#finnick freaking odair

[beli-eve-ing]

can't decide on if Finnick and Annie would have a pet cat, dog or some really random and weird animal

[solar-halos]

odesta week. day #4 - throwback thursday

summary: beach meet cute. 1k

The beach is safe. Not a lot of things are, especially after Annie’s Games. 

Lucky for her, the beach is right outside her house. It’s the one nice thing about living in the Victor’s Village. 

She dives under the water until her lungs feel like they’re going to explode. Then she pops back up and does it all over again. It’s nice and repetitive and puts her mind at ease. 

She comes back up. She stops in her tracks, stunned into silence by some fucking creeper suddenly in the water with her.

She whips some sopping wet strands of hair out of her face. Oh. That’s not a creeper—that’s Finnick Odair.

“Dude!” she protests, because who the fuck just sneaks up on someone like that? Especially a victor? “What gives?”

“Huh?” Eloquent. Annie thought he was supposed to be a poet. “I didn’t even see you out here! You’re the one who scared me.”

Oh. Something about that is so incredibly funny—she scared Finnick Odair—that she starts to laugh. Some people at the Career Academy were intimidated by her, sure, but take away all her throwing knives, and what was there to be scared of?

“I can hold my breath for a very long time,” she explains. “It’s like you didn’t even watch my Games.”

She purses her lips to keep from laughing again, because she’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to be joking about that stuff. She’s still fresh out of the arena, so no one says anything about it to her, but sometimes when she’s having a really good day she’ll sprinkle it into a conversation. Kinda like she’s taking the power back.

Finnick takes a step back. She wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t for the water rippling.

“Right…” he says, like he’s not sure if he should laugh with her or start running home. Annie doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Well, it was nice running into you.”

Annie considers that. She supposes it was. She’s hardly talked to anyone since she got back, so it’s nice to know she’s still capable of normal things. Looking back, it’s a miracle she didn’t start swinging after he spooked her.

“Same here,” she says. “I’ve never seen you out here. Do you visit a lot, or are you already tired of the beach?”

“I don’t think anyone could get tired of the beach,” he replies, but he looks a lot less awkward now. He even stops taking steps back. “I usually come a lot later in the day, but I couldn’t sleep. You know how it is.”

Annie nods. She does. “Winning isn’t anything like the Academy said it would be. Night terrors are not the same as nightmares.”

“Yeah. They really need to update their curriculum.”

Annie laughs—that’s such a ridiculous thing to say, even if she can’t put her finger on why—and she knows that she reacted the right way when Finnick laughs with her. It’s strange—she saw him all the time when she was reaped, but she never spoke to him. Not really, unless they were talking about the arena, and even then he was always too drunk to tell her anything useful.

Annie leans closer so she can examine him. He seems very, very sober.

He leans back. His laughter fades into a tight-lipped smile. “What are you doing?”

“I dunno,” she admits. Of course he was sober. “It’s strange. Meeting you, I mean.”

She doesn’t need to explain what she means. He nods, obviously pleased with the fact that she’s not invading his personal space anymore. “I’m not mad about it. Like, meeting you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean—I didn’t love being jumpscared—”

“You snuck up on me!”

He’s the one that laughs first this time. “—but you’re very nice to talk to.”

That’s such a sweet thing to say that all she does is thank him. No one’s ever said that to her before—not even before she was reaped—but she’s glad that Finnick Odair thinks that she’s a pleasant conversationalist. She doesn’t ask him about it this time—or the next time they talk, or the next time—but she finally mentions it when they’re waiting for the cookies in his oven to bake. 

He grins at her. “I liked how unsettling you were.”

“What?” That was definitely not the answer she was expecting. Kinda—she knows that the Capitol thinks she’s fucking crazy, and that most people in the district think she’s a disappointment, but she has no idea why Finnick would find that appealing. “Finnick! You didn’t!”

“I did. I still do.” Ugh. It’s just like him to start firing up compliments to soften all their banter, so she crosses her arms over her chest and pretends like she isn’t blushing. “Cmon, dude—you have those big eyes and a very unpredictable mind. You kept me on my toes.”

Annie’s stomach sinks, genuinely disheartened by this information. She hopes it doesn’t show on her face.

“Oh,” she replies. She’s not sure what else there is to say. 

Somehow, he figures out she’s in a mood. He turns to her, the beginnings of a frown beginning to pull at his lips. Annie allows herself to frown, too. What gives? She’s not the one who called him unsettling and unpredictable.

“I can see how that might sound bad,” he admits. Annie rolls her eyes, suddenly a bit less offended. Boys are so stupid. “I mean, it does sound bad. I just mean that you’re very genuine. You talk to me like you’d talk to anyone else. And you ask me questions no one ever asks.”

True. And he always, always answers them. Sometimes, he’s the only person that ever does.

“So you don’t think I’m unsettling and unpredictable?” she presses.

“I retract my statement,” he confirms. Yeah—boys were stupid. Finnick makes it work. “You are not unsettling and unpredictable. You are fascinating and original.”

“Well, I’ve always been huge on free thinking,” Annie agrees.

Finnick smiles. Someone close the blinds. “That’s what I mean. I never know what you’re going to say.”

“And you like that?” She needs to be sure. 

“I like that.” 

“Okay. Well, if you were curious, I like hanging out with you because you’re the only person who ever listens to me.”

“You do like hearing yourself talk,” he says, but he’s joking, so she only bumps her shoulder into his.

“Yeah, right!” Talk about throwing stones in glass houses. “Why don’t you go recite another shitty poem?”

She’s not being mean. One time, he told her that he’s been making his poems progressively worse, just to see if the Capitol would say anything. It was a strange thing to say as someone that’s supposed to be a Capitol fanatic. Good thing that Annie knows he is not a Capitol fanatic.

“You love my shitty poems,” he shoots back. It’s true. She does (not that he needs to know that, though, so she rolls her eyes). “Annie Cresta, borne of the sea—”

Not this again! Thankfully, the timer for the cookies goes off, so she is spared from hearing him do a dramatic retelling of the poem he wrote for her. It’s a lovely poem—she just blushes too hard whenever he brings it up, which gives him a ton of leverage. 

Two can play at this game. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pair of socks she knitted for him. His feet always got way too cold, prompting him to steal the blankets from her during their late night chats. She was gonna package it up for him, but if he was gonna be like this, she might as well fight fire with fire.

He doesn’t even try talking over the timer. He examines the socks like she just revealed another world wonder to him. “Woah,” he says, his cheeks turning just as pink as hers feel. “Thank you. You didn’t need to…”

He trails off. She doesn’t even have to interrupt him anymore, because he knows she didn’t need to—she wanted to, just like how he wants to do nice things for her, too.

He puts them on, sliding all over the floor the entire time Annie takes the cookies out of the oven. It’s not very long before he topples over and eats shit.

Annie crosses over to him. And then she melts onto the floor in solidarity.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Are the socks okay?”

She rearranges herself so she can tug at his ankle, examining the socks for any wear or tear. “Yup,” she says. “Good as new.”

He nods again. “Thank you again, by the way. I really love them.”

“I’m glad. Maybe now you won’t hog all the blankets.”

“As if!” he replies. It’s his favorite phrase of hers to borrow, and her favorite phrase to hear. 

She makes a face at him anyway. He makes a face back. Then, they promptly laugh so hard their stomachs cramp up.

Huh. Maybe being a victor wasn’t all bad.

[lilmaymayy]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 5000 likes!

WOOP WOOP WOOP I NEVER THOUGHT ID GET THIS😭😭😭THANKS FOR LIKING ALL MY LIL PHOTOS AND REPOST!!!! ily😘💋

[totallywoman]

book stuff that i will never get over being cut from the movies:

•the appalachian accent of the characters

•madge

•katniss and peeta helping clean up haymitch on the train

•katniss recognizing lavinia

•katniss bawling her eyes out after her private training session

•katniss literally almost dying of thirst in the games

•rue and katniss’s relationship

•the extent of peeta’s injury

•SASSY👏PEETA👏MELLARK👏👏👏👏

•the conversations between peeta and katniss in the cave

•not using a magic cream to magically heal peetas leg like hello

•the mutts with the eyes of the tributes

•cato suffering all night

•peeta almost dying on top of the cornucopia

•katniss going insane on the hovercraft as they work on peeta

•PEETA LOSING HIS LEG

•peeta finding out it was an act

•the frequency of katniss and peeta’s nights on the victory tour train

•plutarch’s mockingjay watch

•madge and katniss’s friendship

•katniss and peeta’s bantering relationship

•bonnie and twill

•katniss breaking her heel and peeta putting her to bed

•the time katniss and peeta spent together working on the plant book during her recovery (this is where their relationship changed. i am forever bitter)

•katniss getting drunk and her breakdown after the news about the quell

•peeta coaching haymitch and katniss like careers

•katniss and peeta watching haymitch’s games (i understand this would have been hard bc there is a whole new movie coming about but shhhhhh)

•darius

•THE FREAKING ROOFTOP SCENE LIKE ARE WE SERIOUS???

•finnick’s relationship with mags and mourning her

•the way the fog left their skin all blistered so they had to put dark ointment all over themselves and looked crazy

•katniss and finnick scaring peeta by waking him up with the ointment

•the PASSION between katniss and peeta

•katniss raking her fingernails across haymitch’s face and then rage slamming her head on the table after finding out peeta was captured

•the state of katniss’s mental deterioration in 13

•katniss’s prep team being tortured

•”i’m only human, odair”

•katniss and finnick’s bonding

•delly being the first one to talk to peeta (bc why did they use PRIM??? the point was to find someone with no connection to katniss and they chose PRIM???)

•peeta listening to “the hanging tree” and asking about burdock

•katniss and johanna rooming together

•peeta frosting annie and finnick’s wedding cake

•peeta flirting with annie and taking digs at katniss in the cafeteria

•more of tigris

•katniss going completely mute after prim dies

•katniss biting into peeta’s hand while he stops her from taking the nightlock pill (this is such an important moment in their relationship)

•katniss and peeta’s burns

•katniss’s trial while being incredibly inclined to 💀

•katniss singing during her trial!!!!! bc it’s not over until the mockingjay sings

•peeta’s stay at the capitol mental institution

•katniss and peeta GROWING back together (IT’S SLOW!!!!)

•i love that they used jen’s nephews don’t get me wrong but i wish they included katniss and peeta’s daughter

•lucy gray singing the valley song in the zoo

•the tribute’s being forced to walk in the procession at arachne’s funeral

•the tribute who killed her being suspended by a crane

•maude ivory discovering mayfair’s body

•coriolanus completely taking advantage of the plinths after sejanus’ exucution

please add more!!!!!

[etherealily]

same page? // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

This was from my poll .

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings: Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Panem's most publicized situationship.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Make them speculate.

Make them wonder.

Distract them.

Entice them.

Convince them.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, kissing your temple as he did so. Your insides turned. "Are we on or off today?"

"He didn't say."

"Hm.", he murmured against your forehead. "It's up to us, then."

You took a sip of your champagne.

Listen, Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

Seven years. Seven years of this shit.

"Do you never wonder what it'd be like if we actually did end up marrying each other?"

"The entire Capitol would burn down.", you scoffed softly, eyes running around the room.

"Snow would be pissed, for one. It's a will-they/won't-they until we do."

"Which we won't."

He pouted, shaking his head as he brought your hand to his chest. "You wound me."

Your whirlwind romance had swept Panem off its feet. According to their knowledge, you'd first met at a Post-Games party, after your first time as a mentor, and you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Cue the mess.

On and off. Sometimes, never, and always. That was you and Finnick, in the eyes of Panem.

It wasn't exactly all false. In the beginning it really had just been you, Finnick, and a couple of nights that neither of you wished to label. But there was no sex, that was what was morbidly hilarious here. Just deep, drunken conversations.

In Panem, the most intimate thing you could do with someone was not sex, no, it was developing a true connection, and that's what had happened all those nights — what had scared you both.

So sue you if you didn't want to label that shit. It'd only end badly for the both of you.

Sure, Finnick might have thought he might, possibly, maybe want more. But that was only on late nights when he was watching the moon or nostalgic footage of District Four on the TV, but at the end of the day, both of you knew this decision was the best.

Toxic, definitely, but at the end of the day, although his long string of dalliances followed his reputation everywhere he went, he always came back to you.

Panem thought it was because no matter how twisted, he always loved you.

Snow thought Panem would like that.

You preferred that than actually discussing with him why he always came back.

"Off.", you replied.

"We've been 'off' too many times this year. Snow's going to freak."

He was right. "Fine. Is Caesar here?"

His eyes flicked around the room, scoping it out. "Yes."

You groaned. "He's going to lip read, then."

Caesar Flickerman was a dynamic host as well as an expert lip-reader. You'd only found that out on your second year of this charade, when Finnick had been talking to you about missing home - taboo topic around the Capitol - and Caesar had caught it.

All over the news the next day. He'd had to cover it up and say he meant you were his home. The Capitol went positively feral.

"Look at you, all sexy.", Finnick whispered, with his maddening smirk. "For me?"

"For me." He rolled his eyes. Wrong answer, his glare told you.

"Tell me, gorgeous.", he breathed, hands placed tantalizingly and strategically on your shoulders. "Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

His iconic line. He'd come up with it three years ago, and it was a cop-out for when he was too tired to come up with any other segue, and besides, the Capitol loved it. It was basically code for you to chill out on the responses, because he was way too exhausted that day.

"Do the cameras love you as much as your family does? Or do you just live here, now? In the Capitol? In the limelight?"

Wait, what?

"I live in my district. Most of the year." The hell was he doing?

"Do you now, beautiful? And why is it you're always here?"

"Why are you always here?"

"Photo ops, of course. Snow needs his best out here all the time to make the Capitol as spectacular-looking as he needs.", he replied, eyes glistening.

"I'm here for the same reason."

"Yes, but you act like you don't give a shit where you are. Like you winning the Games was nothing. Like you being bestowed with riches - more than most, actually, because of the hot little outfits that you model- is nothing. Impassive, deadpan, nonchalant, innocent but too-cool-for-school Y/N.", he mocked.

No way was he actually letting anyone lip read this.

"Caesar's not here, is he?"

He chuckled, nodding. "You're right. I just needed an excuse for you to listen."

"I will not have you judge me."

"Let me kiss you, Y/N."

"What?"

"Please."

"I am not going to let you kiss me. We've got... we can't act as if we've had this conversation in private. It has to progress slowly. Every single moment of ours must be 'accidentally' captured, and jus—"

"Same page?"

He always asked you that before he did something he thought would get the cameras off your back for a couple weeks.

"No! No, no, not this time, what?", you hissed through gritted teeth, doing your damndest to work on your ventriloquism skills.

He rolled his eyes, his lips moving to your cheek. "Let. Me. Kiss. You. I swear, you'll understand."

Finnick's knuckles on your jaw, he tilted his head, as if to say 'come on, I'm already this close'.

You acquiesced.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, before murmuring against them. "Kill Snow with me."

You didn't pull away, you didn't push him away, you didn't frown, you didn't scream. You just froze.

"Johanna— everyone, basically, is on board.", he said, in between kisses to your unresponsive lips. "And the Mockingjay. She... god, Y/N, please, I can tell you're two seconds away from killing me, but please—."

His kisses kept growing more feverish by the second, his hands cupping your face and using it to pull you closer. It was getting increasingly hard to ascertain whether he was addicted to your lips or the words he was corrupting them with.

"Finnick, Finnick, wait—"

"Please, please, Y/N." He was begging. He was pleading. "Just... shh."

"I'm not — stop.", you hissed, and he begrudgingly pulled away, though his lips lingered on your neck. "I'm not going to kill anyone. Not Snow, not you— though I should probably kill you for this. What if you're mic'd? Snow's done that befor—"

"You wouldn't be doing any of the killing, my love.", he smiled against your neck, his hands pulling you flush against his body, and something told you it wasn't even because this whole conversation was supposed to be a secret anymore.

He was drunk. You'd only seen Finnick drunk a couple times - the nights that had led you two to being friends (?) and being spotted talking (obviously fucking, according to the Capitol) - but it had never been this bad. He'd always had some form of control over his faculties.

"Finnick, there's cameras right now, we can't—"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N, more than the cameras."

One good thing about Finnick was that his words never slurred when he was psychotically, unforgivably inebriated. They simply hastened.

"Okay, Finnick, I'll get you back to your—"

"Like so much, and I—"

Before he could say something that could be picked up by the cameras around you and analysed by Caesar, you shook your head, covering his mouth with your palm.

He frowned, making unintelligible noises against your hand.

You rested your forehead against his as you whispered. "We'll talk about this later. Get some rest."

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Hours later, you knocked lightly on the door to his room before walking in gingerly.

He lay down, looking up at the ceiling as though it had every answer he could possibly need.

"Finnick?"

"I'm... a failure."

Shit. "Now, Finnick, remember what you have to do when you think like this? Think of your family. Who you're protecting."

"Oh, my god, princess, it's not himself he's disappointed at."

Johanna motherfucking Mason.

"Johanna?"

"In the flesh. But I won't be for long if you don't listen.", she reminded, elbow on her knee.

You closed the door behind you, locking it as you turned on the light. "You're in on this? It's crazy talk!"

"It's a rebellion. It supposed to sound out-there until you actually do it.", she snorted, hopping off the bay window and stretching.

"It's that District 12 Victor, isn't it? Everdeen-something? She's got you guys all riled up."

"Katniss Everdeen, yes. The Mockingjay."

"Jesus, you guys are all fuckwits."

"C'mon, baby, that's no way to be. I thought you were the polite, innocently sexy one? The one who could never even call someone stupid, let alone a fuckwit.", she pouted.

"Snow will kill everyone you've ever loved."

"He already is. Except it's slower, torturous. This way, we're nipping it at the bud so our kids don't have to go through this bullshit again. What about, uh, you two?", she teased, raising a brow as she gestured between you and a plastered Finnick groaning the headache away. "Your cute little Capitol-bred lovechild will still be made to go through the Games. You don't want that, huh?"

You groaned, yanking open the bedside drawer supply of water bottles, passing it over to him. "Jo."

She raised a brow, sitting next to you. "Y/N."

"You can't kill Snow."

"Watch me, sweetheart."

"Jo, this isn't even funny. She lucked out, alright? Katniss, you said her name was? She lucked out big time. Snow's seething. He's seething, and—"

"We know."

"Lie back down, Finnick, you're drunk."

"I'm hungover. This was a big deal for me, okay? I was nervous you'd react just like this and jeopardize it all, okay? Needed liquid courage. Cut me some slack."

"I'm leaving. I'm not going to fucking sit here and listen to you talk about a rebellion when the Capitol's at their strongest and Snow's at his angriest, it's your funer—"

"You're going back into the Arena!"

You paused at the doorway, your fingers on the frame like it was your only tether to reality. "What?"

"Heavensbee. He told us that the Quarter Quell will reap previous Victors."

"What?"

"Snow wants - needs - Katniss dead."

Your attempts to force breath to stay in your lungs proved futile when you realized exactly what that meant. "You guys are going to try protecting her?"

"We have to."

"No, actually, you don't. Finnick, please don't tell me you're going to volunteer if you aren't reaped."

He groaned, rubbing his face over his hands as he sat up. "There's one chance, and this is it. She is it."

Good lord, you were fucking surrounded by idiots.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

The moon was the only beauty you'd found in the Capitol.

Finnick had taught you to look at it. Especially when you were scared. Worried. Or feeling nothing. Or feeling everything. Or feeling too many things.

It worked, actually, but this time, you looked at the moon, and all you could remember was when eighteen-year-old Finnick pointed the moon out to newly-sixteen-year-old you.

"Beautiful, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you know it controls the tides?"

"What?"

"Yeah. That was my reaction when I first heard it, too!", he'd whispered. "It's your sweet sixteen, right? So just go ahead and pray that the tides change. Wish on the moon."

"Tides change?"

"You know, that this whole 'we're-in-love-spiel' can stop."

This had been the first ever year of this goldmine of a plotline for Capitol TV.

"I want to go home."

You'd said that some three times the past couple hours, but you knew Snow wouldn't let you do so.

"I know. Wish on the moon that you can do that, too. Wish on the moon you can spend all of your birthdays with the people you love. Well, besides me, of course.", he'd grinned, nudging your shoulder to make you laugh. "Just wish on the moon."

You'd closed your eyes to do just that.

"It'll take care of the rest.", he'd whispered.

Sweetest boy on Earth, he was back then.

Right now? Ugh. You wished on the moon that he'd get a brain.

A knock.

"What?!" Fine, snapping may not have been the best thing for you to be doing, as your blood pressure was already terrifyingly high.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, Finnick. Sure. Come in.", you mumbled, rubbing at your forehead.

"I... I can't even begin to apologise. Um... that was—"

"No, it's fine, you're good, it's wh—"

"No, that was... there is no excuse for that. Springing all that on you, and giving you all but five seconds to... I— I don't even know what I was thinking."

"Johanna got in your head, it happens.", you shrugged, watching as he frowned, sitting down opposite you on your bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Huh. Your tone was understanding, but your words gave him pause.

"Same page?"

"I'd say we are."

"I don't know.", he muttered, picking at his knuckles for a second before turning to you. "Are you with us?"

"Okay, we're not on the same page."

"I thought not."

"Finnick, this is madness. Snow is at his angriest because he got his ass handed to him by two kids from District Twelve. Twelve. Like...", you scoff-laughed, gesturing wildly to illustrate the sheer bizarrity of the situation. "That shit doesn't happen every day. He's got us both going on more calls because the Patrons need to be pacified. Hell, he's now planning to send us all back into the Arena?!"

"Exactly! Don't you think it's enough?"

"What? Finnick—"

"Enough bloodshed, Y/N, please! Yeah, we're Careers, but when has that ever meant we were safe from the bullshit of the Capitol? Hm?"

"This isn't about us being Careers. It's about the fact that you could die!"

"We're going to anyway! It's like Johanna said! He's killing us slowly! We won't be able to live with ourselves once we're old and not wanted anymore!"

"FINNICK!"

"What?!"

"The first rebellion caused the Hunger Games. What the fuck do you think a second rebellion is going to bring? Hm? Mass genocide of the Districts? An arena with even younger kids? Every rebel and their families becoming Avoxes?! Are you fucking insane?!"

He paused at that. Silence. Good. At least he wasn't deluded enough not to consider the probability of failure.

You stared at him for a little while, before sighing. He wasn't weak, far from it, but you had just violently burst his bubble, the only thing he probably had going for him. And it must have been huge -and have been on his mind for a long time, a perfectly formulated plan that he was very excited about - seeing as he hadn't said anything to you.

He had a habit of doing that.

He never wanted to give you anything that wasn't just perfect.

He'd brought you back this seashell one time. From District Four. It had taken about five months for him to find the perfect one, with the best weight, the best colour, shape, texture, girth, whole shebang.

He stored your return-gift of a trident - you were masonry and weaponry district, after all - in a literal vault in District 4, until you gave him a tiny charm-version. He wore that around his neck.

Another time, he'd decided he'd write you his impression of your district from his Victory Tour. But that day, he'd been incredibly nervous, so he didn't look anywhere but his feet, and oh, how they longed to be home! In the sand, with waves kissing at his heels.

He figured he'd pretend he'd seen you in the crowd, all those years ago. In reality, you'd have only been about twelve, though you were raised above your parent's heads, so it was possible he could have seen you.

He hadn't, though.

For the case of this very humble birthday present, however, he pretended like he did. He took the wildest guess he could, that your hair was not tied up that day, and began to talk of your home.

How lovely everything had seemed.

How excited you looked.

You loved it. You really had. And he loved that you loved it.

And this whole rebellion thing was no different. He knew you'd be reluctant, but he also knew you'd secretly pray on the success of it, and he'd meticulously spent ages going through everything, every single thing, to make sure it was absolutely perfect for you, to make sure you could never call it anything but the best gift you'd ever gotten.

This, though? This argument had thrown him for a loop. You had a point. One he hadn't thought of.

"I'm—", you sighed once more, shaking your head. "Hey, I'm sorry, I... that was harsh."

He bit the inside of his bottom lip. "Mm."

"Finnick, I really am."

"Yeah, I know. I just... what if we don't fail, though?"

Wish(on the moon)ful thinking.

"Then great. But is that a chance you really want to take?"

"What if it is?" It's quiet in your room, and his response is almost engulfed in the silence, but you manage to catch it.

"Don't you think that's what the First Rebels thought?"

You were just dynamite today, weren't you? Finnick loved it when you were like this, but a tiny bit less when it was directed against him.

At least he knew he was an inch closer to receiving your amazing hugs.

"Yeah. Yeah, no, for sure."

You nodded softly, and then he kissed you.

And once more, corruption blossomed on your lips. "But you're deluded if you think when we're in that arena, I'm letting you kill Katniss."

"I won't have to if my theory is right."

"What theory?", he scoffed against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands crept up into your hair.

"That Snow will do things specifically to kill Katniss, and the only way anything will ever work is if you, I dunno, find a way to save Katniss and yourself and Peeta and Joha—"

"We're hacking into the arena."

He really hated kissing you when you didn't reciprocate, but he had to for the next few seconds when you froze, before pulling you away. "What?"

"We're... I can't tell you, but we've got District 3 in on it, they're going to get a wire and basically, like—"

"What, blow up the arena? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Are you still hungover?", you asked, placing your palm on his forehead.

He rolled his eyes, taking it in his and kissing it once. "I promise, I am perfectly fine. And yes, we have a solid plan—"

"Holy shit, this is what you meant by 'the Capitol Patrons give me information' ? I figured it was about the next Games, so you could help your tributes win, not... fuck, Finnick! This is treason!"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!"

You glared at him as he stood in sheer fury. "I'm sorry for yelling."

Wow. Sweetest boy on earth and you'd made him miserable. How do you do it?

"It's alright."

"I don't care that it's treason, alright? But we need to end this bullshit. Okay? So I will ask you for the last ever time, Y/N, because you know that whatever you say next will affect whether we see each other again. Are you with us?"

You licked your lips, picking at the duvet. "Can I have some time?"

"Reaping Day."

"Reaping Day?"

"Reaping Day. I'm not even kidding."

Yeah, he almost never was.

Fuck.

"I'll tell you by Reaping Day."

"Okay."

He didn't leave. It was a long moment of either meeting or vehemently avoiding each others eyes.

"I'm sorry about the yelling.", he repeated.

"You're not volunteering."

"What?" He was halfway out the door when you said it, and he was this close to slamming it.

"If you're not reaped, you take it as the odds being in your favor and shut up. Alright?"

He turned to you, slamming the door and leaning on it with crossed arms. Incredulity painted his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Who are you to order me around? Fucking Snow?"

"I'm—"

"Who?! My on-screen-propaganda-lover?!"

That stung more than you'd expected it to.

"Fine. Fuck you! Go ahead and volunteer. Like a fucking dumbass. Go get yourself killed because you can't handle the truth! This is how it is and how it'll always be!"

"It doesn't have to!"

"Yeah, tell that to District 13!"

"Oh, if only you fucking knew!"

"Knew what?! That your half-baked 'plan' is bound to fail?!"

"If you're such a fucking loyalist, go tell Snow the big 'half-baked' plan!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Yeah, go! Go right now, scurry off, become the fearless Savior of Panem, the title of the Most Loyal goes to you!"

You stood, attempting to shoulder past him, but honestly, you should've known better. He grabbed your arm. "If you're going, stay on your knees in front of him so we can shoot you in the back of your head when we storm the Capitol." Pretty picture he could paint, you'd give him that. He could paint a dazzling romance and a grisly murder all just with words.

"That's if you do it. You won't."

"Yeah? Watch us."

You mirrored his clenched jaw. "Let. Go."

"You don't like me holding you?", he asked, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

"No."

"In the Snow regime, in the Capitol, sweetheart, that word has no meaning.", he spat.

"Does treason? Does murder? Does anarchy?"

"Snow gave you a comprehensive list of his favourite vocabulary, how cute."

"Oh, fuck off, Finnick, alright? Let go."

"Are you with us?" He shook your arm.

"No!"

"Are you with us?" More desperation this time. But he knew you, and his eyes held a calm that suggested he knew exactly where your heart lay. With him. With the idea of a free Panem.

"I'm not!"

"ARE YOU WITH US?!", he snapped, finally yelling once more.

"YES!"

The silence had snuck back in unnannounced.

"This is why I love you. You're a fucking trip."

Great. You were not only having to play an innocent, his lover and now a rebel, but you were also, evidently, to play jester for him, since he thought you were so fucking amusing.

"Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

Oh, my god, he was being funny now, was he?

"Don't die.", you scoffed.

"Not if you won't. Same page?"

You scrambled to come up with a plan. Rig District 4's reaping? Fucking how? Beg Heavensbee for a glimpse into the arena? You barely knew if he was actually on your side, no matter how much Finnick seemed to trust him. Tell Snow and not include Finnick or Johanna or Katniss or — okay, too many variables. Oh! Wait! When he was busy protecting Katniss in the arena, you'd be busy protecting him. Okay. Could work. Right, okay.

He kissed your temple, looking down at you expectantly. He had no idea what he'd do if you hated his gift. "Right.", he muttered, after a little while of watching you play with the hem of his shirt. "I gave you till Reaping Day."

You nodded, and he whistled lowly, looking out at the window, his eyes brightening. "But... you know it's Full Moon Day today.", he grinned.

So you two sat there watching the moon for... quite a while, actually.

Wishing that the other would just fucking listen for once.

Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

But he was also the sweetest boy you knew.

So, if you had to be on the same page, you would be.

"Same page.", you affirmed, finally, when it got too late and his hands went slack around your shoulder, and your eyes started getting heavy. You were truly, in entire honesty, unable to fathom a future where the rebellion worked and Panem was free.

But your plan was at least still intact. No matter how this clearly poorly thought out rebellion went.

At least, with your plan, he'd be alright, either way.

At least he'd live.

[bloodb3nders]

chapter one.

| finnick odair x fem!reader |

wc: 3.3k (mwah!)

warnings: same as masterlist

a/n: holy freak I haven’t written in AGES. I lowkey had some success on wattpad and I had an old tumblr account but deleted everything but then I read sunrise on the reaping and I was like I have to come back also sorry I was in upper case but then didn’t feel like it so switched. also not proofread my bad babes. if u steal my work i will be forever sad, so don’t. likes and reblogs are always appreciated 🌷

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

“are you, are you, coming to the tree?”

it’s bleak. it’s always bleak. Every day is lifeless. Everyday is repetitive of the same lack of life that fills his body with despair and destitution. Today is the same as every day, no purpose, no life, no feeling.

The house is cold— it always is. Filled with furniture with colors that people from the Seam have probably never seen, and will never. the walls are slightly cream, but he’s only ever known them as gray, despite the amount of paintings that litter the wall. The display of wealth never fails to disgust him, but then again, he’s stopped noticing the finer things.

This day, like all the others, is no different from the last. His eyes still open, the sun still rises, the drink still flows.

Haymitch Abernathy, the lone victor of district 12, is drawn from his thoughts by a sharp knock at the door.

“Abernathy, open up.”

Haymitch stirs, surprised by the interruption. His usual charities from the Capitol don’t come on Thursdays. His brow furrows as he debates whether it’s worth it to even open the door, or to play dead in his living room. He’s stuck in his same chair, the blue gray velvet chair that he spends most of his time in, lost in thought or in drink, usually the latter. He can never remember the former anyways.

Another knock sounds at the door, this one more urgent than the last. Haymitch groans slightly. He’s still unsure as to who would even bother to show up at his door. No one in 12 even steals a glance at him, besides the shine stand owner down at the Hob.

“Abernathy, please.”

Haymitch’s eyebrows furrow at the desperation in the voice. With a knowing sigh that he’ll regret his next actions, he slowly moved from his chair with a groan. Even though it’s been eight years, he still feels an axe slicing his gut every time he stands up from his chair.

Shaking off the aching feeling coming from his stomach, he hobbles over to the door. He grumbles with the door knob, fidgeting it for a bit too long before he opens it ever so slowly, only revealing half of his body in doing so. He’s presentable, a loose blue sweater draped across his shoulder, and a pair of beige pants hang loosely from his waist. Both the sweater and his panda are littered in slight tears and stains. Only a child would be as so foolish to ask where the stains come from.

Standing on the other side of the door is a man Haymitch has never seen before. His face is square, and his lips are pursed. His cheeks are slightly roses and his brown eyes bare into Haymitch’s soul, distrust and slight disgust behind them. Haymitch blinks for a moment before a glint of familiarity passes through his face. However, the small thing clinging to the side of the white armor the man is dressed head to toe in Haymitch has never laid eyes on before.

“Mr. Thorne, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Haymitch asks, his voice rough. He can’t seem to recall any recent brawls or misdemeanors on his end. His drunken actions are usually contained to the comfort of his own home (and sometimes his lawn). Haymitch hopes at least, he hasn’t done anything brash to attract the attention of the head peacemaker of district 12. There’s nothing Thorne couldn’t take from him anyways.

“I need a favor, Abernathy.” The head peacemaker says, to Haymitch’s surprise. No one ever asks him for anything these days, and if they were to, it wouldn’t be favors. He furrows his brow, his mind racing as he considers what he could possibly do for the man in white armor. Before Haymitch can inquire as to why Thorne could need him, his question is answered.

“My weekly meetings with the other head peacemakers in District 2 got moved to Thursdays. They used to be on a different day each week, but the new commander requested the change. My wife, Isabella, volunteers at the school every Thursday, so there’s no one to watch y/n. We— I was hoping you could watch her.”

Haymitch’s mouth opens slightly, taken aback by the request. His eyes dart down to the little girl, whose head peaks out behind her father, well adopted father’s armor. The gears in Haymitch’s head turn as he wraps his head around the name— y/n. A spark fired as he remembered back to the mining accident a few years back that left many children fatherless. He squints his eyes as he thinks back to when he overheard the shine owner making small talk with him about it. Something about a girl orphaned, her mother having died in childbirth. He didn’t bat much of an eye. There were other deaths that haunted him far more that day.

What he doesn’t recall, is the head peacemaker of district 12 adopting her. But then again, he did remember overhearing from the shine stand owner about how Isabella was always dragging on about how he was so lucky to have five little girls of his own. He and haymitch had laughed at her ignorance. But, she was Capitol born. She had and would never know the horrors of sending a child or watching a loved one have their name pulled from a glass jar, and sent to the slaughter. Haymitch surmises Thorne simply couldn’t say no to his bumbling wife, and agreed to take the parentless girl in.

“I know it’s a bit of an ask, but we figured, that is, me and Isabella, that she’d feel more at home here.”

At that last sentence, Haymitch scoffs. Thorne winces, and awkwardly scratches the back of his head. He sighs, his eyes glancing between the child, and back to Haymitch.

“Look, it’s not really that. I know you’re the only other person in town besides the mayor who’s got a piano. The girl loves to sing, and Isabella’s been bringing her down to Tan Amber’s every Saturday for some music lessons or practice, I’m not really sure.” He pauses, as he chuckles a bit as his wife’s antics. “I know you don’t love company but she’s really a bright young thing and she’s well mannered. You’ll barely notice her.”

Thorne’s voice is oozing with desperation. Haymitch’s eyes narrow at the man. His eyes dart down to the girl beside the peacemaker, whose eyes water slightly, still gripping her father’s leg. Something in her eyes makes his heart go soft for a flicker. Not a moment, just a flicker of something innocent and kind. Something that melts just a tiny part of the iron walls that surround his heart.

With a defeated sigh, Haymitch looks back at the peacemaker. “as long as it’s just Thursdays, and she doesn’t prove to be much of a bother, she can stay. The piano’s caked in dust, but if she’s willing to clean it, she can stay.” Thorne breaks into a grin, and he bends down to talk to the girl, confusion clouding her eyes.

“Okay sweetie, daddys gonna leave you here with Mr. Haymitch. I promise he’s not real scary like those kids at school say, okay?” Haymitch inhales sharply at the comment. “He said he’ll let you play around on his piano, okay sweet girl?”

The little girl only nods in response, before throwing her arms around her father’s neck, hugging him tightly as tears prick her eyes.

“Be good for me, promise?”

“promise.”

her words are small and soft, and she plants a soft kiss on her fathers cheek before pulling away from him. She looks up at haymitch, eyes full of uncertainty. Haymitch offers her a thin-lipped, partial smile, before looking back at Thorne.

“I’ll be back by 9:30.”

Haymitch only grunts in response, before fully opening the door, and gesturing for the girl to come in. the young girl scrambled in, waving a quick goodbye to her father.

“thanks again.”

“don’t mention it” haymitch mumbled, closing the door softly behind him. He turned around, and his eyes landed on the little girl, eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. her eyes scan over the rich furniture of the Capitol, taking in the wooden chairs padded in velvet and the cushy sofa jn the living room. her eyes flit to the tv, the Capitol news playing softly in the background. after taking in the living room, she turns back to haymitch.

“daddy says you have a piano for me to play on,” she says quietly. she’s dressed in a pink and white gingham dress, her hair ties back with white ribbon. dainty pink shoes grace her feet. haymitch rubs at his temple, before gesturing towards the corner of the living room. In the corner sits a brown blob— or a covered brown object that’s never been touched. he had no reason to touch it, he’d never known how to play, and he didn’t desire to try.

haymitch walks over to the old instrument, carelessly tearing the tarp from it. the little girl ducks behind him as a cloud of dust rises from the sudden movement of the tarp. once the dust clears, haymitch grumbles under his breath, before telling the girl to stay put as he stumbles out of view. a few moments later, he reappears, gray cloth in hand. he moved past the girl to the old wooden piano, and quickly wipes off the layers of dust that have been caked onto the instrument.

Once he’s satisfied with his work, he steps back. “I’ll be reading in the other room if you need me,” he mutters.

“thank you, sir” she says, a smile etching on her face.

“haymitch’ll do just fine” he responds, and she nods.

“thanks haymitch” the young girl says, as she walks over to the piano bench and sits down. haymitch breaths slightly, looking at how the girl is almost swallowed up by the piano. keeping to his word, he trudges to another sitting room in the house, and tries his best not to collapse onto the couch. an open bottle of whiskey sits to his side, and he mindlessly grabs for it, bringing the bottle to his lips. before his eyes can close shut as he goes in for a drink, a single note rings out though the house.

haymitch’s breath hitches, bottle frozen in midair, but not high enough to make any liquid flow out. another note rings throughout the house, followed by several more.

the girl is playing.

she’s playing, happy birthday?

haymitch grunts in amusement, shaking his head slightly before throwing the bottle back, his head following as the alcohol runs down his throat. he relieved the bottle to the side table, as he listens to the tune hum throughout the house. a tiny buzzing noise starts to accompany the song, and haymitch realizes the girl is humming along.

his eyes close, a part of him silently hoping she knows another song. he’s not sure if he can put up with one song for the whole day.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

todays the third Thursday of the month. that means a walk down to the hob, and a stop in at the mellark bakery for a pastry. haymitch begins his descent down and into the town. the air is cold, but the leaves on the trees are starting to gain back some color. the browns and grays of district 12 look slightly less clearly with the green hues off setting them.

the descent doesn’t take long, and before he knows it, the hob has come into view. the light patter of footsteps beside him reminds him he’s not alone on this journey. he looks to his side, and the eleven-year old girl offers him a smile. it’s been about five years since she was first dropped off on his door, and haymitch has grown to inwardly appreciate the company the young girl lends him.

she never pries, never questions, just minds her business as she goes to play on his piano and make small talk with him about the latest courtships in the district. sometimes some Capitol gossip her mother overhears that she feels he should know. she’s polite, and she’s turning into an okay person that haymitch has learned to tolerate. she doesn’t judge him, which is mainly what he appreciates.

that, and her music isn’t half bad. she can carry a tune just fine and her song repertoire has been upgraded since her happy birthday days. he’s even taught her a tune or too.

not taught, but slipped her a piece of paper with some words scribbled on it. songs he remembers his ma singing when he was still a boy. every now and then, some lyrics would resurface in his mind, and he’d write them down.

don’t get it twisted. it’s not because he likes the girl or encourages her musical talents, but simply for his own sake. he can only handle the same three songs for so long.

although he’d never admit it, to himself or anyone, the songs that waft throughout his home every Thursday bring him a sort of reprise to his normal activities. a breath of fresh air, fresh like the morning dew in winter.

the small bakery soon comes into view, and haymitch can sense the girl next to him, riddled with excitement at the sight of the bakery. as the unlikely pair continues to make their way, onlookers sneak a glance or two at them, a few waving over to the girl, not at haymitch.

the young girl waves in response, almost breaking into a skip as they near the bakery door. haymitch chuckles lightly under his breath at the action, as they walk on the cobblestone path, ending up at the door to the bakery. there’s a few glass windows on one side of the building, offering a view of the pastries inside.

haymitch remembers peering through those same windows when he was no younger than y/n.

he moves to open the wooden door, and as he does so, a small bell chimes, signaling the pair’s entry into the tiny bakery. no one’s at the counter, except for a young boy, no more than five years old, bumbling around the shop with a broom that’s taller than him. he’s dressed in brown, with a light jacket over his shoulder. his head perks up, blonde hair mopping his head as he looks to at the two of them.

“‘elcome in!” he says cheerily, and the young girl offers him a smile, as she makes her way to the counter. a stocky, burly man comes out from the kitchen, grunting as he sees haymitch and y/n come into view.

“usual?” he asks, and the girl nods, a light squeal escaping her lips as she bounces on her feet slightly. a ghost of a smile passed haymitch’s face, as he pulls out some money from his pocket, and hands it to the mellark patriarch as he hands haymitch a brown parchment bag.

haymitch is quick to pass the bag onto his companion, which she gleefully takes with her small hands. as the pair shuffle out of the shop, she waves a quick goodbye to the small boy, who offers her a toothy grin as the pair exit.

“peeta’s getting rather large, isn’t he?” y/n comments, and haymitch shrugs his shoulders.

“I forget they have an urchin every time I go in,” he shoots back, and y/n rolls her eyes. not bothering to continue the on the subject matter, her hand reaches in to the parchment bag, and pulls out a tuft of a chocolate croissant.

instead of eating the pastry, y/n hands it out to haymitch, a silent thank you for the croissant. he snorts, and waves her off. “it’s your birthday gift, don’t go around acting charitable now,” he says, smirk in his voice. y/n shrugs her shoulders and bites into the pillowy chocolate pastry, eyes closing slightly to remember the taste of the treat.

“thanks haymitch,” she says, and he doesn’t reply, just keeps walking on back to the victors village with her.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

haymitch sighs, as he watches y/n stumble onto the makeshift stage, deep in the hob. he’d heard on and on about how she begged Thorne and his wife to put together a sort of music night, with dancing. she’d been asking for months and months, promising to sing songs that weren’t bound to land her in hot water. Thorne initially said no. He said no the first fifty times she asked.

but damn, that girl is persistent.

that, and she’d become quite the songbird around these parts. running around, singing as she went, running out to the forest to see if she could catch the mockingjays and sing along with them.

it didn’t help that Isabella and Thorne would do anything to fuel her passion. always encouraging her to sing and perform at the mayors house whenever military officials would come into town. however, she was always on a tight set list then, only singing Capitol appropriate songs, naturally.

it also didn’t help that she got a (not so) surprise birthday gift for her fifteenth birthday last year — a guitar.

you’ll never guess who got it for her (he’ll never admit it, it goes with him to the grave).

and so, she begged and begged her parents, claiming a little music night was all she wanted for her sixteenth birthday. said she the whole town would love it and it would “boost morale.”

haymitch thinks district 12 hasn’t had morale since before the war. Isabella and Thorne disagree, and finally cave after months of y/n begging them.

and so, here he is, standing behind a large crowd of folks who are buzzzing in slight anticipation. there hasn’t been any sort of music or dancing since before haymitch’s time. if he tries real hard, he can think back to a time an old woman recounted some dancing nights hosted by the covey, when they were still around.

y/n had somehow managed to wrangle old tan amber and clerk carmine to play with her, and some older folk who still remember how to handle instruments. everyone from all over twelve is here, young and old. they all talk softly, but soon grow quiet as the slight feedback of a microphone gives way.

and there she stands, dressed in an olive green dress, brown shawl draped over her shoulders, hair down with braids woven in here and there. feathers dangling from her ears. her mother and father stand off in the corner, a smile on her moms face, and her dad looking nervous he might get caught for letting such an event occur. she take a deep breath, her fingers lining up to strike a chord on her guitar, before a sling of words come out of her mouth.

you can’t take my my past

you can’t take my history

you could take my pa

but his names a mystery

nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

oh nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.

the crowd bursts out into happy cheers, as boots start to stomp and bodies start to fly around the hob. a smile breaks onto the girls face, as she picks up a tempo on her guitar, and the rest of her makeshift band follow suit.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

dido's lament: plsss if u wanna chit and chat click the come lament w me button!! mwah!

[ssweeterthanfiction]

So High School

masterlist.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair…

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who’s liked you since the first day of middle school but only found the confidence to ask you out in 9th grade.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who was all smiles when he found out he had 3 classes with you plus lunch. (He made sure he was sitting next to you in those classes.)

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who tries to make you laugh at any given chance, and when he does it makes his heart leap.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who notices that you start showing up to his practices. He sees you sit on the outdoor bleachers and read while he’s at lacrosse practice.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who walks you home afterwards and has the biggest smile on his face while he walks back home.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after talking for a while, nervously asks you out to a pizza date. (He’s exploding with happiness when you say yes.)

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after 3 dates, (one pizza date, one library date, and one movie date) finally asks you out by asking if he can be your boyfriend.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who feels like crying when you say yes.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves walking you to class, holding your books and your hand.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who introduces you to his family, but his mom already knows everything about you since he never stops talking about you.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves going to your house or to the library afterschool to watch you read and do your homework. He loves the way you get frustrated when you don’t get something right the first time, he wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses to make you feel better.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who adores it when you come to his games wearing his spare jersey or hoodie with his number. He calls you his number one cheerleader and kisses you after every game.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who spends every winter break with you and buys you the new set of books you’ve been wanting for Christmas. He also spends new years with you and of course, kisses you at midnight.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who also spends everyday of every summer vacation with you. Whether it’s at the park, the beach, your house, his house, the movies, the pool, he’s always with you. He even spends the 4th of July watching fireworks with you.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who asks you out to the prom by having his teammates, your classmates and your friends hold out flowers for you to collect while you walk towards him. He holds a sign saying “I would be Enchanted to take you to prom” He’s all smiley when you say yes.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who needs absolutely no convincing for whatever color you choose for your dress and his suit. Anything to make his girl happy.

high school boyfriend!finnick odair who freaks out as graduation nears.

He’s lying in your arms as you read. But then the thought of graduation and college comes to his mind. He calls out your name, you put down your book.

He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Finn? What’s wrong?”

“What…what are we gonna do next year?”

You look at him with a confused look. “What are you talking about Finn?”

He sits up straight. “When we go away for school. What are we gonna do?”

His voice is shaky and you can already see the tears spilling out of his eyes.

“You aren’t going to leave me are you?”

You shake your head and hug him.

“No Finn…no. I would never dream of leaving you.” you whisper softly to him.

“You mean that?”

“Course I do. I’ve loved you for 4 years…and I know I’ll love you for more Finn. We’ll figure something out.”

He kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I love you sweet girl. Forever.”

Needless to say, you and Finnick go long distance and spend every break together. You both even get your own place together in the city after you graduate. And he definitely plans on marrying you. He just needs to wait til the eras tour to make it magical for you.

this has been in my head for so long so i needed to write it out so my head wouldn’t explode :P

[harleyharlot]

THESE are some of my personal favourite fics, drabbles and imagines. i would give these creators a follow if i were you so that you can keep an eye on their amazing works! if i've mentioned your fic down below and i don't follow you, please let me know! let's become moots. again i will update this list as i go on to read more! ★

special mentions are highlighted in red! ★

-`♡´- (smut) ୨୧ (fluff) ⚡︎ (angst)

★ jj maybank

munch (@luxbub) -`♡´-

raw (@moremaybank) -`♡´-

feature me (@moremaybank) -`♡´-

mornings on vacation (@moremaybank) -`♡´-

the one where jj loves to have lunch with you (@mvybanks) ୨୧

jj fucking reader on his motorcycle (@stwrkeys) -`♡´-

banana pancakes (@https-florals) -`♡´- ୨୧

the one with your sundress (@https-florals) -`♡´-

fwb w/ jj (@rafesveryrealgf) ୨୧ ⚡︎

boyfriend material jj (@princessbrunette) ୨୧

★ miguel o'hara

nerd!miguel starts an only fans pt.1 (@cheonstapes) -`♡´-

nerd!miguel starts an only fans pt.2 (@cheonstapes) -`♡´-

overstimulating nerd!miguel (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

your boobs look heavy, let me hold them for you (@cheonstapes) -`♡´-

soft dom w/ nerd!miguel (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

desired fantasy (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

freak of nature (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

power play w/ nerd!miguel (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

eager miggy (@mybvalentine) -`♡´-

getting himself off on your shoe (@nymphomatique) -`♡´-

★ oliver quick

cruel world (@coryosbaby) -`♡´-

★ rafe cameron

we have to be quiet rafe (@rafesveryrealgf) -`♡´-

★ coriolanus snow

life lessons (@coryosbaby)-`♡´-

teacher (@coryosbaby)-`♡´-

need someone older (@snowsinterlude) -`♡´-

pregnacy kink (@snowsinterlude) -`♡´-

★ sejanus plinth

life lessons (@coryosbaby) -`♡´-

teacher (@coryosbaby) -`♡´-

size kink (@coryosbaby) -`♡´-

i don't think you're gonna fit (@murdrdocs) -`♡´-

★ finnick odair

finnick, who loves watching you a bit too much (@motelofmermaids) -`♡´-

morning sex (@motelofmermaids) -`♡´-

★ felix catton

felix letting you play with his fingers (@tojigasm) ୨୧

if you have any fic recs that you want to suggest then please let me know, i love reading! also do let me know if you read any of my suggestions and show these creators the love that they deserve!

i love you all bb’s ★

[sincere1ystar]

Sleepy Hellos

Finnick Odair x Reader

Late night conversations with Finnick (fluff)

(sorry i suck with summaries 😭)

Finnick tends to be out a lot these days, taking various jobs to save up money for the two of you to buy a little cabin by the beach. After what you’ve gone through, he wants you to live a quiet and peaceful life which is why he refuses for you to take part in the long and tiresome hours he spends at the docks near the shore like he does.

One night Finnick comes home particularly late to find you already tuckered out under the covers. He can’t help but smile at the sight of you clinging onto his pillow.

You’ve always been a light sleeper so when you hear sounds of Finnick trying to get settled in into bed, you immediately sit up. At first you feel a sense of panic pump through you, but then your eyes meet his and the panic is replaced with a wash of relief.

“Shh no need to freak out it’s okay sweet angel it’s just me”, Finnick says softly as he slowly settles you down.

“You’re home late again”, you mumble into his embrace.

“I know sweetheart I know”, he says as he holds you closer to him, “I don’t have to go tomorrow though, so maybe we can do something just me and you?

“What should we do?”, you ask in a simple manner, too tired to put in the effort for a more witty response.

“Whatever you want honey. I don’t mind as long as it makes you happy. Or if you don’t got anything in mind I could just pamper you the whole day”, he mutters softly into your hair.

“Can we go down to the lake tomorrow?”, you ask as your eyes flutter sleepily.

Finnick knows what lake you’re referring to. The lake where the two of you shared your first kiss. The lake where you two always find comfort in after long days. The lake where he first asked you if he could be yours.

“Of course we can”, he utters while tracing circles onto your scalp.

“Aww darling are you falling asleep on me”, he says as he notices your eyes fluttering.

Before you can mutter a sleepy “no”, your eyes become too heavy to open as you drift off to dreamland with Finnick holding you close. He chuckles at the sight knowing tomorrow will end the same.

[norsevvy]

i will quite literally never get over the scene in catching fire when the jabberjays are released with katniss and finnick. like katniss is wholly calm when she realises that it's Not prim and it's actually just a jabberjay

and then finnick odair comes fucking barreling in like "WHAT DO JABBERJAYS DO KATNISS? THEY COPY. OUR LOVED ONES ARE DYING AND BEING TORTURED AS WE SPEAK. THEY ARE BEING TORTURED. PRIM AND ANNIE ARE GOING TO DIE." and then they both freak the fuck out SO bad BAHAHHAA THEY'RE LIKE STARTLED CATS WHERE ONE FREAKS THE FIRST OUT AND THEN THEY BOTH LOSE THEIR SHIT

[daisyjonesgf]

Okay but like imagine Finnick Odair who takes your virginity but lets you explore him first.

He knows you’re nervous, he knows it’s your first time so he sits with you on the bed as you use travel from his face, to his shoulders, to his arms. You trace his abs with your finger, outlet transfixed on him. He lets you jerk him off so the idea of him cumming isn’t as freaky to you-

-🌾anon

literally so hot and so, so on brand for the sweetest man to have ever lived

he doesn't know how you manage to seem like the most exposed person in the world when he's the one with his clothes off, but he knows he finds it endearing. and for a while you're just standing there, staring at him, too nervous to look anywhere but his face, and it makes him chuckle, "you know you can look at me, honey"

"sorry"

"you're okay, sweetheart. y'know you can touch too." and for a while you just stare so softly, so lovingly into his eyes, that he realizes the way you're making him feel exposed now has nothing to do with nakedness. you're peeling back his soul.

eventually your hands find his hair, a place of comfort, a place that is known. running through his soft curls, tousling them, and it feels therapeutic. then your hands trail down to his face, tracing across every line and bump and curve, eyes memorizing every inch of him. then you're on to his neck, the slope of his shoulders, all familiar territory, and you're scared that going further downwards is crossing a barrier with him even if he's told you otherwise. so you pause and he knows, giving a reassuring nod that you'll not be trespassing wherever you may wander. nervously your hands are feeling the expense of his chest, getting to know his body, not just have briefly touched it in between a kiss, but know it. across his stomach, each dip from his ribs, every muscle, you learn them intently. finally you've wandered down to where you know nothing about, and you're terrified to mess something up.

"see how I'm getting harder, honey? that's me getting ready for you, kinda like when you start to get wet-" and the bluntness of his words it making your face heat up, you're burying your face into his shoulder.

"finn-"

he's chuckling again because he doesn't understand how you manage to be so adorable. "I'm gonna be inside you, sweetheart, it's okay." after a second he's leading your face away from him to have you look down. "you've never done this before, honey, and so I don't want to freak you out when I cum. you ever seen someone cum before?" and you're shaking your head, eyes all wide and attentive. "I want you to see what it is before it just happens, is that okay?" you nod, "need you to use your words, honey"

"yeah, it's okay." he's smiling softly at you and guiding your hand down to his member. helping you hold it, showing you how to move your hand.

"it'll be just like that, honey. you want to try on your own?"

you're nodding, "yeah." and you're so good, like you know how fast to go, how to grip him perfectly.

"oh, god, feels so good, doing it just right. such a good girl." and he barely catches the small whine you give out at the nam, but you keep going. eyes chasing his face for reactions to your movements, which are a plenty.

"you like it when I call you that?" and for a moment everything halts and you're staring at him like a deer in the headlights, "it's okay, honey, you can keep going. not a bad thing, don't gotta be embarrassed. just need to know what you like...fuck, feels so good. good fucking girl." and you've confirmed everything for him when you whine again and bite your lip. you keep going, memorizing the way he moves, the way his brows furroe together until finally he's nearly there. "almost...there, god, so you're gonna see what happens, god you do this so good. so much better then my hand, honey." the praise makes you go somehow even faster and he's quickly letting go.

anyways I'm in love with him, in love with this, and in love with you pookie 💋

[allisluv]

finnick and s/o during their honeymoon 🤗?

anon i love this so freaking much. i done hcs for this but im working on a blurb too, i hope that’s okay <3

some slightly nsfw thoughts are under the cut

finnick’s definitely a sucker for honeymoon sex. he calls you ‘my wife’ or ‘mrs odair’ and constantly praises you, telling you how well you're doing and how good you feel. there's also a lot of i love you's and the aftercare is just out of this world.

regardless of where you go for your honeymoon, it's going to be very romantic; rose petals on the balcony, breakfast in bed, soft kisses as he coaxes you awake.

finnick is always touching you in some way or another. he will kiss the back of your knuckles and pin you to the bed just to keep you there a few more minutes more. he is always holding your hand and pressing feather-light kisses to your forehead.

if this was set after the war, there would be a lot of relaxing involved. it would take you both a while to learn how to live without the threat of happiness being snatched away from you. you would spend a lot of time swimming or sunbathing while finnick does laps in the oceans.

its overall finnick doting on you to be honest <3

[thedelicatearcher]

Sick Finnick headcannon?

you'd also like this!!

sick finnick odair headcanons

warning: puking and implied diarrhea from food poisoning

finnick is a drama king when he feels sick. as i said in my other post, he absolutely loves being taken care of and will use the last bit of energy left in his body to demand attention from you

when he has the flu, he wraps himself in a blanket cocoon, begging you to join him and cuddle. he whines whenever a loud, painful sneeze comes out of him and makes his chest hurt.

after cuddling with him for hours and letting him bury his pink, coughy face in your chest, he eventually falls asleep, lovingly suffocating you with his weight on top of you. slowly, you try to slip out of his embrace so he can keep resting and you can go on with your day, placing a pillow in his arms so he doesn't notice the sudden change.

half an hour later, he finds you in the kitchen. he felt your absence and abandoned the bed, wrapped in tons of blankets, to look for you. a grumpy expression is on his face as he groggily demands that you go back to bed and hold him some more, stating that it's his right as a sick person to be cuddled until your arm is numb.

he says sorry every time after he coughs loudly, not wanting to annoy you with the so-recurring noise. you have to reassure him that he is not bothering you, and prepare him a warm tea to help his sore throat.

when his temperature starts rising, he freaks out. his paranoid self rambles about how he's going to die and insists that you should take him to the hospital before it's too late.

he loves playing with your hair when he feels tired and drowsy from all the medication.

he's not afraid of needles; in fact, he will be the one to ask for them if one is needed. he hates feeling sick and likes quick and effective solutions.

when he has a stomachache, he is in bed, twisting and turning like a worm. he rarely gets food poisoning. however, when a fish is not cooked enough, it gets bad for him.

he likes to talk to you from the bathroom. he gets bored so he will ask you to hang around the door and talk to him, trying to distract him from his pain.

when he inevitably ends up puking, you hold him and softly rub his back, whispering "it's okay, baby. let it out" as you try not to vomit too.

after he's done, you help him clean his face and guide him gently as he brushes his teeth. then you take him to bed, where he just feels too shaky and weak to speak.

whenever he has a headache, it is different; he gets completely thrown off by them and has to lie down. there are no whines nor playful demands.

he just wishes for you to give him an aspirin, place a cold, wet rag on his forehead, and turn off the lights.

if his headache it's manageable, he will ask you to hold him in bed. if he feels worse than usual headaches, the most he will ask of you is to hold his hand as he lies still, trying to endure the pain.

[me10dy10]

newspaper - finnick odair x fem!reader

"I too used to want him to be proud of me"

Y/n was sat on the new, leather couch in the back of the train. She kept her eyes on the floor and was listening to Finnick Odair talk to this year's District four tributes.

The female tribute tapped on Finnick's shoulder. "What's wrong with her?" She whispered, making sure y/n couldn't hear her. They watched as she would twitch every now and then and never looked up from the floor.

When the train got to the capitol, Finnick went and got the girl, carefully leading her by her hand. "C'mon, love," Finnick smiled. The two tributes watched the interaction.

"She had a bad game. Couldn't handle winning very well," Finnick told them. "She's the sweetest girl you'll meet though, she just needs to get used to you guys first."

Y/n looked up and her eyes roamed the train. "Where are we, are we here," She asked, her hand going to hold onto his arm.

"Yes. Are you ready?" Y/n nodded and sighed.

"Hey, pretty lady," Johanna Mason announced, going to hug the girl.

For the rest of the very long night, y/n held onto his arm, refusing to leave his side. All the other victors were used to it. Ever since y/n had won her games, they were always together. On the rare occasion they weren't, y/n would be with Johanna Mason.

Y/n dropped Finnick's arm and hugged the older lady. "Hello."

"Hey, Finnick."

"How've you been?"

Finnick and Johanna started talking, bragging about their tributes. Johanna looked at the girl, who had a smile on her face. "How've you been, sweetheart," Johanna asked calmly.

She had heard about the girls 'freak out' a few weeks ago. Y/n had killed two peacekeepers and severely injured herself. Her leg was healing but she still walked with a slight limp.

"Good." The girls eyes were still on the ground and still wide open. "I've been good."

"I'm glad. Well, I'll see you two around." Finnick hugged her goodbye and she walked away.

Finnick looked at the younger girl. "You doing alright, love?" He whispered into her ear, earning a nod from her. "Okay, good. Remember, if anything happens, say something. We can leave whenever."

Y/n nodded her head. "Okay."

Y/n and Finnick had got into their room, it was bigger than even what they were giving in District 4. She has changed into her pajamas and was standing, waiting for Finnick, chewing on her nails.

Finnick moved her hand from her teeth. "Don't ruin your pretty nails," he said.

"Sorry." He led her over to the bed, pulling the blankets so they could lay down. "I can do it myself," she mumbled, pushing him slightly. She took the blankets from the beds, stumbling slightly over her own feet. She was mumbling something under her breath but he couldn't seem to catch what it was.

Finnick could sense something was wrong. She refused to make eye contact and she was biting on her lip. "Y/n?" He whispered, grabbing her hands when he realized that she was pulling on her hair with her left hand.

"Get away," she mumbled, pushing him with force. He stumbled backwards but didn't fall.

"Sweetheart, let's sit down."

"Stop. Just... Just stop. I can do things for myself," she told him, her bottom lip trembling. "I can... I can do things myself I don't need you to baby me. I'm an adult. I'm not 15 anymore."

She was pacing back and forth, Finnick let her walk knowing this was better than the things she normally does when she's upset. He would rather her pace than throw something or hurt herself.

"I'm not a baby. I'm 19. I'm grown, I ca-can. I can make my own fucking bed," she scoffed, raising her voice.

Finnick slowly walked over to her, he grabbed her hands to stop her from scratching at her neck.

Y/n shoved him as hard as she could, pushing him over. "I'm not a child!" She screamed at him, tears falling from her eyes. "I can do stuff."

"Let's go to the window, honey," he whispered gently.

Finnick grabbed her from behind, holding her arms to her chest. She threw her head back, trying to knock him out. Survival instincts kicking in. He picked her up and took her to the window. He knew that all she needed was fresh air. He kept his hold on her and noticed as she began to calm down.

"Y/n. You are not a baby and you are not a child. I know this. You are so strong and I'm so impressed with how far you've come."

"I just want you to be proud of me," she whispered. Her voice cracked and she started bawling.

"I am so proud of you, love. So insanely proud of you."

[ilguna]

☼ thick and thin (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick tries to break up with you, but you won't let him.

warnings; swearing, prostituion mention

wc; 1.2k

–

If there’s one thing that your boyfriend’s terrible at, it’s hiding things from you.

Finnick was your best friend long before either of you got reaped for the Hunger Games. Which means you’ve spent most of your life around him, you’ve had plenty of time to pick up on his mannerisms to know when he’s got something on his mind.

He tries to hide it from you, especially now because he doesn’t want you to be worried about him. No matter how many times you tell him that it worries you more when he’s gone silent, he doesn’t listen. He thinks that you’re lying to him so he’ll open up more, which isn’t necessarily true.

You know everything about him that there is to know. If he knew exactly just how much you pay attention to him, he would be a little freaked out by it. Or maybe not, because there are times where you catch him staring at you while you’re doing chores or mentoring, and he’ll refuse to look away, even after he’s been caught.

Finnick has unknowingly given you this smile each time he looks at you, and it’s not a good smile. It’s the type that you give to someone when they’re dying, like they’re fragile and if your tone’s too aggressive then they’re going to cry. Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, he’s treating you as if you’re one of them—a Capitol citizen.

He’s been picking and choosing his words very carefully this entire trip, and started a week before you got onto the train. It’s beginning to get irritating. Finnick knows very well that whatever he’s trying to protect you from is going to hurt more the longer he keeps it.

Which leaves you to only one choice, and that’s forcing his hand. He’s going to be pissed when you do it, but if it were you that was treating him gently, he’d do the same. He knows that you hate secrets, why he even bothers is a complete mystery to you.

Even now, with his back turned to you, it’s painfully obvious that there’s something going on. The moment you came into the room, he drug his chair over to the window to sit on while looking out of the window. For the first fifteen minutes you thought he was reading, until you looked over his shoulder and saw that he’s staring at the streets below.

While you have no issue calling him out on his behavior, you do have trouble starting the conversation. You and Finnick don’t fight often, and it might have something to do with the fact that you like to keep the peace. It’s easier to try not to disturb the bear.

You did your part by waiting, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself these past couple of days. You waited for him to come to you first to eliminate this, it’s almost like he wants you to ask because he doesn’t want to start the conversation. He knows that it’s eating you alive.

It’s probably the whole reason why he made a show out of turning the chair around and sitting there for the past hour without moving.

“Finnick,” You begin, watching as he sits up in the chair. “This has gone on longer than I normally let it, and I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me. Will you please tell me what’s going through your head right now?”

He doesn’t speak right away, running a hand through his hair, head tilting downward, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, getting up from the bed to join his side. “You haven’t done anything besides treating me weird.”

Finnick looks at you when you stop, and you find that his eyes are bloodshot. The expression on your face falls, twisting into concern. You reach to touch his face, and he pushes your hand away.

“I love you.” He swallows, “And I think we should break up.”

You let your hand fall to your side, “That’s not happening.”

“(Y/n),” He’s shaking his head.

“No, Finnick.”

“Please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be—”

You let out a scoff, taking a step back from him so he has a better look at your face. “We’ve been together for four years, you made a promise to me last year that you’d try through thick and thin. I’m not letting you do this.”

He turns his body to face you, “It’s not your fault, I’m not saying it’s your fault. It’s me.”

“That’s what they all say.” You tell him. “Why? Why would you change your mind like that?”

“Because I have a lot more on my plate than you do.” He says, holding his hand out in the direction of the door, “Because every night I’m in someone else’s bed instead of yours. I…” He closes his eyes. “I’m not trying to start a fight, or hurt your feelings. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I told you before that I don’t care.”

“I care!” He bursts, “I wake up, I check on you. We mentor the tributes, I check on you. We end the day, I check on you, I leave to do my second job. When I come back and you’re still awake waiting for me, I feel fucking awful because I’ve kept you up.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Your eyebrows draw in. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I know you don’t have the energy.”

He sighs, “I don’t want to work this out, I just want to break up.”

“I don’t think you’re fully understanding what you’re asking for, Finnick.” You try to keep your voice measured.

“I do.”

“Baby,”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, getting to his feet, trying to escape you. “Don’t call me that, not right now.”

You reach to grab his arm, following his steps. “Finnick, you’re going to regret your decision as soon as it’s done.” You stop walking, letting him go. “If you break up with me right now, you won’t be able to sleep tonight. It’s going to kill you more than it’s going to kill me, because you’re going to wish that you can take your words back.”

He wheels around to face you, “I know what I’m asking for.”

“We can stay together. I’ll stay in my own room, so that you get more privacy and you don’t feel the need to make sure I’m okay.”

“You know that’s not going to work.” He half-laughs.

“That’s what you’re asking for anyway right now!” You shout, “You think I’m still going to sleep in your bed even though we’re not together?”

“Please, (Y/n).”

“I’m not leaving. You can’t make me, and you won’t either.” You take a breath. “I’ll always be here, whether you like it or not.”

[mollywog]

"Do you think we'd have ended up like this if only one of us had won?" he asks, glancing around at the other victors. "Just another part of the freak show?"

Actually - yes (though they’re not freaks). Under slightly different circumstances or over time, Katniss could have become the next Haymitch, Johanna, Finnick, Annie, or morphling

Haymitch Abernathy

Maybe he wasn't always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbear-able. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after year after year. I realize that if I get out of here, that will become my job. To mentor the girl from District 12. The idea is so re-pellent, I thrust it from my mind.

~

"Is that what happened to you?" I ask Haymitch.

"No. My mother and younger brother. My girl. They were all dead two weeks after I was crowned victor. Because of that stunt I pulled with the force field," he answers. "Snow had no one to use against me."

"I'm surprised he didn't just kill you," I say.

"Oh, no. I was the example. The person to hold up to the young Finnicks and Johannas and Cashmeres. Of what could happen to a victor who caused problems," says Haymitch. "But he knew he had no leverage against me."

"Until Peeta and I came along," I say softly. I don't even get a shrug in return.

Johanna Mason

Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So Ilearned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school.

~

"Of course Peeta's right. The whole country adores Katniss's little sister. If they really killed her like this, they'd probably have an uprising on their hands," says Johanna flatly. "Don't want that, do they?" She throws back her head and shouts, "Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn't want anything like that!"I can't help catching her hand as she passes me.

….

"Don't go in there. The birds -" I remember the birds must be gone, but I still don't want anyone in there. Not even her.

"They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's ho one left I love," Johanna says, and frees her hand with an impatient shake.

Finnick Odair

"President Snow used to ... sell me ... my body, that is," Finnick begins in a flat, removed tone. "I wasn't the only one. If a victor is considered desir-able, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it "

~

I'm left with Haymitch in the rubble, wondering if Finnick's fate would have one day been mine. Why not? Snow could have gotten a really good price for the girl on fire.

Annie Cresta

"You're not leaving me here alone," I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

~

"Yeah. Annie's the one who went mad when her district partner got beheaded. Ran off by herself and hid. But an earthquake broke a dam and most of the arena got flooded. She won because she was the best swimmer," says Peeta.

The morphlings

Surely she could afford food, but turned to the morphling just as Haymitch turned to drink, I guess. Everything about her speaks of waste - her body, her life, the vacant look in her eyes.

I revise my suicide plan to slow death by morphling. I will become a yellow-skinned bag of bones, with enormous eyes.