#finnick odair is papa

[libertyybellls]

WINNERS PRIZE !

one

pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader

summary; tough love turns to rough luck, mentor!finnick cant help but worship you, and victor!reader can’t wait to have him.

contains; SMUT! mdni. minor choking kink idk, oral, f!recieving, penetration, dom!finnick, sub!reader, lmk if i missed anything.

you kiss him, pull him impossibly close to you until you can’t anymore- until your lungs now beg for oxygen- but all you want to do is breath him in. you pull away, and your eyes open, nearly in shock, but more in amusement.

“believe me now?”

it’s the way he purrs if, the way it’s echoing through your ears. it makes it so you can’t answer, you’re not sure you can even think. all you want is the feeling of his lips on yours again- but what you want is wrong.

your aching for him, and where it is, is wrong. so wrong, you shouldn’t have even kissed your mentor- you should feel dirty, ashamed. and he notices your shock. of course he does.

“what’s wrong?” to him your expression is unreadable, and he’s scared. are you going to scream at him? are you going to regret it all? did he overstep? your lips on his again quiets his mind, it soothes him.

you’re pulling him into you, and he thinks he’s in heaven. there’s no better feeling than your fingertips dancing around the back of he neck, your hand grasping onto his shoulder, your soft lips moving against him.

you pull him out of his thoughts, “finnick?”

and he hears his voice when he speaks, he hears his urgency to assist to you and only you in this moment. he could care less about himself. “what is it what’s wrong?” your faces are touching, he’s looking into your eyes as yours are down at his lips, scanning over every feature of his face.

“touch me.” you don’t say where, and you don’t care. you need to feel his hands on you, grabbing at you in desperation.

and that he does, without a moment to spare his hands are mapping you out. his mouth is feverishly back onto yours, a groan being muffled by your mouths on one another.

one of his hands is controlling your movements, resting on the middle of your back. the other only slightly below it, right before the curve of your bottom, his hands are hungry and so is his mouth- devouring you.

your bodies are pressed up against one another, and he squeezes your ass- surprising you. your hips rock forwards onto his and as if in-sync, you both moan out.

he’s tented onto your heat, thin dress making you all the more sensitive. every touch made you squirm, set your skin alight. and he noticed that, it drove him mad. thinking about how delicate you were now, only making him then realize the two of you were still standing.

he hoists you onto his hips, carrying you over to the queen sized bed, and placing you down as if it would break.

“is this okay?” he asks atop you, hand tracing your jawline, dropping at your chin and gently redirecting your face to his. you nod, and he tsks, “don’t go quite on my now sweetheart, need to hear your voice.”

you could cry, all you need is to have his touch on you and you would be fine. “please.”

that wasn’t good enough for him, you can see it on his face. “please what? what is it that you want baby?”

you don’t know what you want, anything. you just want him. “please touch me finnick.” your eyes flutter up to his and he thinks this is the purest picture of eroticism. he placed a soft kiss on to your lips until moving down the straps of your dress to kiss along your shoulders.

you take it upon yourself to disregard the dress from your body. besides the fact you couldn’t stand to be in it any longer, having already done your interview in it, you needed his skin on yours.

he kisses down your body, stopping once he reaches your black panties, matching your dress that is now long gone.

he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful, your looking down at him. he can see the rise and fall of your chest- your hardened nipples through your bra.

with no warning he pulls the fabric of your underwear aside, placing one kiss on the inside of your thigh, pulling your legs apart, its all so agonizingly slow.

finnick cages himself into you, your legs placed over his shoulders. and finally, his lips and tongue are blissfully on you. his hands hold your hips as you almost squirm away from his touch.

he’s not in a rush, he’s slow, precise, and calculated with what he’s doing. he’s stops his licking to suck onto your swollen clit and looks up at you. your lips puffy, head thrown back, and your gripping the sheets.

he has to resist his urge to pull away from his found heaven between your legs to attack your exposed neck, it’s tempting but he returns to flattening his tongue and striping into your hole.

you’re in a daze, you want to see him, but it all feels too good. “i need you inside of me.” it’s almost a sob, more like a beg.

and he tries not to move too hurriedly, pressing a kiss to your bundle of nerves one more before, rising up. his shirt is over his head and his pants are unbuckled and left to lay around the room in seconds.

you can almost see all of his length through his tented boxers, it’s frightening, exciting, and you’re eager.

his lips are on your neck, your back is arching off of the bed and all you can focus are his arms flexing as he holds himself up above you. “you’re my prize y/n.” one of his hands are playing with the seashell necklace you’ve forgotten to take off.

then his lips move onto yours, you can taste yourself through the kiss, it’s sickening how much you’re enjoying this all. “the sweetest fucking prize. you’re all that i want.” he speaks through kisses, your heart is fluttering- chest warm.

it must be too good to be true, you have the capitols darling above you, telling you how badly he needs you, not just in this moment- but in every other fleeting moment of his life he’s needed you.

you see the stain of pre-cum on his boxers, and it almost makes you feel prideful. prideful that with the very little you’d done to him- it’s driven him to this point. and shortly his boxers are coming off, and he’s looking into your eyes.

he almost gets lost in your eyes, “the most beautiful thing.” his hand is moving up your neck, stopping at the side of it. you blush and look away- his stare is almost undressing you more. if that was possibly, your dress and panties were already out of sight.

he redirects your face again, “look at me.” he’s lining himself up with you, “i want you to look at me when i show you how much you make me feel.” words weren’t his strong suit, but, show you is exactly what he did.

he looks into your eyes for any hint of doubt before he’s intruding you, he sighs out-nearly and you could’ve sworn you saw stars at that beautiful noise alone.

you don’t think you’ll last long and he doesn’t think he will either, you were so tight and he had been hard for so long. he was trying to get the most out of it, not race to the finish line.

once you’ve found a comfortable pace, his hand applies pressure to the side of your neck- now you were certainly seeing stars.

this makes everything feel all the more intense, the way his lustful eyes have not left yours, the way he’s rolling his hips into you, the sounds echoing from your room, his sinful praises.

your so very stimulated, wrapped up in the pleasure of it all your head turns into the pillow as you moan out his name. “fuck, do as you’re told, y/n.” and you do, like putty under his hold you turn to face him again.

“feels’ so good finnick. i want you inside of me” you cry out, and maybe it’s the way you’re moaning his name, maybe it’s the way he’s knowing how good he makes you feel, but he can’t help but think about how it should only ever be him who has you in this position.

all he wants to do after this is protect you, to never let you cry unless it’s in his arms, to only let you get to pent up and angry at him, he wants to be the only person who makes your world go round.

he’s close and you are too, he can’t help but kiss you as he feels himself nearing the edge of it all. you’re clenching around him in a way that makes his head spin, “come with me honey.”

his raspy tone, his pressure on your throat, the knot in your stomach- it’s so perfect, so beautiful.

you reach your climax right after he does- repeating his name like a chant.

“i’ve got you.” if you weren’t so enamored by his voice you wouldn’t have heard it.

once finnick has rolled onto his side, he pulls you ontop of him, kissing your shoulders, fingers kneading into the fat of your waist. your sure you’ve left the bed in ruins, but he doesn’t care.

all finnick cares about now is you, he doesn’t want anything to change, but he wants everything to change all at once.

he wants to tell you he loves you, but he doesn’t want to disturb the ride and fall of your chest. he wants to take you away from all the pain and suffering that will come your way, but he doesn’t want to leave this bed with you just yet.

“i’m sorry.” your words are muffled by his chest. he looks down at you, running a hand through your hair. his brows are furrowed, what could an angel like you ever apologize for? “for yelling at you. it’s not your fault, i was scared.”

he’s quiet, and you look up to face his eyes, you’re scared he’s in regret. that he’s trying to escape this moment, but you see the concern in his eyes, “there will never be a moment where i don’t look out for you ever again.” he wants to swear to you that you’ll never feel a second of pain but he can’t promise that.

-

masterlist

requests are open!!!

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Just thinking about little Peeta and Katniss staying the night with Finnick and Annie so Haymitch and Effie can go into the Capitol… I will elaborate if you want :))

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[in our next life || EPILOGUE]𓆪—

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

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

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.7K

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

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

Ten years later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned. “My mother will kill me.”

He snorts. “Fuck your mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow ruffled. “No we didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow ruffled. “Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smile falls. “Why not?”

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

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

“Forever?” You ask and he nods.

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

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

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

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

“Mama, are you okay? Daddy’s crying.”

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

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

“Well, come on!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop being nasty!”

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

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

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

© asterias-record-shop

[starvember]

flip! finnick odair hc

feat mags and annie <33

🦈... primarily an older regresser — around ten or so. sometimes, on a particularly bad night, he'll regress a lot younger. his regression is a trauma response to the games.

🪼... finnick doesn't know he even regresses until mags explain it to him. all he knows is his bodys too big for his feelings and he feels spacey. she's sososo gentle when she helps him understand and promises that whenever he's feeling small, she'll take care of him. (i hc mags as an age regressor in her younger years)

🪸... finnick loves playing outside, even if theres a storm brewing on the coast. on these days, mags keeps a watchful eye from her back porch and makes him come in when the lightning gets bad.

🐚... he's so good at going down for a nap or to bed. finnick plays so hard that he's asleep before mags even has her story picked out.

🦈... finnick has one plushie thats his favorite. his childhood (pet) shark. its perfect. easy to carry. gives the best hugs. and finnick can even hide stuff in his mouth

🪼... finnick grinds his teeth really bad at night. especially closer to the time of the reaping. mags spent nearly a week decorating a pacifier for him to use at night. he's unsure of it at first, especially when it makes him slip into an even smaller headspace, but mags assures him no one except the two of them know. and his jaw feels significantly better.

🪸... he tends to slip the most to the weeks leading up to the reaping and shortly after too. the victory tour isn't as severe, but he tends to slip on the train rides.

🐚... him and annie!! finnick loves annie in every way imaginable. platonically. romantically. mags loves seeing her little finn follow annie around trying to get her attention.

🦈... mags takes care of annie too, after her games. and for a while, finnick takes on a big brother role when theyre both regressed. story time and sitting on the beach are some of her favorite activities. annie really calms finnick in a way no one else can.

🪼... i like to imagine annie didn't get bad until a few months after the games. probably around her victory tour. a constant reminder of what happened. it's now that finnick starts to care for her.

🪸... mags is fast asleep, annie went to bed hours prior, but finnick had stayed awake. she pads up to him with big, teary, round eyes and finnick melts.

🐚... every night, from then forward, finnick stays awake and waits up for annie. they sleep together most nights now, so that finnick can comfort her when she wakes up terrified.

🦈... they still regress together too! finnick is more protective of annie (still sort of taking on the cg role). on the flipside, annie becomes a lot more like her younger self. all bubbly and babbling. she loves when finnick drags her out to the flea market when theyre secretly regressed because the comments about her being 'mad' don't bother her as much

🪼... finnick likes being called anything that isn't derivative of a role (i.e not things like papa, dada, etc). mags and annie have settled on bubs (little) and bubba (big/cg)

🪸... finnick blurs the lines of little and cg a lot. there's a lot of times he's regressed while still taking care of annie. he's learned how to be both at once. (very parrell i think of being kids and growing up too fast bc of the games)

[shadowqueenjude]

Ranking best fictional characters (I only include ones I seriously like)

Hunger Games: 1. Finnick Odair (duh) 2. Katniss Everdeen 3. Peeta Mellark

Harry Potter: 1. Weasley Twins (they're a set) 2. Harry Potter 3. Luna Lovegood 4. Hermione Granger Honorable mention to Snape.

Percy Jackson: 1. Percy Jackson (is that even a question?) 2. Leo Valdez (duh) 3. Annabeth Chase 4. Jason Grace. 5. Frank Zhang 6. Hazel Levesque Honorable mention to Apollo! Kane Chronicles: 1. Zia Rashid 2. Carter Kane 3. Sadie Kane Magnus Chase: tbh I don't remember any of the characters it has been too long. I liked Magnus tho. Twilight: 1. Emmett Cullen 2. Rosalie Hale 3. Bella Swan (but ONLY in book 3) Shatter Me: DNF (I could not get behind Warner, sorry!), but Kenji was elite. Divergent: 1. Will 2. Four 3. Tris I will never NOT be mad that Tris died but Caleb fucking survived. The Maze Runner: I remember very little of this series, but I miss Teresa :(( Vampire Diaries: This is the one with the Salvatores, right? Yeah, DNF. I hated Damon from the start and I could never get behind him, sorry. The Selection: 1. Maxon Schreave 2. America Singer 3. Celeste Newsome 4. Marlee Tames Honorable mention to Amberly :)) Red Queen: 1. Mare Barrow 2. Shade Barrow 3. Cal Calore 4. Evangeline Samos Honorable mention to Farley and Kilorn Warren Throne of Glass: 1. Lorcan Salvaterre 2. Chaol Westfall 3. Yrene Towers 4. Elide Lochan 5. Dorian Havilliard Honorable mention to Papa Gavriel and Fenrys, we didn't get enough of them A Court of Thorns and Roses: 1. Lucien Vanserra 2. Eris Vanserra 3. Nesta Archeron Honorable mention to future Elain, former Tamlin, and Tarquin Crescent City: 1. Ruhn Danaan 2. Lehebah 3. Lidia Cervos 4. Tristan Flynn 5. Ithan Holstrom Honorable mention to the remaining frat boys + Hunt TV SHOWS: Pretty Little Liars: 1. Emily Fields 2. Jason Dilaurentis (I can't be the only one who wanted him and Aria to end up together, am I?) 3. Hana Marin Gossip Girl: 1. Nate Archibald (Serena, you fucked up) 2. Blair + Chuck (they're a set) Do we have the same taste? Let me know how many of these you agree or disagree with!

[chronicallyday]

⚓️ not a pin but an anchor ⚓️

Hello! Please allow me to introduce myself ☺️

My name is Day (they/them pronouns please and thank you) and I will be using this blog to post about my odesta aus and other miscellaneous thoughts about the hunger games that will mostly be crack au ideas if I’m being honest.

I wrote my first The Hunger Games fanfic weeks back, Carrick Bend, which you can find on AO3 and decided to start a blog that I can post about it and discuss further, possibly

Carrick Bend

Rating: M

Ship: odesta; Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair

Notes: a Finnick Lives AU that starts post-70th Hunger Games; mostly used for some world building headcanons, plenty of OCs used to flesh out the world

Summary:

Annie and her family had not prepared a token to be taken with her so she boarded the train with a stiff cord that her brother used to tie his own hair back away from his face. It was a short piece that couldn’t be used for anything else so it was allowed. Finnick had halved the cord and wrapped it around Annie’s wrist, securing it with his favorite sailor’s breastplate, seizing the knot so it would remain securely in place but still decorative.

At the time, Annie had traced the knot with her finger and smiled to herself. When Finnick had asked her what was so amusing she only shook her head and told him it reminded her of something her papa had told her once.

He wondered if it was similar to what his own father had told him, about how after the Dark Days for most fishermen there was only rope available to display unions of marriage. They would take cords and use basket weaving knots to decorate their brides’ wrists.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Finnick's first memory is the smell of sea salt and lilac, the soft fabric of a white shirt and long black hair, which he clutched with his chubby little hands.

And the young man who smelled of salt and lilac, who was wearing this shirt and Who had this black hair.

A a sweet, bubbly laugh, like the soft sound of the surf.

— Oh Finnick, — warm lips are pressed to the top of his head, he is a tiny baby in this memory, — be careful! Otherwise, dad Percy will be left without hair.

He is cuddled with affection and Finnick Buries his face in his chest.

the first verses of the lullaby sound "Hush now, mo stóirín

Close your eyes and sleep

Waltzing the waves

Diving in the deep".

Finnick is already nodding, curling up in a warm embrace and sweetly closing his eyes.

Dad is next to him and everything in this world is fine.

Finnick Odair wakes up in the bed of another high-ranking capitol and feels the frozen salt on his cheeks.

inside, the usual emptiness and longing.

did he ever have such a dad? or his tormented creation invented such a beautiful memory.

Finnick wants to believe that the almost mythologically wonderful "Papa Percy" was next to him and he, Finnick, really was once sincerely and selflessly loved.

he believes.

far away in another world, Percy Jackson was standing on the seashore clutching a tattered baby blanket to his chest, the last thing he had left of his son who was taken away.

He believes too.

Ouch!

But yess!

Love this!

Capitol aren't going to have anyway to run the day Percy learns what they've done to his son.

Finnick just having memories and he doesn't know if their real or not but he holds onto them.

Because their the only light his life has.

And Percy just mourning the son he's lost, never giving up on him.

[moon-girls-stories]

~ Hunger Games ~ Finnick Odair X F!Reader

Synopsis : Être la fille de Snow n'est pas toujours facile. En fait, ça ne l'est jamais. Encore plus lorsque le chéri du Capitol vous plaît. Et si ce n’était que ça…

Point de vue Reader :

Je suis allongée de tout mon long sur mon lit king size, bouquinant un vieux livre d’histoire  qui raconte la chute de l’ancienne politique. Mais je ne reste pas tranquille bien longtemps, l’un des serviteurs de mon père venant toquer à la porte de ma chambre.

-Entrez !

Le serviteur entre après mon ordre. Il se courbe en avant alors que je me redresse en une position assise.

-Jameson, je vous ai déjà dit que vous n’aviez pas à vous courber devant moi sans la présence de mon père. Redressez vous. 

-Excusez moi mademoiselle. Votre père vous demande dans son bureau.

-N’est-il pas en réunion avec les vainqueurs du 4 ?

-Il demande votre présence. Je n’ai pas plus d'informations.

Je me lève de mon lit et mets mes chaussures à talons transparents, ajustant ma robe courte faites de grandes plumes synthétiques blanches. 

-Comment suis-je, Jameson ? Et sois honnête.

-Magnifique, comme à votre habitude. Mais si je peux me permettre…

Il entre complètement dans ma chambre et se dirige vers mes bijoux. Je l’observe faire, lui souriant gentiment. Il récupère un joli collier d’épaule fait de diamant sublime. Ceci est un cadeau de Cina et César pour mon 19ème anniversaire. Il m’aide à le mettre avant de reculer de deux grands pas.

-Très bien, allons-y maintenant ou mon père risque de s’impatienter.

-Je suis convaincu qu’il l’est déjà.

Je ricane avant de mettre une main devant ma bouche. Je me tourne vers Jameson, c’est un vieux monsieur bien conservé qui est au service de mon père depuis des années maintenant. Il m’a vu grandir et a essuyé d’un revers de main tous mes chagrins. Il me connait surement mieux que mon père.

-Jameson, nous ne mettons pas dans l’embarras. Les murs ont des oreilles vous savez.

-Bien sûr, mademoiselle.

Nous marchons à la hâte jusqu’au bureau de mon père, parlant tranquillement de plusieurs sujets sans importance avant de discuter des futurs Hunger Games, ce jeu ne va pas tarder à faire son grand retour.

-Quel district allez-vous parrainés cette année ?

-Je ne sais pas encore. J’aimerai aller à la rencontre des districts un par un, être en contact avec eux pour savoir quoi mettre en place pour les aider. 

-Votre demande sera refusée, mademoiselle. Les habitants de ces districts essaieront sans aucun doute de vous tuer pour se venger du président.

-Au risque de se faire incendier par mon père ? Je ne les crois pas aussi stupide, Jameson.

-Je ne veux que votre sécurité.

-Et mon père fera toujours en sorte que je le sois. Ne vous en faites pas, faites moi confiance.

Après la fin de ma phrase nous entrons sans même avoir toqué dans le bureau. Je marche jusqu’à mon père qui est assis face aux vainqueurs du district 4. Je lui embrasse la joue tendrement en m’excusant de l’attente.

-Tu es très jolie aujourd’hui. Me complimente-t-il.

-Merci, papa. Jameson m’a aidé à choisir.

Il regarde le serviteur qui a fermé les portes et reste planté devant elle, droit comme un piqué. Il lui adresse un mouvement de tête avant de me présenter d’un mouvement de main les vainqueurs. 

-Tu dois sûrement les connaître. 

-Oui bien sûr, j’ai beaucoup entendu parler de vous.

-En bien j’espère. Me sourit le seul tribut mâle.

Finnick Odair, le chouchou du Capitol entier. Enfin il est aussi connu pour les expériences incroyables qu’il offre au lit.

-Cela dépend des domaines. 

Il me sourit, ses dents blanches bien alignées scintillantes alors que Mags pose une main sur le bras d’une petite rousse, Annie. Elle a gagné ses jeux sur un pur coup de chance. Mais je suis heureuse qu'elle ait pu survivre à l’arène. 

-Pourquoi ma présence ?

-Je voulais que tu les rencontres. J'aimerais te  laisser la gestion des Hunger Games, d’ici quelques années. Il est temps que tu apprennes.

Mon visage devient livide alors que je me tourne vers lui, complètement démunie.

-Je ne suis pas une grande fan de la violence, tu le sais bien, papa. Je ne suis pas convaincue que je sois la meilleure personne pour superviser un jeu de mort imminent.

Ma réponse n’a pas l’air de lui plaire, je le vois à la contraction de sa mâchoire et ses yeux vicieux qui se posent sur moi. Je prends une inspiration avant d’essayer de m’expliquer. 

-Ecoute-moi pour une fois, s’il te plaît. Les Hunger Games sous mon commandement seront une catastrophe, je ne peux pas faire ça aussi bien que toi. Je n’ai pas ton expérience.

-C’est pour cela que tu apprendras à mes côtés. Je serai ton formateur. Ton apprentissage commence dès cette année.

Je jette un regard à Jameson qui me fait signe d’accepter. Je me retiens de soupirer et souris à mon père, comme si j’étais heureuse de la responsabilité qu’il me donne.

-Je ne te décevrai pas, papa.

-Je le sais. Finnick s’occupera de ton introduction aux dessous des Hunger Games. Tout est déjà vu avec lui.

-Oh. Très bien. Pourquoi pas les vainqueurs du 1 ou du 2 ?

-Je m’occuperai de toi comme une princesse. Les autres sont un peu brutes.

-Mais il faut l’être pour gagner les jeux, n’est-ce pas ?

-Bien sûr, mais il faut savoir être pleins d’autres choses pour gagner.

-J’ai hâte que vous m’en appreniez plus, monsieur Odair.

Je lui souris sincèrement, ce qui semble le perturbé un peu. Mon père toussote faiblement, me ramenant à lui.

-Finnick restera au petit palais avec toi, ta sœur et les domestiques.

-Bien.

-Peux-tu l’accompagner avec Jameson ?

-Avec plaisir.

Je me tourne pour faire face à Finnick qui est déjà debout, disant au revoir aux deux femmes. Je l’observe silencieusement et patiemment, il tient à elle, cela se voit par ses gestes. Il est tendre et protecteur avec elles. Il finit par se tourner vers moi avec un fin sourire mais qui ne reflète rien de particulier. Je l’invite à me suivre alors que Jameson nous ouvre les portes. 

-Jameson, demandez aux domestiques de préparer notre voyage au petit palais. Qu’ils fassent les valises, je pense que nous allons y rester un long moment.

-Très bien mademoiselle.

-Merci. Suivez-moi, je pense pouvoir vous emmener à un endroit qui devrait vous plaire.

-Ah oui ? Quel est cet endroit, mademoiselle Snow ?

- T/P T/N.

Il me regarde en fronçant les sourcils, ne comprenant pas vraiment alors que je ricane de son état. Mais je ne compte pas lui expliquer quoi que ce soit, s’il veut savoir il devra demander.

-Par ici.

Il me suit jusqu’à l’extérieur dans les jardins avant qu’on n’entre dans une serre. On suit un petit chemin avant d’arriver sur une piscine ressemblant plus à un lac à l’eau bleu turquoise magnifique.

Je me tourne vers le vainqueur et vois sa mâchoire se décrocher. Je ricane légèrement attirant son attention alors je mets une main sur ma bouche, étouffant mon rire. Il attrape doucement mon poignet et le tire doucement vers le bas, me souriant comme s’il voulait me charmer.

-Je n’ai jamais entendu quelque chose de si mignon.

Je n’ai le temps de rétorquer que Marlo débarque comme un bourrin. 

-Ne la touchez pas, vous n’en êtes ni digne ni autorisé.

-Marlo. Ai-je coupé alors que mon agent de sécurité s'approchait de Finnick, l'éloignant de moi.

-Et vous, mademoiselle, il va falloir que l’on revoit les règles de sécurité. Me dit-il durement alors que je le regarde suppliante. Et ne me faites pas votre regard de chaton en détresse. Cela ne marche pas.

Il prend ma main et me fait prendre une distance absolument exagérée du vainqueur du 4. Ce dernier sourit, amusé de la situation, pour autant je ne trouve rien de drôle.

-Visiblement s’il faut que je révise les règles de sécurité il faut que tu révises tes bonnes manières, Marlo.

-Mademoiselle n’est pas en mesure de me réprimander.

-Et pourquoi ?

-Parce que vous vous mettez en danger telle la petite fille naïve que vous êtes !

Je fronce les sourcils, nous sommes repartis pour une longue dispute pleine de cris et d'insultes.

-Hé, n’hausse pas le ton sur elle. Elle n’a fait que me montrer cet endroit.

-Où il y a de l’eau. Et tu es un tueur hors pairs au sol autant que dans l’eau.

-Il ne me fera pas de mal, Marlo. Ce n’est pas un monstre !

-C’est un tueur, mademoiselle. C’est du pareil au même.

-Vous avez fait de lui un tueur de ce que je sache alors cessez votre hypocrisie ! 

-Mais…

-Dehors ! Immédiatement !

-Votre père… !

-Je viens de te donner un ordre, exécute le ou tu le seras.

Le grand homme en smoking noir dévisage longuement Finnick avant de me regarder froidement mais je tiens son regard.

-Je ne serai pas loin.

-Parfait, faites en sorte que je ne vois pas votre tête d’ici notre arrivée au petit palais.

Il acquiesce avant de se poser je ne sais trop où en dehors de la serre.

-Tout va bien ? Me demande le blond, le visage penché en avant.

-Ce n’est pas moi qui a été insulté. Allez-vous bien, vous ?

Il semble surpris mais chasse le sentiment en quelques secondes seulement. Cette capacité à passer d’une émotion à une autre est inquiétante. Il arbore maintenant un sourire suffisant.

-Je n’ai pas pour habitude qu’on me pose cette question. Mais ça va, j’ai vécu pire.

-J’imagine.

-Vous n’avez pas l’air de vraiment savoir mon parcours. Suivez-vous les Hunger Games, mademoiselle ?

-Pas vraiment, je n’aime pas ce jeu. Il est stupide. Je préfère lire des livres contant l’histoire. Mais récemment j’ai dû m’y intéresser. Pour vous.

-Pour moi ? Interroge-t-il, presque au bord de l’hilarité.

Je fronce les sourcils, ne trouvant pas le sujet drôle.

-Riez-vous des tributs morts dans l’arène monsieur ? Ou encore de la pauvreté dans laquelle vit les populations des 5 à 12 ? Parce que je ne trouve pas cela amusant.

-Non, pardon. 

-Vous êtes quelqu’un de bizarre. Est-ce que Marlo a raison, êtes-vous fou ?

-Je suppose qu’il faut être un peu fou pour survivre au jeu. Qu’est-ce que vous en pensez ?

-Je pense qu’il faut être courageux et fort. Dans plein de domaines.

-Vous n’avez pas totalement tort.

-Bien sur.

Un blanc s’ensuit alors que je réfléchis à ce qu’il vient de me dire. Les tributs choisis ne peuvent décidément pas tous être un peu fous. Comment mon père aurait su que ces tribus étaient fou avant même que les jeux commencent ? Soudain j’entends le bruit d’un plongeon avant que de le ne m’éclabousse sur la joue. Je laisse échapper un cri de surprise avant de regarder le lac, Finnick est dedans, torse nu, seulement avec son pantalon ample. Son tee-shirt est par terre, à quelques pieds de moi. Il ressort de l’eau plus loin, secouant la tête en reprenant sa respiration.

-L’eau est-elle à votre convenance, monsieur Odair ?

-Aussi parfaite que vous, mademoiselle.

Son compliment raisonne dans la serre alors que je ne peux m’empêcher de rire à sa bêtise. Je m’installe sur un transate alors qu’une domestique arrive pour me demander les collations que je souhaite, je lui demande simplement deux limonades fraîches. Entre-temps, Jameson revient vers moi, apportant deux trois livres pour m’occuper. Il observe longuement Finnick faire des longueurs avant que je ne lui donne un coup de coude léger sur son côté, il me regarde à présent.

-Jameson, ne le regardez pas comme s’il venait d’une autre planète. C’est impoli.

-Se mettre à moitié nu devant vous est impolie, mademoiselle.

-Je l’aurai trouvé stupide s’il se baignait tout habillé.

-Il est vrai.

-Le trouvez-vous stupide Jameson ?

-Finnick Odair est quelqu’un de très malin, mademoiselle. C’est pour cela que vous devez redoubler de méfiance.

-Vous, vous avez parlé avec Marlo, je me trompe ?

-C’est possible.

Je souris à leurs comportements surprotecteurs mais dans tous les cas Finnick va m’accompagner de partout pendant un certain temps alors autant le mettre à l’aise dès maintenant. 

-Nous partirons ce soir. 

-Superbe. Merci, Jameson. Vous pouvez disposer.

Il semble hésitant avant de se courber en avant et de quitter la serre. C’est alors que Finnick nage vers moi avant de sortir de l’eau. L’eau ruisselle sur sa peau bronzée, venant finir leur course sur son vêtement.

-La vue vous plaît mademoiselle T/N ?

Je le regarde droit dans les yeux, les joues chauffantes alors que la honte grimpe en flèche dans mon corps. Je bafouille des excuses avant de porter mon attention sur mon livre d’histoire. Il s’amuse de la situation, ricanant joliment, mais encore une fois quelque chose me dérange de sa manière de faire. On dirait que toutes ses réactions sont faussées par je ne sais trop quoi. 

Il s’assoit à côté de moi, sur le transate parallèle au mien. Je ferme mon bouquin et le fixe dans les yeux, il fait de même me souriant.

-Puis-je poser une question ?

-Vous devrez payer.

-Comment payer ?

-Oh vous voulez vraiment poser votre question… 

-Dites moi.

-Un secret. Et vous aurez ma réponse.

Je fronce les sourcils, il veut un secret ? Pourquoi faire ? Je trouve ça totalement déplacé.

-Les secrets sont personnels. 

-C’est ce qui est intéressant.

-Et les gens vous disent leurs secrets ?

-Bien sûr.

-Qu’ont-ils en échange ?

Son visage se ferme quelques secondes avant qu’il ne détourne le regard, se massant le menton, comme s’il réfléchissait à la meilleure réponse.

-Qu’est-ce que vous connaissez sur moi ?

-Que vous êtes le vainqueur mâle du district 4, tout le monde vous idolâtre au capitol mais je ne comprends pas pourquoi. Vous êtes certes beau garçon et charmant je ne trouve pas que vous avez une âme exceptionnelle.

Il me regarde comme si j’étais un extraterrestre et je ne comprends pas. L’ai-je vexé ?

-Vous ne me voulez pas alors ?

-Vous vouloir pour quoi faire ?

 -Mon corps. 

Là, c'est moi qui le regarde comme s’il venait d’une autre planète. Je prends enfin conscience de ce qu’il m’avance et je lui envoie mon livre dans la figure, le surprenant. Il se l’est pris dans le nez.

-Hé !

-Non mais qu’est-ce que vous avez dans la tête ?

-C’était une simple question.

-Nous devons nous préparer pour le voyage ! Magdalen, donnez lui de quoi se sécher et dites à Jameson de s’occuper de lui. 

-Oui, mademoiselle.

Je me tourne vers Finnick toujours aussi rougeoyante. Je ne sais pas quoi lui dire alors je le dépasse en récupérant mon second livre. Je lui laisse cependant celui qu’il a dans les mains. Je me tourne de nouveau vers lui et le lui montre de l’index.

-En espérant qu’il vous serve un minimum à vous instruire.

Puis je quitte la serre, retrouvant directement Marlo.

[conscriptur]

1. What made you pick up this character? (For Peeta, Graham & Finnick)

canon questionare.

peeta; i chose to pick him up back in 2015 and it ended in 2015 until now, bringing his muse back to life yet again. I think I initially chose him as a muse since i saw similarities between myself and him. However, now I realize back then I did not fully understand him as a muse compared to my other muses—like finnick who as everyone knows is at the front of my mind basically at all times. Writing him now, I believe I have grown a lot to understand him more and showcase not only the trauma he has experienced but the good memories as well.

finnick; the finnick fucking odair. the muse that lives rent free in my head and my blood. i chose him as soon as i watched catching fire, granted i did not begin writing him on here till i finished the books which i read after watching catching fire. finnick was the breakthrough for my love for hunger games and the one i connected lost with because he has more to him than what we get to see and i wanted to bring more depth to that. we went through our rough patch of me losing muse for him but out of everyone to resurface in my mind, it is almost always him even when i went on hiatus from writing i never stopped thinking about him. we have been through a lot together and that will continue for a long time whether i am writing him on tumblr or not.

graham; papa mellark. chosen as an impulse after reading the hunger games again. the small interaction we get with him and katniss and what we are told by katniss regarding peeta’s family, it gave me the idea to bring to life more about this baker and what all he entailed in his past and present. he is a minor character and when it comes to being a muse, not likely seen, which is sad because just like any muse he has so much potential to be something grand, especially for all the peeta muses out there. i just want to do papa mellark justice for all he has gone through since there i think is a focus on his wife and her terribleness.

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 11. defiance/struggling/crying

@whumptober2020​ Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: nonexplicit underage canon-typical prostitution, drug mention, minor character death (canon and OC), heavy angst

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Back in the Capitol, Cassian is just a few days shy of his sixteenth birthday when he receives a summons to President Snow’s office.

The summons comes on the morning of the commencement of the 63rd Hunger Games. Cassian wakes up alone; Jeron didn’t wake him before leaving for the Games Headquarters with Irga, and the tributes have long since departed for the Arena with their stylists for their final preparations. As Cassian eats his breakfast with only the silent Avoxes for company, he lets himself feel the relief he tried to hide back in District 5 when his father informed him that he wouldn’t be responsible for mentoring a thirteen-year-old boy to his certain death. But if Cassian’s not participating in the Games as a mentor, then is he supposed to stay here?

The answer comes with a knock at the door. It’s an Avox, holding out a powder blue envelope. The flap is sealed with wax, and inside is a single card. On the back, in neat type: Presidential Manor. 2 o’clock.

Jeron did not say specifically that he was expecting Cassian to stay on the District 5 floor for the duration of the Games, but he did say something important to him: If President Snow requests your presence, go. But you must tell me everything that he says. Understand? Say that you do.

Cassian says that he does, but he doesn’t. How could he? Eventually he will, but that comes later.

-

Cassian is seventeen when he receives the first calling card.

Last year, Snow had been judicious in managing the interest in Cassian; after the Bacchanal, Snow had sent him to only two patrons. One of them had been his biggest sponsor in the Games, who coolly informed him I was already owed your time, and I do my collecting with interest while the other recounted with lurid zeal how many others they had to outbid for the only other claim to Cassian’s premier year. They gushed about it as a trio of Avoxes worked to tie Cassian up in thick red ropes, binding his arms and legs; the ropes crisscrossed over his skin in biting patterns that left their marks after the session was over, at least until he was brought to the Remake Center and then it was like nothing even happened at all.

He didn’t dare tell his father. Snow had made it clear what he was expecting of Cassian: inconspicuous and unhesitating obedience. He had made that very, very clear.

On the card is a name, a place, a time. Cassian swallows down the feeling that this will hardly be the last.

-

Cassian turns eighteen. District 5’s tributes this year are a fourteen-year-old boy and his fifteen-year-old sister. This year he wanted to mentor, in the same vein that a trapped animal will jump to gnawing off its own leg if it means a chance to escape.

Jeron doesn’t let him. Why would he, when Cassian can’t tell him the truth? Snow has him saying that he’s assisting with Capitol programming for the Games; a kind of internship, he’s to say to his father. Internships aren’t a thing in the districts, not where the highest education level tends to be for getting to journeyman from apprenticeship, and so Jeron takes the news with cautious pride. It isn’t clear if Jeron’s noticed that Cassian is almost never on the District 5 floor when he and Irga take breaks from mentoring.

The brother and sister are a favored duo from the start, in large part because of the astronomical odds of their reaping. But it certainly helps that they’re spunky and resourceful; Jeron and Irga have an easy time securing sponsors. They enthrall the audience and make the 65th Hunger Games a spectacle with their carefully planned partnered kills. Cassian has no doubt that they aren’t getting any fun out of it, unlike what the narrative for them is on the shows covering the Games.

The Games are a never-ending source of entertainment and Capitol citizens have an insatiable obsession with it. Cassian watches the Games progress from many different broadcast displays—occasionally the same one twice or more—because the Games serve as an ever-present backdrop in the bedrooms and parties he’s whored out to. That’s how he learns that the drama and action alone are captivating to the Capitol audience at large, but it’s having the godlike opportunity to change the tides at a single whim that appeals to the powerful elite.

Cassian is there when the fates of the brother and sister from District 5 are decided. Cygnus Vondel, a business magnate with long-standing ties to Panem’s public sector, has been rooting for the male tribute of District 4 hard. Cassian happens to be at the man’s manor, working as part of the entertainment bought for Cygnus and his sycophantic passel of underlings when he hears the man crow loudly.

“See that!” he yells over from the bed where two naked women have been attending to him. “D’you know what the Gamemakers said when I requested this gift be sent? That it’s the single most expensive gift ever given by a sponsor. My dear Finnick’s going to win—absolutely no doubt about it—you all can thank me later at next year’s Bacchanal!”

Cassian watches as the fourteen-year-old boy hefts the trident, testing its weight in his hands. He might have the appearance of a sun-kissed cherub with his golden hair and blue eyes but Finnick Odair has been racking up his own tally of kills, and the gleaming trident grants him a new showy offensive.

He can hardly stand to watch when the boy gets the drop on the District 5 siblings, trapping both with a weighted net and then finishing them off with the trident. He’s almost thankful for the slap to his face, the nameless voice that hisses to him “Get back to work,” so Cassian does.

-

Cassian turns nineteen. The Capitol, officially, is in uproarious celebration.

Nineteen is the age of majority in the Capitol; citizens christen the date with a debutante event called the Decem. There’s whispers and then demands to throw a fete in Cassian’s honor, and then it’s all downhill from there.

Before he turned ninteen Cassian was an off-the-books secret, available only to those Snow allowed enough privilege to know. Now, Snow is going to have Cassian go public with a new persona. It’s been all laid out for him: Jeron Andor’s son, known to be somewhat shy in the public eye, will be usurped by a playboy ready to romp in the Capitol.

When Cassian informs his father he will be attending the Decem event Peridot Starlight is hosting for him, they get into a huge fight. It’s the last major fight they have, with Cassian shouting out his frustrations and anger about his impotence in the face of the Capitol—all guised as a nineteen-year-old not-quite adult yelling about how he’s old enough, he should get to do what he wants, and if he wants to go party in the Capitol during the Games Jeron can’t stop him. He puts every piece he hates of himself into the lie because he’s been forced to lie to his father for the past three years, he has to keep lying to protect their family; what part of that can’t you understand, Papa?

Afterwards he shuts himself in his quarters and hides in the shower until he’s dragged out by his style team to prepare him for the last evening event before the 66th Hunger Games begin: the tribute interviews with Caesar Flickermann. During the interviews he’s too tense to notice the way Jeron looks over at him, his concerned whispers to Irga during the interviews. After the program is over Cassian has a client.

“Where are you going?” Jeron asks.

“Out,” Cassian replies, and perversely he’s thankful that in a way he doesn’t have to lie to his father anymore about what he’s doing. Even if it’s just by swallowing up that lie with an even worse—this time all-consuming—lie.

-

The 66th Hunger Games last for a month; the time until the Closing Ceremony is almost another two weeks. After that Snow tells him he has requests to stay another three weeks, and so Cassian stays for four.

It’s easier this way. He goes from arm to arm, bed to bed, party to party, in an endless blur of raucous laughter and flirty touches and sex, sex, sex. He’s introduced to drugs that will make him last longer, make him unravel easier, prolong the blur in his head that keeps him from thinking about how his father and Irga have already gone home with two more dead tributes and how he’s still here in the Capitol because he hates the idea of having to come home and continuing to lie to everyone and his mother, whom Jeron has undoubtedly told about what Cassian is doing in the Capitol.

When Cassian finally comes home he feels like a completely different person; he can hardly bear looking at his mother in the eye. But his father…

It’s been a week since he’s arrived back from the Capitol, and Cassian has been holed up in his room ever since. He’s absentmindedly stroking the hair growing back on his arms when there’s a knock on his door; it’s his father.

Jeron enters his room at first gingerly, before crossing it in three strides to hug his son. Cassian is startled, but being in his father’s arms like this, the hug feels so familiarly comforting; it has him feeling almost childlike, in stark contrast to the kinds of embraces he’s had to endure. It’s almost a disquieting feeling, how quickly it takes him back to a time from before he was a victor, before he existed more for entertainment than as a child, before he had been forced to grow up too quickly by Capitolites too eager to consume him. His father hugs him and tells him in no uncertain terms that he loves him no matter what and in spite of everything Cassian has ever done. And to remember, mijo, everything I do, I do it to protect you. You and Mama.

The words melt through the numbness in Cassian’s heart to touch a part of him that has grown cold, slowly warming within his father’s arms. He lets himself be held, holds on tight to his father, and wishes he would never have to let go.

-

The next day, he finds Jeron dead in the study. When Cassian goes to her house to bring the news he finds Irga dead in her study, too. The day after that he’s taken back to the Capitol, where he’s sunk back into a nightmare he hasn’t been able to wake back up from.

[libertyybellls]

PITY PARTY !

‟ and he loved her like he loved no one,

the way she’d laugh and hold a smoking gun. „

pairing;finnick x victor!f!reader

summary;finnick odair is a man of many fortunes, all he wish he didn’t posses- red, hot, and irate he lets it fool you.

contains; ANGST, self destructive-finnick&reader, insinuations of infidelity, acts of non-con, arguments, TW descriptive forced prostitution.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it was your victory party, supposed to to be the happiest night since your games.

it was only the most stressful, the most draining. you hair was pulled up almost too tight you gained a headache, dress to tight you could suffocate. champagne flute after champagne flute, finnick had slid away from you- told you he’d be back nearly an hour ago.

you were struggling to stand, your arms were crossed over your indecent frame- chilly, without finnicks presence. without your finnick.

you went up to a familiar face, he was near your age- you think he’s friends with finnick? but how do you know what’s real in the capitol?

“have you seen where finnick went?” your head tilts to the side slightly, and by the way his breathy laugh reached your nostrils and the alcoholic scent burned your senses, you can tell he’s probably drunker than you.

the man has to steady himself from laughing so hard, you were almost concerned at his inebriated he was. “oh you sweet naive victor, he has quite the track record. where would a boy like yours possibly be at a party like this- i mean he’s not much of a boy after all he’s done.”

you’d zoned out halfway into his sentence, was finnick known for getting too tipsy? was there something you didn’t know? was the man you were speaking too so drunk he had lost his mind?

you began to slowly slip away from the man, slipping past people, looking for that soft, gentle, sweet face.

the air was getting too thick, your breath began to quicken, everything was moving in slow. your mind was begging for someone to find help for you, to find finnick.

you find your stylist, he was nice- you think. he’d done you a great fault with the comfortability of your get-up, but otherwise you’d trusted him.

“y/n!” he smiles, ecstatic to see you but a hint of concern in his features and he takes your glass of booze, placing it down on the table. his concern seemed too strong to be just for your alcohol consumption, like there was something else. something you didn’t know, or couldn’t know. “how are you?”

what the fuck?

“where’s finnick.” you’re feet hurt, your heads throbbing, your body is buzzing and you are so sick of not being apart of whatever’s going on.

now your stylist looks pitifully towards you, “oh honey, room five.”

your shoulders slump. was he okay? had he gotten a panick attack? you rush towards to intimate rooms, you weren’t sure if you could count to the number five right now but your mind assumed he’d be in the only closed room.

your worry is sickening, the chill in this mansion is sickening, the confusion of it all is purely- sickening. your hand twists the knob open, ready to see his tears in the dark- but you don’t see his eyes at all.

“yes! i love that finnick. i love you!” she’s under him, her skirt is pushed up- his eyes are screwed shut- his beautiful eyes are screwed shut.

who is this woman? her hair is curly, long, blonde, she seems tall but you can’t see much of her, she seems older. this seems wrong- almost. why is she saying she loves him? who is this woman, lying?

you don’t know how long it takes you to perceive it all, but she looks up and notices you- shrieking in exposé.

you just barely see his head shoot up, before you’ve closed the door. your back flies to the wall opposite of the door, you hear shuffling. you hear her asking him where he’s going.

you can’t breath.

it’s like you’ve taken a shot to the heart, and you’re bleeding out. your body can’t move, you want to run. you don’t want to know, you’re sure of it.

you’re not even sure you want to hear him speak, not for a long time. not until your world stops spinning.

you’ve just started to move, you’ve just started to escape. when the door flies open, your name is being called- no shouted.

but finnicks legs move faster than yours, longer, with flat shoes and hefty strides he’s grabbed your wrist in seconds and he’s spinning you around to face him.

you want to scream, no more, please. but your words are stolen from you, his face looks like he’s just walked in on the same thing you did.

he looks like he wants to speak, to say something. he looks into the corner of the hallway, at the light fixtures, the cameras, and the words are lost on his tongue.

it has felt like ever since finnick had won his games, there was a part of his soul you would never understand, and you thought that you would- and if you told him this, he would probably tell you it’s too early for you to know just yet.

his eyes fall back onto yours, and his eyes are frantic- switching back and forth between each eye. again, you’re missing something, there’s something you’re not picking up, and as much as you want to scream and run away from him- to cry- you stay.

“what the fuck is happening.” you’re trying to sober-up now, your hand finds your hair. and you’re taking steps away from him, your eyes are wide.

he hasn’t moved a muscle, finnick thinks the odds have never been worse for him. does he break you or does he seal your fate with a scarlet letter?

“what the fuck is happening!” you repeat, turning around to face him now, he looks back to the camera, and back to you. and you aren’t in the right state for this. “finnick!” you place your hands on either side of his face, you’re trying to tiptoe around this.

he takes an inhale, trying to find solace in your sweet smell- but all that fills his senses is the alcohol hot and heavy on your tongue. “your drunk, y/n.”

your hands fall from his face, this is cruel, the present is too cruel. and at that moment he’s chosen your fate, you break.

a cry leaves your mouth, your hand going over it, shaking. he feels sick now, his pupils are blown and he’s shaking, he swears his own heart has stopped.

you’re sobbing, and it’s because of him. finnick odair was a selfish monster. finnick odair was a liar, a tyrant. but he was your boy, the same man who spun you around when you wore long skirts just to hear the giggle leave your lips. the same man who didn’t sleep for days when you were reaped- moreso until you came out of that arena. the same man who gave everything he had just so you’d gain sponsors.

and you thought you could be that same girl for him, the same girl who held him when he cried the night before you left for the arena, unable to hold his composure for you any longer.

and now, you’re tears couldn’t stop, and his couldn’t either. you were too stunned to move, and he couldn’t stop muttering words that made no sense.

“lets just go home, please.” he pleads, he would get on his hands and knees. he’d die for you to stop feeling like this, he’d soak it all up just so you would stop.

“how many women?” you remember his own friends words, he has quite the track record- not much of a boy after all he’s done.

and his eyes screw shut once more, a look he often wears when he wants something to be over with, and quick. and you can recognize that from the scene that will forever be etched into your mind.

and he sees you, piece it together in your mind- he sees it all line up for you. he sees the red hot fury behind your lashes, he then sees it turn into an unwary look.

“who’s making you do this?”

he shakes his head, his hand running over his wet face. “stop, now.” there are ears everywhere, even when you’re the loneliest in panem, you are never the only person there.

and his heart races at the thought of how your concern for the good in him will push to your demise, how if you say the words you were never supposed to know, he may never see you again.

and when you go to speak, he slaps a hand over your mouth, he’s rough, he’s not himself. he turns you around- pushing you away from him as he rushes out the emergency exit.

you chase after him, and somehow he’s still faster than you. there’s fresh tears in his cheeks it the cold air, he thinks they’ll freeze. you’re screaming after him, he thinks it’s nothing more than a bad dream.

he wished he wasn’t there, like he was in the backseat as his body moved farther and farther away from you. a second hand perspective on himself and he didn’t know who he was.

and once more, finnick odair was a plague. a wrath awakening in every bridge he burned.

-

masterlist

inbox open! taking reqs!

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

No one asked but you’re getting it anyway.

So upon further consideration, Cinna probably finds out first- Katniss can’t stop herself from dropping as soon as she’s out of the arena, but Madge is still next after that.

It’s shortly after the first games, when Katniss and Madge began to get closer. Madge is playing Piano and Katniss is sitting on the floor listening to Madge play and enjoying the few moments where she can actually be herself. Except she’s beginning to lose focus and she’s just so tired.

Eventually she begins to feel herself regress, she doesn’t know how to stop it and it’s kinda scary. No one is supposed to see her like this. Madge notices the fear on Katniss’s face and assumes she’s having some sort of flashback. “Katniss? It’s alright, you’re safe.” Tears pool in Katniss’s eyes as she glances around the room in confusion. “Katniss?” Madge calls again gently, skidding from her piano stool onto the floor in front of Katniss. Now sitting face to face Madge can see her better, almost instinctively she knows what’s happening.

She’d heard of age regression of course, quite common in the districts where everything is always too much to handle. But she’d never seen anyone regress and never suspected it of Katniss.

But Katniss’s cheeks are damp now and she’s curled her knees to her chest. There’s no time to question if she’s doing the right thing, Madge pulls Katniss against her chest, gently rubbing soft circles into her back.

Katniss’s breathing begins to slow, her thumb making its way into her mouth. Madge isn’t sure if that’s ok or not. “Should I call someone? Your Mom? Peeta?” Katniss shakes her head violently, clutching onto the shoulder of Madge’s blouse.

Madge decides to just hold Katniss until the tears stop and when they do she’s lucky enough to meet the sweetest little girl in the world. Little Katniss lets her tie ribbons in her braids and giggles wildly as she messily plays the piano. Madge is enamoured and whenever they can they spend their time together in their own little world. Eventually Madge sources Katniss with a gentle yellow pacifier, covered in flowers and a soft grey rabbit plushy. Katniss couldn’t love the presents more and almost cries at the prospect of having to leave them hidden under Madge’s bed when she goes home. Eventually (after the victory tour and after Peeta finds out about her regression) Katniss feels comfortable to take them home and ends up carrying her paci in her pocket almost all of the time. As a form of safety but also as a reminder that she will always have someone to turn to.

Madge Undersee would be the first to find out about Katniss’s regression. I have so many thoughts about this I’d love to talk about it :))

[thedunesea]

Very very late, as I slowly come back from this months-long hiatus, I answer to the “tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better” meme I was tagged in by @wreath-wraith, thanks for the tag! Whoever wants to do this is welcome :)

top 3 ships: Anakin Skywalker/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Finnick Odair/Annie Cresta, Sirius Black/Bellatrix Lestrange

last movie: 1917. Left me shocked for how haunting and nerve-wracking it was

lipstick or chapstick: lipstick, although I should use chapstick more often

watching: rewatching Downton Abbey season 3

last song: Anakin’s Dark Deeds by John Williams

reading: Roma senza Papa (Rome without a Pope) by G. Morselli

[banshee-grove]

task 011. the arena

What sort of terrain/climate is your tribute hoping not to find?

A desert. Mako knows, in this new life, what his death in a water-centric arena mean to Four’s pride. Sure, Pearl survived longer, but she’s not here to blame for the loss, is she? Mako is no stranger to blame; and he’s no stranger to proving he’s not worthy of the blame placed on him. It was the actions of Gamemakers, not him, that killed him. He’ll prove himself again. He’s the king of the sea. 

What types of animals is your tribute the most afraid of?

Totally, not at all, jellyfish. But also definitely, and Mako will avoid them like the plague now. The result of their injury is definitely what led to his death, as far as he’s concerned. Trying to save someone already dead is what really killed him, to swim among the jellies. He used to joke about them in Four, but he doesn’t doubt their potency now.

Aside from the threat of the other tributes and ploys by the Gamemakers, what is your tribute most afraid of in the arena?

Mama? Papa? Mackie? Wanna talk? About that absolute abandonment? Mako can take another sea, he could take a desert. He could take anything. He could take a literal concrete jungle. But he couldn’t take his parents. Not after seeing the way they looked at the train as it passed. Every District Four tribute from the last 100+ years and they chose him? Sure, he was perplexed for a moment until he remember he is the epitome of Four. He is the definition of a charmer and a killer, isn’t he? Crack a joke and split that throat. 

Is there anything else that scares your tribute that they may encounter in the arena?

What will this rebellious world make of the upgraded version of Finnick Odair?

[art-from-mars]

Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games by gabby23-2 ❤ liked on Polyvore

The Hunger Games / M a r i a ♥ / 18 Times Finnick Odair Was Almost Too Bae For 'The Hunger Games' / Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson in ‘Catching Fire’ Pics / Tumblr / The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) / We ❤ It / Finnick Odair | Sam Claflin | Capital Portraits | Catching Fire |... / Finnick Odair / sad quotes | Tumblr / Starving for bones / Trident. District 4, bby. / Blurb ebook: Design Seeds by Seed Design Consultancy LLC / Paint drip brush / Reality Escapes Her...# / Sad quotes / no matter what | papa roach / "Die Tribute von Panem – Mockingjay Teil 1": Finnick Odair, Beetee,... / iOS camera image / wasted youthfulness / just stuff

[libertyybellls]

hey, i love you so much. i love your fics, they’re literally like a fine wine and im trying so hard not to read all your fics too fast 😭😭😭

i genuinely adore u this makes my heart so full MWAH. just for you i’ll be writing more today just so you don’t run out don’t worry 😇🙏❤️