta?” You counter, and then motion to the jungle. “I didn’t know how many there were. I left my sword on the beach.”

“Another great idea of yours.” He says.

You don’t say anything to him at first, turning to go back to the beach. Just before you hit the treeline, you murmur, “A thank you would be nice.”

Whether or not Finnick actually hears you is a mystery, because he doesn’t respond. 

Katniss and Peeta are sitting together in the sand, side by side, looking out at the water. Your sword is tucked at Katniss’s side, right next to her bow. You come to a stop a foot or so behind them.

Finnick passes you, dropping the arrows in the sand. “Thought you might want these.”

“Thanks.” Katniss says. “Where’s (Y/n)?”

“I’m here.” You tell her.

You continue dragging your feet through the sand, wanting to go to the water to clean the blood out of your hair before it dries. Katniss comes to join you soon after, mostly to clean her weapons. When she sees that you’re having trouble, she carefully massages the blood out.

When you’re done, Katniss goes to get moss from the jungle to dry off her arrows. You sit in the sand with your sword, haphazardly playing with the blade.

“Where did they go?” Katniss asks.

“The bodies? We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone.” Finnick says.

Katniss hums. The four of you sit on the beach in silence, staring at the water, watching the sky come to life. Katniss starts to scratch her arm, and then stops suddenly, looking at you, and then to the boys. You follow her gaze curiously, and find them scratching at their faces.

It’s the scabs from the fog, Katniss’s skin is covered in them, so is half of Peeta’s body and Finnick’s face. You, however, not so much. You were able to stay ahead of the fog, you thought to guide them out with the best possible path. Still, Peeta has trouble with his prosthetic leg and he needed support and…

Finnick never should have asked Katniss to carry Mags down the hill. You knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth that he was making a mistake. Katniss doesn’t have that sort of strength, she’s a skinny girl. She might’ve put on some weight since her Games, but it basically replenished what was taken in the first place.

He should’ve asked you. And even though you tried to object, he shut you down and told you to keep running. You didn’t have time to argue with the fog closing in, so you went right back to what you’d been doing before. It wasn’t even three minutes later when Katniss fell with Mags on her, causing Mags to take the situation into her own hands.

She kissed Finnick goodbye and walked into the fog.

None of you have mentioned it since it happened. You would like to say something to Finnick, but you’re sure it wouldn’t go over well with him. You can guess what he’d say back to you, taking none of your feelings about her into consideration. Besides, he seems to be holding it together pretty well, the last thing you’d want to do is accidentally send him over the edge.

“Don’t scratch.” Katniss tells them. “You’ll only bring infection. Think it’s safe to try for the water again?”

You don’t move from where you sit, letting them go back into the jungle to gather water. You’ve already had more than your fair share of injury in the past hour and a half, you’ll let them take their chances.

Peeta brings back a shell of water for you to drink, and even goes back one more time for a refill. You thank him and tuck the shell of water into the sand for later. 

“Why don’t you three get some rest?” Katniss asks. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Katniss, I’d rather.” Finnick says.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Katniss concedes. “All right, Finnick, thanks.”

Katniss and Peeta lay down in the sand, you don’t bother. You turn your back to Finnick to ensure he knows you’re disinterested in conversing with him. You spend the next few hours picking the clumps of bloody sand from your sword and flicking them toward the water.

You’re not entirely sure what Finnick does, and you don’t really care. The more you think about him and the alliance, the more irritated you grow, causing your pounding headache to get worse. 

First, he tells you that he’s going to get you kicked out of the alliance by talking to Haymitch before you, and he nearly does. It’s a good thing that Haymitch doesn’t make rash decisions, otherwise you’d be on your own right now. He was almost convinced that you’d be more harmful than useful to the rebellion.

It wasn’t until Katniss made a comment about how much she trusts you, did he make up his mind and tell Finnick to deal with it. Katniss doesn’t like people easily. It was different for Mags, Wiress and Beetee because they don’t really pose a threat to her, and she doesn’t think that they’d go out of their way to kill her.

With you, all she told Haymitch was that it was easy to talk to you and she didn’t feel like she had to hide her true feelings. Which is an accomplishment and something you can use to your advantage later if needed. For right now, it’s pretty clear what she’s thinking even if she’s doing her best to hide it.

Anyway, Finnick doesn’t like that you don’t have to try with Katniss. And just like he told you in the Training Center, Haymitch had to give him a gold bracelet to symbolise to Katniss that he can be trusted. Which was funny when you found out at the Cornucopia.

Finnick was right, you didn’t make it there first—not that you thought you were anyway—but you did show up a minute later. Katniss was the one that saw you and welcomed you onto the island, despite Finnick trying to tell her not to. 

He’s been pretty pissed and cold since.

By the time Katniss stirs awake, it’s about midmorning. Your sword is clean, the shell cup empty of water, and you’re surprisingly feeling a little bit better. And it appears that Finnick has been busy this entire time.

He’d woven a grass mat and laid it on some branches to shield Katniss and Peeta’s faces from the sun. There’s two bowls full of fresh water, and a third that contains shellfish. 

He sits with them in front of him, cracking shellfish open with a stone. “They’re better fresh.” He tells Katniss, ripping flesh from the shell and popping it in his mouth. His eyes are puffy.

A tang of sadness hits you, you can’t imagine how difficult it’d been for him to cry silently with you sitting so close. His eyes lock with yours briefly before you turn away, getting to your feet. You brush the sand from your skin.

Katniss goes to reach for one of the shells but stops. She then holds her fingers close to her face, observing the blood beneath her nails.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.” Finnick says.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She says, getting up to wash the blood off in the water. She stomps back up to you two a moment later. “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.” She tells the sky.

A second later, a parachute swings out of the jungle, heading for her. She reaches up to catch a tube in her hands. “About time.” She says, going to sit next to Finnick in the sand. 

She unscrews the lid, squeezing the thick, dark ointment into her palm. Her face twists, whether it be from the color or the smell, and then begins to massage it into her leg. A sigh escapes her while she closes her eyes.

“It’s like you’re decomposing.” Finnick says after she hands him the tube. But looks must not matter to him for the moment, because he gives in and starts to treat his skin as well.

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?” Katniss teases.

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?” He asks back.

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.”

“Not if I keep looking at you.” 

Katniss offers the tube to you, but you hold up your hand, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, save it for yourselves.”

“You’ve got a couple spots.” She motions.

“I’m good, really. But thank you.”

You swing your sword, and then wander away from them, trying to put some more distance so you can sit alone for a while longer. They wake Peeta up a few minutes later, and then you can hear the cracking of shells against rocks. You don’t bother to join them for the meal, you’re still full from last night.

You draw shapes in the sand, smooth them over to start over, and then write names. It isn’t until you’re on the third one, do you realize it's the names of dead tributes that you’ve mentored recently. You stare at them, mystified as to why you’ve chosen them, of all the people you know.

A scream from across the arena interrupts the silence of the arena. Your head jerks up, eyes searching the trees beyond the Cornucopia to find the source. A wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate, a huge wave crests over the trees, coming down the hill. You get to your feet, sword clutched tightly in your hand as you watch the wave hit the center water, and distribute evenly over the Cornucopia.

The wave that comes toward you reaches your knees, going as far back as the treeline, before retreating back to the center lake. Katniss, Peeta and Finnick gather their belongings before they float away. 

A cannon fires. The hovercraft appears over where the water had come from, dipping down to collect the body. The claw comes back with the body, and that’s the last you see of the hovercraft.

You go to sit back down when Katniss’s head whips in your direction. “There.”

You turn your head, curious as to what she’s found. It’s three people stumbling on the beach, one of them being dragged onto the beach by the second, and the third is wandering in circles. They’re red, blood red.

“(Y/n), get back here.” Finnick hisses.

You don’t move from where you are, squinting at the figures.

“Who is that?” Peeta asks. “Or what? Muttations?”

The second person dragging the first suddenly drops the body, throwing their arms down at their sides and stomping their foot in anger—a move that you recognize from someone else, but can’t place your finger on. It isn’t until the person marches over to the third one to shove them over, do you realize.

“Johanna!” You shout, delighted. “Finally!”

“(Y/n)!” She replies.

You run toward her, sword swinging at your side, excited that you’re not stuck with Finnick by yourself anymore. Johanna will be able to act as a buffer between the two of you, and she’ll be able to shut him down when he gets mouthy with you now. 

You throw your sword to the side, slamming into a hug with Johanna. The two of you rotate, her laugh is musical in your ear. You’re so happy that she’s alive, you don’t know what you’d do without her.

When you pull away, you motion at her. “What are you covered in?”

Finnick walks up beside you, “Hey, Johanna.”

“Finnick.” She says, and then she motions to the jungle. “We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

A small gasp comes from you as you cover your mouth. “Johanna, I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She sighs. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee with her foot, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

Wiress has gotten back to her feet, wandering, murmuring, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.” She rolls her eyes, but at the mention of Wiress’s nickname, she’s drawn to Johanna, placing her hands on her. Johanna shoves her down to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”

Lay off her.” Katniss snaps.

Johanna’s eyes narrow at her. “Lay off her?” She hisses. In an instant, she raises her hand and goes to slap Katniss, but you’re able to grab her wrist before she’s successful, pulling Johanna away from her.  “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

Finnick steps in, tossing Johanna over his shoulder, forcing you to let go of her while he brings her to the water. You listen and watch as she screams some really insulting words at Katniss, and then Finnick drops her into the water to silence her. He does this until she goes quiet.

Katniss and Peeta take Beetee and Wiress to the water to clean the blood off of them, since they’re both incapable of doing it themselves. You wander to join Finnick and Johanna in the water, despite the unwelcoming glares you receive from Finnick.

—

“Get up.” Katniss suddenly orders, shaking Peeta, Finnick and Johanna awake. “Get up—we have to move.”

It’s about noon, judging by how the sun is positioned directly overhead in the sky. It’s been a relatively quiet morning these past couple hours, mostly because the entire group has spent it napping on the beach. For a while, you were sitting with both Johanna and Katniss, but Johanna eventually got tired and laid down on the beach.

You’re not entirely sure why Katniss suddenly feels the need to move. The only event that has happened recently is an announcement of sorts from the Gamemakers. A bell tolled twelve times like it had late last night, and the lightning started again. It must mean something to her, because she stood up to look around the arena.

“What is it?” Johanna slaps Katniss’s hand away.

“I think the arena works like a clock.” She says, Peeta rubs the sleep out of his eyes, while Finnick squints at the surrounding jungle. “(Y/n), you remember last night when the bell tolled?”

“Yeah.” You pull your knees to your chest, watching her.

“It was because it was midnight, and the start of the clock.”

“Twelve bongs.” Finnick murmurs.

“Yes.” She nods. “Wiress figured it out first, that’s why she’s tick-tocking. She’s trying to tell us the arena’s a clock.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Johanna says, shaking her head. 

“It does.” Katniss tells her. “Lightning at midnight, blood rain at two, poisonous fog at three, monkey mutts at four…” She trails off, assuming you get what she’s saying. 

Peeta’s nodding, looking down at the sand. “It’d explain why we had to deal with the fog and monkeys back-to-back.”

“So what’s going to happen now, then?” Johanna asks.

“Blood rain.” Finnick tells her.

The group of you sit in silence for a moment, digesting this. If she’s right, then that does mean you have to move, or at least get to a point in the arena where you can observe. After that, you could move from wedge to wedge to avoid what lurks in the jungle.

“What should we do, then?” Peeta asks.

“We need to move, get out of the way.” You say, looking at Katniss. “The Cornucopia?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Johanna agrees.

Katniss nods. 

You break apart, going to collect your belongings out of the sand, securing them to your body to carry them with you. Finnick and Peeta work together to get Beetee back into his jumpsuit, now clean of blood. 

Katniss goes to wake Wiress, who’s been murmuring in her sleep this entire time. She jolts awake, grabbing onto Katniss’s arms tightly. “Tick, tock!”

“Yes, tick, tock, the arena’s a clock. It’s a clock, Wiress, you were right.” She tells her. “You were right.”

Wiress relaxes considerably, nodding a little. “Midnight.”

“It starts at midnight.” Katniss confirms.

Wiress nods at one of the wedges. “One-thirty.”

“Exactly. One-thirty. And at two, a terrible poisonous fog begins there.” Katniss says, pointing at a different area of the jungle. “So we have to move somewhere safe now.” Wiress smiles and stands. “Are you thirsty?”

As soon as the woven bowl is handed over to her, Wiress gulps it down. Finnick gives her some of the bread from a sponsorship you missed, she slowly chews on it. From what you can see, it’s the salty seaweed bread from District Four. Yuck.

You hand Katniss her weapons, watching her secure the spile and the tube of medicine to a square cloth of a parachute before using a vine to tie it to her belt. 

Beetee’s not entirely conscious, so Peeta goes to lift him out of the sand, causing him to stir and become deadweight. “Wire.”

“She’s right here.” Peeta says. “Wiress is fine. She’s coming, too.”

Beetee tries to push Peeta off of him. “Wire.”

“Oh, I know what he wants.” Johanna rolls her eyes, crossing the beach to pick up a cylinder. It’s still covered in a thick layer of blood, making it impossible for you to see what it is. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. THa’ts how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”

You snort, she tilts her head.

“He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap.” Peeta tells her. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Katniss chimes in. “Seems like you’d have figured that out.” She says slowly. “SInce you nicknamed him Volts and all.”

Johanna’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She asks. “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were… what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”

The air becomes hard to breathe, you steal a glance at Finnick out of the corner of your eye and find his eyebrows drawn in, thinking. You can’t believe Johanna just threw that out in the open. 

Katniss’s hand grips the knife on her belt.

“Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.” Johanna tilts her head.

“Maybe we all had better be careful where we step.” Finnick says, trying to calm the situation. He gives Katniss a look, taking the coil from Johanna to set it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”

This allows Peeta to pick up Beetee without an issue. “Where to?”

“To the Cornucopia, like (Y/n) said.” Finnick says. “I’d like to watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.”

One at a time, you approach the nearest sand strip, heading to the center island. You take up the very back with Johanna, who has her arms crossed, seething. Or maybe not, you can’t see her face at the moment. Every time Katniss tries to call her out for her behavior, you know they get closer to considering killing each other. 

The Cornucopia is barren of any Careers, allowing you to spread out and pick where you’d like to be in the mouth. The weapons that remain have been thoroughly picked-over, the only thing you could possibly grab now are knives. You don’t really have any specialty weapons. You had to teach yourself how to fight with a sword.

Peeta lays Beetee in the small bit of shae that does exist. As soon as Beetee’s comfortable, he calls over Wiress. She crouches beside him, and he hands over the coil of wire. “Clean it, will you?”

Wiress nods, and hurries over to the edge of the island. She dunks the coil in the water, quietly singing a song to herself about a mouse running up a clock.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna groans, throwing her head back. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

She suddenly stops, standing up straight, coil of water in her hand, dripping watery blood onto the black rock. She points to the jungle. “Two.”

You look to where she’s pointing, and find a wall of fog seeping out onto the beach. 

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.”

“Like clockwork.” Peeta says. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

All she does is smile, and then she goes right back to singing and cleaning. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says, coming back to life. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” Katniss explains.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna asks morbidly.

“It stops signing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.”

This is clearly a topic of conversation that Katniss doesn’t want to participate in, so it drops. Johanna turns to head inside of the Cornucopia, flicking her short hair over her shoulder. Katniss and Finnick follow soon after, going to stock up their weapons.

Johanna comes out with a pair of axes, looking over the blades with a fairly impressed look. She then swings the axe forward, at the golden walls of the Cornucopia. Since it’s been softened by the sun, the blade sticks. Johanna grabs it with one hand and yanks it out.

You watch as Peeta draws a circle with his machete on a large leaf he took from the jungle. He seems to draw a map of the arena, with the jungle and beach having its own sections. And then he divides the circle into wedges. “Look at how the Cornucopia’s positioned.”

Katniss comes over to look, “The tail points toward twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, going on to write the numbers one through twelve around his circle. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He writes lightning in small print in the wedge, working clockwise to add blood, fog, and monkeys to the next three sections.

“And ten to twelve is the wave.” Katniss says, he writes it in. 

Finnick and Johanna come to see what they’re doing now. Tridents, axes and knives hanging off their bodies. Johanna pulls one of her knives from her belt, twisting it in her hand, holding the handle out to you.

You take it from her, holding it in your hands while you watch Peeta.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks JOhanna and Beetee, but they haven’t experienced anything other than the blood. “I guess they could hold anything.”

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta murmurs, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look over the clock in silence.

Silence.

Your eyes dart up, and you find that Katniss is one step ahead of you, an arrow armed on her bow, pointed at a soaking wet Gloss. Wiress is sliding toward the ground, her throat slit open, it’ll be impossible to save her. The arrow slams into his temple, killing him instantly. Johanna is already on her feet, swinging her axe into Cashmere’s chest. 

The sound of sand crunching beneath boots causes your head to whip in the direction, finding Brutus and Enobaria running up the other side. A spear drawn back in Brutus’s hand, aimed in your direction. 

And furthermore, Finnick’s.

“Get out of the fucking way!” You scream, shoving Finnick down.

The both of you hit the sand, the spear whizzing right over your heads, where you had been standing seconds prior. It slams into the golden Cornucopia, the entire head buried in the structure. Brutus had thrown it with enough force to kill you both in an instant.

Two arrows are sent back by Katniss in retaliation, but neither of them must land, because she jerks forward to chase after them. Three cannons blast in quick succession, confirming three dead; Wiress, Gloss and Cashmere. 

Katniss disappears around the mouth, with Johanna and Peeta right behind her. You and Finnick are just picking yourselves out of the sand when the ground jerks beneath you. Your shoulder slams into the sand, and then you begin to quickly roll, as the rock island that the Cornucopia sits on begins to spin, fast.

You desperately reach out, trying to find a ridge to dig your fingers into, but you only come up with handfuls of sand. The jungle has turned into a blur of green and beige as you pick up speed, water turning to mist in the air.

You’re almost at the edge of the rock when a hand clamps around your ankle, stopping you from falling off. You’re left to face the water, dizziness beginning to overcome you, until you slam to a sudden stop.

The urge to vomit rises up your stomach quickly. You yank your ankle free from whoever it is that has a hold of you, quickly crawling to the edge to puke up water and bile into the water. You try to close your eyes to make yourself feel better, but all it does is speed up the rate that you’re spinning.

The throbbing in your head returns in full swing.

When you finally finish gagging over the rock, you pick yourself up from the sand, wiping it from your skin. The others have gathered together at the mouth of the Cornucopia, just as disheveled as you are. 

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks.

You sit down while they circle the Cornucopia to confirm he’s off of the island. Finnick apparently spots him about twenty feet out in the water, and dives in to retrieve him. Katniss, on the other hand, finds Wiress in the water, the coil still clutched tightly in her hands.

“Cover me.” She tells Johanna, racing down the strip closest to her body before diving in. She swims hard, battling the hovercraft on who will get to Wiress’s body first. She reaches her first, working to loosen Wiress’s fingers, and then comes back to the center island.

By the time she makes it, Wiress is gone, as well as the two other bodies that were floating in the water. Finnick lays Beetee down in the sand, letting him get a hold of himself again. Katniss places the wire in his lap, now clean of blood, sparkling in the sunlight.

Beetee unravels a small bit of the wire, running his fingers over it. It’s a pale golden color, and it’s incredibly thin. You know Johanna was joking about him using it to garrotte people but it would be completely impossible to. As soon as you’d tighten it, it would snap. 

For a while, you sit in silence together, catching your breath, wringing the water out of your clothes or shaking sand out of your clothes. When it appears as though you’re ready to move on, Johanna stands. “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

You’re forced to recollect your weapons, since they had been strewn across the island due to the spinning. Your sword and the knife Johanna handed you are relatively easy to find. While the others have to take a moment to dig.

Beetee tells Peeta that he thinks he can walk now, as long as he’s patient and willing to go slow. It’s better than carrying him again, so Peeta helps bring him to his feet. It’s then decided you all should go to the beach at twelve o’clock, because it should give you several hours before you have to face the jungle again.

Peeta, Johanna and Finnick head off in three different directions.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail point at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick reasons. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.”

“I think Katniss’s point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of the jungle as well.” Beetee says.

You squint, face twisted. You would hope the Gamemakers didn’t shift the jungle too, that would give the entire secret of the clock away, wouldn’t it? But then again, you guess it doesn’t matter. 

“Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.” Katniss says, offering you a shrug when you look at her.

You circle around the Cornucopia as a group, picking out every detail of the jungle, only to discover that each wedge has been almost perfectly replicated. Katniss says something about how there was a tall tree in the lightning section that stood out, but now she can’t find it.

Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s footsteps, but the sand has been blown away completely from the wind. Katniss lets out a heavy sigh, “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“Only temporarily.” Beetee says. “At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says, trying to make her feel better.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s tone impatient. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She pops a hip out, crossing her arms. “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

A path is chosen at random. At the beach, they peer into the jungle, trying to judge what could be inside.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta shrugs. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects.

“I’ll at least watch your back.” Peeta offers.

“(Y/n) can do that.” Johanna waves her hand. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She yanks one of the leaves off of a tree to hand it to him.

“Wait, I didn’t agree to this.” You make a face, shaking your head.

“Then Katniss can go with you to keep the peace.” Johanna motions, Katniss nods.

You smile at her, but send a glare in Johanna’s direction, irritated that she’s already working to pair you and Finnick together. You’re tired of his presence and being forced to talk to him. You liked it yesterday when he was stubborn and refused to talk to you the entire day unless he had to.

Either way, you have no choice now. Finnick leads the way into the jungle. About fifteen yards in, he stops in front of a tree that looks like it’ll give you a good stream of water. He then holds his hand out, “Knife.”

“You have your own.” You tell him.

“Johanna gave you the best one.” He says, fingers beckoning for the knife. “It’s thinner.”

“You’ll make it dull.”

“Don’t be a pain.”

“Use your own knife.”

“No, I’m not ruining my own knives.”

“So you’ll ruin mine instead? Don’t you have like ten of them?” You motion at his belt. “Choose one of them.”

“I don’t want any of those.”

“You do realize that the knife is the only weapon I have beside my sword, right? You’re carrying like three different tridents, why don’t you use one of those?”

Finnick’s face twists at you. “Don’t tell me you’re actually that dense.”

“No, but you are.” You tilt your head at him.

Katniss shakes her head. “I know why Johanna sent me in here now.”

You look over your shoulder. “You can go, Katniss. We won’t kill each other.”

She purses her lips, thinking. “I’ve got to pee, so I’ll do that and come back.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Finnick tells her.

Katniss wanders off with her bow, heading deeper into the jungle, completely out of your sight. You look back at Finnick, who still has his hand out, waiting for your knife. You grab it begrudgingly, placing it in his hand. 

He starts to drill into the tree with the tip of your knife, ruining it immediately. You’ll get him back for this later. You’re not sure how, because trying to use his trident would make you look stupid. Maybe you’ll steal a knife off of him when he’s sleeping, since he seems to place a lot of trust in the others to watch over him.

The silence between you and Finnick is fine for the first few minutes, but you really don’t like standing over him like this without saying anything. You clear your throat, turning your body away so you don’t have to look at him.

“I’m sorry about Mags.” You tell him. “I didn’t know her well, but she was always kind to me when I was with her. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine.” Finnick tells you. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “I should’ve taken Mags during the fog, I could’ve carried her.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He mutters. “Either she died during the fog, or the monkeys, or even the Cornucopia. At least she didn’t suffer.”

You hum. “I guess that’s true.”

There’s a few beats of silence, and then he sighs. “You’ve saved my life twice now.”

You make a noise, not really interested in this topic. All he’s going to do is start keeping score. You’ll even bet he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to be in your debt.

“Hardly.” You tell him.

“You saved me from the monkey in the jungle, and if you hadn’t moved me out of the way, I could’ve died because of the spear.”

“We could’ve died.” You correct him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is.” Finnick says, he stops drilling into the tree to look at you. “I was wrong when I said that you’d get in the way.”

You shrug, not really feeling the need to thank him. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “Really.”

“Forget about it.” 

[lilmaymayy]

ya girls sick so any sick fic recs would be amaze😍😍😍

[lilmaymayy]

oh my god THIS WAS SO GOOD im so excited for this series i cannot wait!!

you did an amazing job writing😘

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends—

Summary: Dreams never held any meaning for you. Not really. Even the nightmares of the arena never held any weight in your mind except being a production of extreme PTSD. Until now.

Or alternatively,

Reader pretty much predicts Finnick's death in all it's painful, gruesome glory over the course of a couple of months through nightmares. And almost loses their sanity in the process. Almost.

Warnings: gore, nightmares, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, near death experiences, non explicit talks of prostitution and domestic violence, non explicit smut, unreliable narrator.

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

'These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss, consume.'

— Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI.

────────────

Chapter One: Warning Signs. Butterflies.

Word count: 3.1K

Warning: slightly graphic gore, death, panic attacks.

'It's funny. How warning signs can feel like they're butterflies.' —Graveyard, Halsey.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It started slowly.

You never gave much thought to dreams or nightmares or premonitions or any of those things. God was a concept long forgotten in Panem, religion an anomaly, and if this country feared the supernatural, something as vile as the Games wouldn't exist to begin with.

But it started slowly. And it did the night you were barely holding yourself together as it is. At first, you tried to chalk it up to the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell, Snow's words still echoing through your mind. Your neck was soaked with Finnick's tears, who had spent the better part of the last hour begging you to not volunteer if you weren't chosen and you refusing to make impossible promises, knowing you'd jump in to sacrifice yourself if Mags or Annie's name was drawn.

If it were possible, you'd jump in to take his place before the escort, Faire, had even finished announcing his name out loud. But it wasn't. So the second best scenario you could think of was going into the Arena with him. At least that way you could protect him.

It wasn't his fault really, you'd have done the same, begged and grovelled in front of him to stay with you here, in the safety of your home, if there were any other male victors in District 4 who could take Finnick's place too. But there weren't. He had been sentenced to death the second this new, sickening twist for this year's Quarter Quell had been signed and approved and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

So you lay in the quiet of Finnick's bedroom, his silk pillowcase soaked from your tears and Finnick's wet hair from when you had gently coaxed him into the shower and washed his hair while he blankly stared at the wall, his eyes red and his knees drawn to his chest, looking smaller than his existence could ever be. Sleep escaped your clutches even as you desperately chased it, and the only thing echoing in the room was Finnick's rhythmic and even breathing against your chest, the waves from the beach behind the Victor's Village and the swirling of the ceiling fan overhead.

You don't remember dozing off at first, or the way your fingers stilled against the top of his shoulder from where they drew delicate, invisible patterns into his skin. But you do at some point, because suddenly you're in a place even darker than Finnick's bedroom or the reality of your current situation.

You're standing in the middle of a long hallway, like the ones in a mansion owned by someone who had only seen wealth all their life, the walls old and the moss growing taking over most of the old faded wallpaper, signs of grandeur clear in the way the golden details in the ceilings still glitter in some places. Recognition is a slow poison that seeps through your consciousness as you realise where you are. Because you know this hallway, you know this mansion. Because you had spent the better part of a month here once, when you had been reaped for the Hunger Games for the first time three years ago.

But you know this is not a regular nightmare about the Games, not something triggered from the announcement of the Quell.

The air is as suffocating as you remember, the smell of dust and blood and waterlogged walls making your heart thud painfully in your chest, like a warning sign and your grip tightens around the coiled metal whip in your hand. But something's wrong. This is not a regular nightmare about the Games.

No. This is something worse.

And you can tell, by the way Finnick's standing in the snow, his own eyes wide as he takes in the darkness that stretches as the hallway fades away in front of you both, blanketed by the fog, his knuckles white around the trident in his hand.

Because he's not supposed to be here.

Finnick mentored you during your Games, he never stepped foot into the same Arena as you. Not in the real world and not even in any your dreams.

So why was he here?

Before you could ask him this question, a sound that still turns your blood to ice in your veins reaches you both. You turn to him in panic and open your mouth to tell him to run, to hide, to do something but he's already rushing towards you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him down the winding hallways of the crumbling mansion.

Something is wrong.

Because this wasn't how it had happened. There had been no one trying to protect you in the end of the seventieth Hunger Games, but rather you were trying to run away from your district partner, Markus, who had been chasing you with a bloody axe at this point. You had been running from him, the blood from your head wound where he had bludgeoned you seeping into your hair and your vision blurring with every step you took. Mutts hadn't been chasing you, you had thrown a knife down the hallway you knew they were in to get their attention, to get them to kill Markus. Because you both had been the last ones standing and Markus was hunting you.

But that's not what's happening right now.

Even in your dream, Finnick's hand feels the same as it always does: callused from all those years of fishing and training, his skin warm and his hand making your whole fist disappear in it's hold. But right now it's clammy with sweat. Or is it blood? You can't tell. Not with the way your lungs are burning from the exertion, not with the way your eyes keep losing their focus on his golden strands, not with the way his grip on your hands keep slipping and sliding from whatever makes it hard to hold.

Something is wrong.

As you near the familiar door with the old brass door knob, that had saved your life in the Games, the one you had sat behind and listened to Markus' screams over Caesar Flickerman's voice crowning you victor, you trip and land face first on the the dirty marble floor of the hallway. Finnick yelps as you almost take him down with you but his grip around your hand never falters. His green eyes are desperate as looks down at you, his hands at your waist, urging you to get up.

"Please! Please get up! They are coming please!" His voice is frantic, and you want to reassure him, find a way to get him to the door, the door that'll save you both. But your vision blurs again and the wave of dizziness that washes over you makes you whimper.

At the sound of your whimper, you feel Finnick's arms wrap tightly around you as he hoists you into his arms, holding you against his chest and bolts towards the door again, his trident abandoned where you tripped and bile rises in your throat as you watch the mutts step over it as they run towards you both, growling and snarling at the smell of fresh human blood. They are faceless and slimy, grey decomposed skin hanging off their bony limbs and the sight of them makes every cell in your body vibrate in fear. Even Finnick's arms wrapped tightly around you couldn't shake off the terror these mutts induce in you.

You know you're both nearing the door, getting closer to your one chance at survival and you let some relief seep into your heart as turn to watch him unwrap an arm from around you and twist the brass doorknob, yanking the old wooden door open hard enough that it forgets to screech and pushes you into the dust storage room. You rise on your knees, ready to pull him into your arms when he would join you on the floor, closing the mutts out behind him when he's suddenly gone from your sight, snatched away.

Something is wrong.

Your chest heaves as a guttural scream echoes from the darkness of the hallway and you whimper as you crawl as fast as you could out of the door, towards the mutts, crowded around something. No. Someone.

Finnick.

The cry that escapes you is as animalistic as the growls of the mutts and you don't hesitate to grab at them, to try and pull them away from him with your bare hands but they don't seem interested in you, too engaged in devouring him. His screams feel like acid on your ears, burning everything that makes you. Even through the chaos of blood and flesh that seeps into your jumpsuit, your eyes meet his, his green eyes wide with terror.

And then they are gone.

"NO! NO! NO! PLEASE STOP PLEASE!"

It's your screams that wake you up. Your screams and warm arms tightening around you.

"It's okay! You're okay, darling! Please!" His voice is just a touch below shouting as he tries to be heard over your frantic screaming. This wasn't the first time you had woken him up, crying from a nightmare stemming from the Games. He knew, in these instances, he needed to hold your limbs down because of your tendency to hurt yourself in your haze of fear and panic.

But he had never seen you like this, screaming yourself hoarse in terror.

Your eyes snap open and the screaming stops, replaced by ragged breathing and uncontrolled sobs that sound like growls, the growls of those mutts, which make you just sob harder. You slump against his chest and you cry like your heart will break, his arms tighten around you, clutching you against him and rocking you gently, as if to mimic the tides of the ocean and the rocking of his fishing boat on the days you joined him.

It takes a while for you to calm down, your eyes frantic as they take in your surroundings. His bedroom is now bathed in the golden warmth from the lamp on the nightstand, the fan still swirls above you both, circulating cool air. And your heart still thumps in your chest as you try to will away the final images of the dream. But you can't. They still linger behind your eyelids, just like his screams still echo inside your head.

You straighten up suddenly, putting a pause to his gentle mumbles of sweet nothings and let your hands flutter on his skin like butterflies, as if afraid of hurting him. Tracing his face, touching his neck, checking for scratches, blood, the image in your mind so gruesome and cruel that you can't help the sobs that still fall from your lips as he gently cradles your face, halting your frantic movements. His green eyes shine with concern as they peer at your own, taking in your frantic state.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm okay. It's okay." His voice is low, as if he's speaking to a frightened animal and you can't help but feel like one, your sobs turning into slow hiccups as all the fear and fight bleeds out of you. He gently tugs you into his arms again as you take in ragged breaths, willing yourself to calm down.

"What's wrong?" His voice is a breathless whisper, as if he's afraid of your answer. You still against him, and your body sags, trembling in it's desparate attempt to calm down.

"I-I had a dream." The words feel like ash in your mouth. Your entire body aches from the lingering adrenaline and panic of the nightmare, as if you're still stuck there, in the winding hallways of the mansion that was the Arena, watching Finnick get ripped to shreds.

His eyes, still red rimmed from all the tears that had lulled him to sleep earlier, are concerned as he looks down at you, gently pushing back the stray strand of hair that was curling near your cheek.

"It didn't look like a normal dream. You were screaming. You never scream when you have nightmares." He speaks softly, still rocking you gently. You close your eyes, feeling the weight of the images in your head against your shoulders again like a separate entity, haunting you.

"It wasn't. You—" The words get stuck in your throat, as if burning the delicate tissues there on their way out. As if afraid of making it worse for him than it already is. He peers at you, curiosity and concern making his green eyes seem wider.

You take a deep breath, and blink as you take in your surroundings again, unable to meet his gentle gaze. When you finally speak, your voice is barely a whisper, as if afraid of what kind of damage they'd do.

"I saw you die. And it was...it was bad."

His eyes immediately soften as you turn away from him, a broken sob escaping your lips as he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss into the back of your neck. You're grateful when he makes no indication of asking what the dream was actually about as his hand travels underneath your sleep shirt, his shirt, to caress the delicate, scarred skin of your abdomen, as if to comfort you when all you feel is wrong, wrong, wrong. For dreaming something as vile as what you did and your chest aches at the gentleness his heart is still capable of after everything the world put it through.

"I know the...announcement of the Quell..." you both wince at the word, as if there's a curse on the word itself and in a way, there really is. "...has been hard to take in but I promise you, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. You just need you to trust me."

You exhale slowly, playing with his fingers as you continue to avoid his gaze. You could feel his heart beat in tandem with yours, so different from the frantic rhythm it had when you had gently tucked him into your neck earlier that night, to pull him away from the clutches of the panic attack bruising his lungs and mind in an attempt to break out of him, drown him. You shift and turn around to face him again, gently running a hand through his hair.

"You won't need any elaborate plans if I'm in the Arena with you. We can...we can figure it out. We won't need to be so-so scared and worried-"

He breathes in sharply, his eyes hardening a little and you feel your heart clench in your chest, knowing exactly what's to follow. "Can you please, for the sake of everything I love and care for, not talk about being in the same Arena as me? Please, I'd appreciate it a lot."

You sigh, pushing your face into his neck, his own sigh of disappointment at himself for losing his temper ruffling your hair like a warm breeze. He always had to remind himself how fragile you are, to not lose himself in the moment like he did with the strangers who traced the same paths on his skin that you did. You were different. You didn't deserve the rage he had saved only for those who had hurt him or you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and shook his head, feeling the telltale sting of tears in his throat intensify.

"Please, you can't-you can't be in there with me. Please-"

Your voice is frantic as you whisper, "You know I can't just sit here and let you go in there on your own. I can't. I-I will die of anxiety if not anything-"

"But you're not doing nothing by staying here. You're giving me every single reason to return home to you. Why don't you understand that?" His frustration fades, making way for desparation as he sighs again, leaning his forehead against yours. "I refuse to go into that Arena all over again just to die. I promise you, your nightmare is just that, a nightmare. And I need you to trust me on this, I will never leave you."

He ends his speech by tugging your face out from it's hiding spot in his neck and pressing his lips to yours, gently tracing your jaw with his thumb as his green eyes search yours in hopes of finding the trust he always does. "I love you. So much. So just trust me please."

Your lips purse at his words, your heart finally slowing as the reassurances of his words finally settle into your body like a blanket. He'd never broken any he's made promises to you, not really, but you also know that this is not a promise he's capable of controlling. You sigh, and nod.

"I love you more and I do trust you. I trust you with everything that makes me. But you have to understand I can't help the panic or fear I feel."

He nods, his nose brushing yours. "I know and i don't blame you for it. I feel the same. But just trust me. And stay here, if you don't get reaped. I am begging you. Please."

You don't reply to his pleas, choosing meld your body back into his as you hide your face into his neck again and his answering sigh of exhaustion a clear sign that he's tired of this argument. Not even one day into this new reality where you are both more than likely to die in a few months and it's already creating a wedge between you both. And you hate it. But you know you can't make promises like that, not when you know you'll break them. And you know he can't either, not when he'd jump in front of you and take a dagger to the heart without any hesitation.

That's the curse of devotion, after all. Death by another and death for your lover, it becomes hard to distinguish between the two.

You push those thoughts away, disturbed by their mere existence and cursing your brain for tormenting you as you kiss the skin of his neck, your voice a mere whisper in the quiet of the bedroom, the only other sound being the waves in the distance, echoing as they crash into the shore.

"We still have months to think about these things. To plan a strategy for either scenarios. So let's just sleep for now. Please?" You feel him nod against your head and tighten his arms around you.

You can't sleep again, not that night, your mind a whirlwind of the images from your nightmare and no amount of safety his arms provide seemed to protect you from your own grief.

In a way, you're glad they don't. You'd need more than just a safety net, after all, for what is to come.

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A/N: ngl, this took a chunk out of my soul to write. Tell me what you think? All my love, Moon.

Masterlist

[jahayla-parker]

💭Headcanon: send in a character and a scenario or type of reader to get a bullet point list of thoughts on it.

finnick odair and childhood friends to lover w the reader <3

Ahhh Elll 😭 you want me to do bullet point Headcanons for this? I could do a whole fic on this 😭 he’s so precious and this is so cute

Okay, okay, here we go…

Finnick Odair Childhood Friends to Lovers Headcanons

“You”= reader cause it felt more natural that way lol

Finnick had a crush on you since you guys were little.

He’d always invite you to go with him to the beach in order to spend time together.

You guys would build sandcastles together

And he would help you collect pretty shells, loving the sweet smile it reliably brought to your face

He was the one who taught you how to swim.

Finnick was so proud when you picked it up so easily.

He was always so protective of you and he knew being able to swim would keep you safe

When reality hit, he was always so worried about your and his names being called for the reapings each year

He would always try to calm you before the event, saying how he just knew your names wouldn’t be called; even if he didn’t believe it himself.

His eyes would always look for you in the crowd during the ceremony and let out a breath of relief when you both managed to make it through another reaping.

He found himself being jealous when male classmates showed interest in you

But little did he know, he had no reason to be jealous for you’d developed feelings for him as well

Finnick was always there for you wherever you needed him.

Sometimes it was issues with your family.

Others times it was stress about the fact that the District Four residents training for the games was a daily reminder that you two could be torn apart by the Capitol should one of your names be called in the annual reapings.

Sometimes it was just hormones or other issues.

It didn’t matter, Finnick was always there.

And you were always there for him.

It was perfect.

Finnick debated about telling you his feelings multiple times.

But the sweet boy always panicked.

He loved you too much to risk losing you.

He was fine with the way things were, as long as he was able to have you in his life, things were great.

That is, until his name was called at the young age of 14.

To say you were distraught would be an understatement.

You threw yourself in his arms the moment you were allowed in the visiting room at the city hall after the reaping.

Finnick was trying to be strong for you, but he was of course terrified and he knew you knew him well enough to be able to tell.

You vowed to watch over his family

But Finnick made you also promise to stay safe and to follow any orders from The Peacekeepers who always stayed in town during the duration of the games.

You both exchanged countless other promises and words of support

You made Finnick promise in exchange that he’d win and return to you

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing him.

Your fear and heartbreak led you to take a leap you never thought you’d do

You cupped Finnick’s crying face in your shaking hands and told him that you loved him.

You nervously confessed that you didn’t mean as just friends.

You felt bad for telling him this now.

But Finnick had to know. Should something happen, he had to know that he was loved.

As you began to apologize for the timing but explain yourself, Finnick cried and whispered to you that he loved you too

You two shared a short but passionate kiss just before the Peacekeepers entered to take him away.

You screamed and fought against the officers as they pulled the boy away

But with one pleading look from Finnick, you stopped and sniffled as you watched him be lead out of the room, away from you.

The games were excruciating.

For both of you

Finnick hated what he had to do in the arena

But he was motivated to make it back to you.

To keep his promise to you that he’d return

To be able to finish what had finally started between you two after his reaping

You were devastated as you watched your sweet boy suffer

You never watched the games before.

And you absolutely hated watching these games

Yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of the screen

Day and night you could be found watching the screen

Searching for Finnick and watching over him as he sleep

As if you could somehow keep him safe from this far away

Your heart broke for him each time you watched his reactions to having to take the life of another victor.

You were astonished and confused by the gifting of the trident from a Capitol resident.

You knew no one had gotten such an extravagant or deadly gift during the games before

You were relieved in that it would help keep Finnick safe

But there was this sensation that something was off, wrong, and you couldn’t shake it.

When Finnick won the games, you were balling your eyes out

You foolishly ran to the train station to wait for him the moment the games ended, unable to wait patiently

Only for your and Finnick’s loved ones to remind you that he would have to be paraded around The Capitol and the other Districts for a bit first

But you were still tempted to stay there until you saw him get off the train

Until you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you

Until you knew he was alive and safe (little did you know what was about to happen to poor 14yr old Finnick)

But you recalled your promise to him that you’d be safe, and staying alone at the train station for days on end wouldn’t be fulfilling that promise

When it was time for him to return, you were there bright and early.

The moment he stepped off the train, his eyes were on you.

Little did you know he had been looking through the window for you the moment the train pulled into the station

But, he wouldn’t let you show your feelings to him right now.

He’d already been confronted by Snow

He wasn’t going to take any risks when it came to your safety.

Even if that meant he had to break your heart by being distant

It was made a tiny bit easier by his shame of what he’d done during the game, he knew he wasn’t the same boy you’d fallen for and he worried you’d change your mind after knowing what he’d done in the games

Even if you hadn’t, you would if you found out what he now had to do

But he couldn’t tell you

He couldn’t stand to see you fall out of love with him

Couldn’t risk you finding him as disgusting as he now felt

And he couldn’t risk telling you his situation knowing that Snow told him to keep it a secret

But if he allowed you to embrace him and hold him right now, the way he wanted, needed, he knew Snow could and would use it against him.

If he ever even accidentally stepped out of line, he knew Snow would use you to punish him

So as much as it broke his heart to see the confusion and look of heartbroken rejection in your eyes, he continued to subtly shake his head at you as he walked through the crowd that had gathered to see his return

You watched in despair as everyone fawned over Finnick.

You could see the pain in his eyes

But you seemed to be the only one who noticed it

Everyone else saw him as the proud shiny new victor, even his own mother. (A/n: his dad is said to be deceased in his wiki but his mom is still listed as alive but that’s all unclear)

But it didn’t matter that you saw the actual hurt because he hadn’t let you even approach him.

You were too heartbroken to even be angry

You’d been so worried about him and couldn’t wait to see him again

Yet it felt like he’d forgotten everything that happened before he’d left

And you felt guilty for even being upset by that

After all, he’d just gone through hell in the games

Of course he had other things on his mind

But you couldn’t help but be heartbroken about the dynamics of his return

After all, even if you’d not kissed him and confessed your love to each other, he was still your best friend

Or at least he had been when he’d left

And yet now he didn’t seem to want you around.

Yet you stayed, unable to part from him even if you couldn’t actually be close to him

After a few hours of sulking as you stayed off to the side as Finnick met with various District Four residents, including plenty of girls who suddenly were batting their eyes at him, you pulled yourself together and left

Finnick felt like the worst person in the world

Especially seeing your face whenever he had to pretend he was interested in the girls who kept approaching him

When he was finally allowed to go to his new home in Victor’s Village, he snuck away to find you

He went to your house, only to find you weren’t there

He instantly began to worry that he messed up somehow and Snow had already followed through on his threats

So he ran, literally ran, to the one place he thought you might be

And he practically collapsed in relief when he found you sitting there, staring out at the rough waves

Finnick had approached you that night

And while you were still upset about earlier, you couldn’t help but pull him into your arms as you both cried.

You didn’t have it in you to talk about the elephant in the room, not wanting to hear him tell you he’d realized there were far better girls he could be with and no longer wanted to be with you

But Finnick’s guilt was eating at him.

You’d stayed the night, at Finnick’s request, the just night only to wake up to him having nightmares.

As such, you’d been staying with him each night since he got back, holding him and comforting him through the aftermath of the games

And while he cherished the support, it made him feel even more guilty about his secret and about not explaining himself

But he selfishly couldn’t risk losing your support so he kept it in

That is, until one day he’d returned from a trip to The Capitol and didn’t see you in his new home

He ran the length of the coast trying to find you

He’d reluctantly returned to his house in Victor’s village that night and broke down in tears as his eyes landed on your sleeping frame as you rested on his couch

Upon hearing his sobs, you woke up and practically flung your half-awake body over the edge of the couch to get to him.

You had known something was going on. You knew him too well. And you knew that other victors didn’t return to the Capitol as frequently as he did. And you knew he wasn’t quite himself whenever he’d get back. You knew it took a few days for your Finnick to return. Even after he’d work through a lot of the aftermath of the games. But after no answer the few times you’d asked, you decided not to press.

But you couldn’t take that route anymore. Not when he was sobbing in your arms and holding onto you like his life depended on it.

After a lot of supportive encouragement, Finnick finally explained what Snow had forced him into.

You were downright livid.

Finnick felt horrible and couldn’t stop apologizing for what he’d done

You had reassured him for hours on end that you weren’t upset, mad, hurt, disappointed, disgusted, or any of other self-deprecating thoughts he’d feared you were feeling towards him.

It had taken a long time and lots of conversations for you two to figure out how to move forward

You wanted to go after Snow and it took everything in Finnick to convince you not to.

Meanwhile, Finnick worried he wasn’t worthy of being with you because of what he was having to do, and it took everything in you to convince him that it didn’t change how you saw him and that should he want a relationship, it didn’t mean he would be being disloyal to you

It took some time, but things slowly began to return to normal… or, closer to the way they were before his reaping, apart from that you were now officially together

Finnick kept the change in dynamics of your relationship as private as possible so Snow wouldn’t realize you became more than close friends.

But he was still the sweetest boyfriend ever

There were undoubtedly hard times wherever he had to leave

And he felt so guilty and disgusting when he returned

But with your help, he was able to feel like himself again each time

I could keep going but there’s a million different ways I could take it and it would be more of a fic at that point haha so I’ll conclude it there 💙

Finnick Odair Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @heroinhchicblog222

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[hlstead]

hii "I'm sorry for not believing you." + fluff + finnick pls 🙏

sorry - finnick odair x reader

warnings: no use of YN

all of my works are poc friendly

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The damp scent of the sea hung in the air as Finnick and I strolled along the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves providing a soothing soundtrack to our evening. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the sand beneath our feet.

Finnick's laughter, carefree and infectious, echoed against the distant calls of seabirds. His eyes, a shade of blue that mirrored the ocean, twinkled with a playful light as he teased me about the seashells scattered along the shore.

As we found a quiet spot to sit, the sand cool beneath us, I couldn't help but think about the journey that brought us here. The Hunger Games, a brutal reality we both faced, had woven our lives together in unexpected ways. Yet, in Finnick's presence, the weight of the Games felt momentarily lifted.

I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon. "Finnick, I need to tell you something," I began, the words catching in my throat.

His expression shifted, concern replacing the playful glint in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm sorry for not believing you," I admitted, the weight of my confession lingering in the salty breeze. "In the arena, when you warned me about the dangers, I doubted you. I didn't understand the depth of the Games and the sacrifices you made."

Finnick's eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"You don't need to apologize," he said, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of my hand. "The Games have a way of distorting reality. I knew you'd understand eventually."

A sense of gratitude washed over me, knowing that Finnick, despite the scars etched into his soul by the arena, found solace in our shared understanding. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the beach, but in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

"I'm grateful to have you by my side," I confessed, my gaze meeting Finnick's. "You've shown me the strength in vulnerability, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Finnick's smile, a mixture of warmth and genuine affection, lit up the twilight. "We've got each other," he said, his voice carrying a promise that echoed beyond the shores.