#finnick odair the man that you are

[3d-wifey]

You're telling me malnourished Eminem took out Sejanus, Cinna, AND Finnick? TRIPLE HOTTIE HOMICIDE? HE ISNT HOT ENOUGH TO GET AWAY WITH THAT KIND OF ATROCITY! I WOULDNT PISS ON HIM IF HE WAS ON FIRE!

CORIOLANUS SNOW YOU WILL RUE THE DAY

[thesilliest-littlefella]

hello all i love finnick odair 😝

[honeysmoonn]

finnick being protective?

warnings: set in catching fire b4 quarter quell, tiny signs of panic attacks if you squint, mean peacekeeper (nothing new), very short but don’t fear at least one more part will be posted soon!

a/n: thanks for the request anon!! i hope i did this justice, if not lmk and id be happy to rewrite something similar: )

when you were crowned victor of the 67th annual hunger games, the last thing you expected was to be thrown into the quarter quell.

it was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, constantly stuck in a never ending state of fear and anxiety. it was slowly killing you from the inside out.

one thing, one person kept you grounded, though. finnick odair. finnick had been your mentor for your games. he taught you everything you knew about surviving. he taught you how to tie intricate fishing knots, which led you to survive off fishing during your games. every time a fish swam into the fishing net, you smiled up to the sky. and in the other side, finnick smiled back.

though survival wasn’t the only thing finnick taught you.

he taught you how to control your emotions, he taught you how to be strong, and most importantly, how to love.

love was a tough thing in your eyes. you never had any childhood crushes after river, a boy a year older than you, got pulled into the hunger games and died. to you, it felt like the universe was against you, so the idea of love never came easy. though, after finnick was in the picture, he took note of your hesitancy to his flirting and made it his mission to make you feel loved. he ultimately came up with the conclusion that you yourself hadn’t been loved on enough; and no one should live without love.

after you won your games, nightmares and panic attacks came often. but it wasn’t your mother or father you comforted you; it was finnick. he was the one you sat with you on endless nights, cradling you in the protection of his arms.

even now, as the two of you stood on the stage facing your district, you looked to finnick with tears in your eyes. even as ocean formed in your eyes and the crisp air began hard to breathe, finnick remained calm. once the two of you were directed backstage, your first instinct was to go to finnick. luckily, his was too.

“finn,” you sobbed into his shirt. he was quick to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding you close to him, but not too tight; like you were a porcelain doll. it felt like you were, that a single wrong word would shatter you into a million shards of glass. “i don’t wanna go back.” you let out a long and shaky sigh, tightly shutting your eyes as if the world around you would melt away, leaving just you and finnick.

one of his big hands fell on your back, gently stroking the soft material of your light blue dress your mother made especially for reaping days. the other one cradled your head, holding you close to his chest. every so often he would press his soft lips to the top of your head, murmuring softly. “don’t worry, don’t worry about a thing. i’ll protect you. i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words paired with his gentle touch almost calmed your nerves. but the immediate though of him flooded your brain. “oh, oh no finnick,” you pulled back, only slightly. finnick arms were still latched onto yours, grounding you to him. “what about you? what about us?” the quiver in your voice made finnick heart sink into his stomach.

while it wasn’t true, he continued to soothe you by whispering “it’ll be okay” and “we’ll be alright” into your ear while rocking your gently. he knew, when it came down to it, it wouldn’t be him walking out of that arena.

the quiet moment shared between you was cut off by a peacekeeper. the man dressed in white didn’t waste anytime, nor give any warnings before he ripped you out of finnick warm grasp. it was only to get you ready for the train, but finnick jaw ticked as your brow furrowed at the man’s tight grip. somehow, you were back in the area. just a teenager again as another tribute tried to pull you to your certain death.

“hey, hey, hey!” the blond boy rushed forward, taking hold on the peacekeepers white jacket and trying his best to keep you away from the government troop. he could see the fear in your eyes, he knew those eyes. the same eyes that he looked into countless nights when either of you had nightmares. “no need for all this, let her go.” it was so sincere, his tone. it was kind of how he talked to you, calm and gentle. but behind the sweetness there was a tang of venom, a underlying sense of tension hung over finnick head as the peacekeeper didn’t move a muscle.

and older woman (you couldn’t remember her name. diamond? sapphire? something stupid like that), another previous victor (and now your mentor) stepped forward. her hand fell of finnicks shoulder, she meant it in a motherly way but the boy in front of you frowned. “oh finnick, darling, don’t worry. he’s just trying to help.”

“she doesn’t need any help.” this time his words came out as rough and full of intention. and yet the peacekeeper didn’t budge. finnick was fed up. he lurched forward to harshly shove the man shoulder, causing him to stumble back and let go of you. “i got her from here.” he grumbled to the man now on the floor before turning to you. “you okay? anything hurt?” you shook your head and he smiled.

“thank you.” you smiled back at him. his efforts to make you feel better certainly went a long way considering the circumstances. “you didn’t have to do that.” you hated to admit, but you could feel a certain pink blush creeping across your cheeks. finnick must have also noticed, seeing he smirked and placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the peacekeeper and mentor.

“i know,” he replied softly. “but they shouldn’t be doing all that to you. you’ve been through enough.” he gently nudged your shoulder. how he could go from being rough with the capitol people do being so very delicate with you was an odd thing, but beautiful nonetheless. “now cmon, let’s get you to bed.” he smiled with a kiss to your head.

[etherealily]

art // f.odair

Part 1 : Guilt

[2/3] Long.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings : Cuss words, SFW but discretion advised, mature themes, hurt/comfort

Desc. : The trauma card.

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

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SIX WEEKS LATER

Finnick doesn't know when it happened.

His plan had been to basically only shift Snow's focus from his family to you. You, a random stranger he could have zero ties to and could afford to lose if times got tough.

But now? His focus had been shifted from survival to you.

He finds himself mulling about, wallowing in too much sorrow to have been unnoticeable.

He didn't need this. He was already dealing with his own problems.

Thankfully, you didn't seem to have taken the ordeal during the Games too seriously, and now he was back to having only an endless string of Capitol assholes in his bed every other week.

Thankfully, because he had no idea what the hell he'd do if you actually ended up getting attached, or looking to him as some sort of protection, or actually caring or loving him - his heart couldn't take that. His conscience couldn't take that.

Or maybe, he had it all wrong.

Maybe you weren't distancing yourself because you didn't give a shit about him.

Maybe his well-being had nothing to do with this.

Maybe you were distancing yourself because you hated that Faye had died.

Right. Made more sense. What a narcissist he is.

Worst part of all this, as mentioned, was that he was actually starting to give a shit. A thing, he'd been told, he did far too often.

In the week you'd spent at the Capitol with him, he'd grown to like far too much about you.

You cared about Faye? He liked that, a lot.

You got really worried every time he came back from 'filming promos' with bruises? He liked the way you tried helping the only way you could. Which was, apparently, trying to take his mind off of it by regaling him with the mundanities of a day in your life back in Four.

But what he especially liked was that you didn't absolutely lose your shit in laughter when he held your hand in his sleep. He figured you'd pull away. He figured you'd snort and call him a baby.

But you didn't.

You didn't just let him, you allowed him, which, in honesty, only Finnick knew best how different those two were.

And he loved you all the more for it.

Liked. He liked you all the more for it.

"Hey.", he says, looking up from his rope to you.

He loves when he gets to come back to Four, but what he loves most is when he gets to come back to you.

Because you understood. You didn't understand the full extent of what he went through at the Capitol, but you'd spent enough time there to know that it wasn't really a place you could miss.

"Hi, Finnick.", you reply, sitting by him. "You don't get rope burn?"

"I do. But check this out.", he boasts, baring his calloused, red palms to you. "Scars of a warrior. And...", he begins, tugging on the ends of the knot and tightening it, "...knot of a warrior. It's impossible to undo. Try, c'mon."

"I'll take your word for it."

He shrugs, gently tossing the rope down and listening to the soft shift of sand to make space for it. See, he'd always loved this about sand. Always, always made space for anything. No matter how pathetic. How broken. How sinful.

"I was thinking."

You look up from the rope on the sand beside your feet up to his eyes. "Mhm?"

"Maybe... y'know, only if you're interested... I mean, I'll teach you how to take photos.", he says, coolly, his dimpled grin coming in to save the day, his sea-green eyes running over your face desperately, and his sun-touched hair being moved by the wind and placed elegantly in front of those very eyes.

"With your camera?"

"What else?"

"I just... you're really protective over it."

"No, I'm not."

"You slept hugging it."

"Well, yeah, 'cause you were in the Viewing Room, and I-"

He decides it's best to shut up then.

"I'm not protective over my camera. Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Sure."

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

That night sees him leaning back on the couch, welling up with tears of laughter as you struggled to hold the fucking thing properly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", he yells between laughs as he sees you pissed and threatening to smash the camera.

"How hard is it? C'mon, cradle the camera with your left, Y/N. Cradle, like a baby!"

"That's not how I would hold a baby!"

"How would you hold a baby?"

You demonstrate what you'd done when you'd had to babysit, and he bursts out into further hysterics, placing his glass of whiskey down as you pick up yours to take an irritated sip.

"That's very motherly, but it's not going to get you any photos."

"Well, fuck photos then!"

He raises a brow, watching as you come sit by him, placing his chin in your shoulder and looking down with you at the camera in your lap. "You sure? Don't you want to make art?", he asks, a wisp of wonder in his tone.

"Fuck art."

"Fucking can be art."

"Sex is not art, okay?!"

Who the hell were you trying to convince? Finnick 'Capitol Whore' Odair?

"What is it then?"

"I dunno, like, a way to have a baby?"

"Really? So that's the only reason you'd have sex? It's a means to reproduce?"

See in theory, yes, you knew that it wasn't, but you had never thought of any other purpose for it. Because when push came to shove, even if you were in District 4, the possibility of mortality hang over all your heads everyday. Not really top priority to think of fucking.

"Well, yeah! Why else would you? You need to keep population up or the Peacekeepers-"

He nods, closing his eyes as though he finally understood why you said what you said. "Ah. You're thinking of Panem."

"Don't we live here?"

"They don't do population checks."

"But I heard-"

"I know what you heard. Trust me, your service is not required. Other districts are doing a good enough job keeping the remains of humanity booming in number."

You sigh. You're not getting out of this until he's changed your take on sex, that's clear.

"You can't possibly think sex is only for giving birth."

"No way."

"No, seriously. Imagine a canvas, right?"

"Okay."

"Paintbrushes. A curve of paint, a flick of your wrist, a deep stroke across the canvas."

"Mhm."

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper and it makes your toes curl. In a very good way. "Now", he breathes, "Imagine the canvas is skin."

That pretty much did it for you.

"Finnick."

He hums, almost laughing, but not quite. "Just listen. Eyes closed."

You obey, because when Finnick Odair asks you to listen to him verbally fuck you, you do.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Yep. Sex is art.

And you were covered filthy with his words.

But to his credit, yes, they did help you take good pictures.

They also made you wonder why the hell someone who described sex so intimately and preciously would fuck everything with a pulse in the Capitol.

He frowns from the bed, where he sits shirtless with his arm on his knee, posing for you. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so, me."

Fuck.

"That's what's blocking your art, so just get it out. Ask me whatever."

"Okay, how many times a day do you have sex?", you scoff. Should serve him right for asking such a-

"Five."

"Five? FIVE?"

"Well, I mean.... technically zero." He tenses up.

"What? Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"Look, sex and fucking are different! Sex is more intimate! Okay, look, I just think if you don't see the art and the beauty in everything we do, then it's just... life becomes mundane! Painful, even."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay."

He's about to riot. Why weren't you pushing?

"Seriously. I just can't... I can't be without assuming everything happens to eventually become art. It hurts if I don't."

You nod and he breaks. Boundaries are only required when he wants them to be. And right now, he's in the mood to spill his brains to you. He's in the mood to bare his soul to you.

"Uh... you know, uh, we should go back to-"

"NO, Y/N. Listen!", he pleads. He doesn't want your usually welcome distractions - not now - and he doesn't want a palate cleanser. He wants you, he realizes, horrifyingly.

"What?"

"I don't... I've never had sex. But I've fucked. You know what I mean?"

You... kind of seem to, but he's not sure. You look like you're treading ice, walking on eggshells around him, which he doesn't blame you for. He hasn't forgotten his outburst the first night you'd met.

"So... you get it?"

You shake your head, and he's mildly relieved. Good. You didn't get it. He'd spoken without thinking, and he didn't want to make himself filthy in your eyes. Not that he was some angel now, either - he saw the way you still looked at him. Sellout, your gaze scolded him.

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to."

"Why not?"

He inhales and shakes his head, shrugging. "Context? Lack thereof."

"I mean, why would you fuck people you didn't want to be intimate with?"

He's aware that the laugh that follows is only exacerbating your confusion, but you'd genuinely, genuinely, amused him. Because you were basically him before the Capitol. Wide-eyed, not entirely innocent, but definitely not well-versed with the world.

You were him and yet also the polar opposite.

Patting the spot on the bed next to him after shifting a couple of roses away, Finnick watches as you tentatively place the camera down safely first before sitting next to it. Fuck.

"Are you confused?"

You look up at him totally normally, unsuspecting, and trusting, worst of all, and he swears he's about to kill himself.

"What?"

"Are you confused?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know what this button does-"

"No, no, I mean... about what I said."

You pause. Yes. "I mean, slightly, but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Do you want to hear it?"

You frown, and he tsks in urgency, his hands on your shoulders. "Do you want to hear it?"

You nod vehemently and he lets go.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

You're pretty sure it's three am by the time he's asleep. And it's in your arms. Tell twelve year old you that. She'd riot. She'd scream.

Finnick Odair's just bared his soul to you and now, he was utterly vulnerable.

You can't really fall asleep, not after that. Not after knowing that the lanky fourteen year old you'd hero-worshipped on TV when you were eleven had been forced into a room with a Capitol pervert two days later.

You look down. He's twenty-one. He's been doing this shit for seven years. Three years short of a decade. You look back up, at the wall in front of you, and although you can't help it, you get visions. Your mind conjures up its own versions of what happened to him, and you pull him just that much closer.

And that was impossible. Because he's only a couple rules-of-physics away from genuinely melting into you. He no longer seems to feel the need to hold your fingers, and instead, has wrapped himself around your torso and plans to stay there.

Fine by you.

You rest your head back against the headboard. He'd seemed to have struggled, opening up. He'd seemed to not know what to say at all and simultaneously not know where to start first.

You look down again, searching for the ocean in his eyes. Not there. Good, he's still asleep. You don't even feel the regret that you're supposed to feel for judging him, for insinuating that he slept around simply because he could. You can't feel that regret, not when so much anger overtook you.

The gold of his hair spews out from between your fingers, and you find yourself moving your fingers lower, down to the curve of his forehead, the dip of his nose, the plush of his lips, the turn of his jawline.

Beauty is rewarding to everyone else but its owner.

Your thumb rubs over his cheek and you sigh.

It all seems to make sense now, honestly. Why he chose someone from his District to photograph instead of from the Capitol. Why he hasn't been a complete asshole to you.

The white roses in every photo.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Finnick wakes up much earlier than he usually does when he's at the Capitol, but then again, he preferred to relish every moment he could spend back in the District.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your hand.

He'd ended up sleeping in your arms, and you, being utterly, stupidly considerate, hadn't moved an inch.

He gently pries himself away from your arms, attempting to move your head down to the pillow instead of the neck-sprain-inducing position you'd assumed on the headboard. You seem more comfortable on the pillow.

His pillow, his mind notes, though he has no idea why.

The morning air outside beckons him to move closer to the sea. No one, not even Snow himself could stop him from this call.

He quickly freshens up, brushes, washes his face and then he practically soars out to the sea.

The water engulfs him, but it feels more like an embrace. An embrace that, not an hour ago, you'd had him in. He momentarily, terrifyingly considers basking in it for eternity. Letting the water hug him into oblivion. But no. His family's out there. You're out there.

He smooths his hair out, and squints out into the horizon. I mean, he could just go. Only if he managed to get past Panem borders, but if he did manage that? God, would he be set!

He could live out the rest of his days never having to see a rose again.

He could live out the rest of his days painting, photographing, he could maybe even build a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

But that doesn't matter.

Because he could do anything he fucking wanted. For once, his life would be his.

He turns his head shorewards, expecting the sharp disappointment of being ripped away from his fantasies, but instead, he finds you there. You wave and he basically sprints underwater to reach you.

"The water's amazing, come in!"

"I can't, not this early in the morning!", you call back out.

He almost asks why, but he doesn't want to pressure you. Not everyone can comprehend the beauty of an open, vast, unforgiving and unbiased sea. One that, just like sand, doesn't discriminate in its cruelty.

He'd rather unbiased cruelty than biased adoration.

Such comprehension only stems from trauma. Trauma that he would never wish upon you. He'd never wish it upon his worst ene- no. No, no. He wishes trauma upon Snow. 100%.

"What are you doing today?!"

"I've got to buy things for my home and then I've got tutoring!"

He loves the mundanity of it all. The way you almost grumble as you say it. The way it seems like you also want to just spend the rest of the day lounging with him.

After a moment, he asks, "Can I come with?!"

You look so pleasantly surprised by that, like you think it's a joke that you haven't understood, but his expectant look finally tells you it's not.

"Why!?"

He smiles, lifting his hands up in a comically exaggerated shrug that sends water droplets flying to his sides. "'Cause I can!"

It's mildly unsettling to him how normal you're being. He's pretty sure the whiskey and the tension of last night brought to light things he'd much rather muffle into the dark, but you don't seem affected.

In fact, you seem sort of relieved. Like you've finally understood something that had been bothering you for a while.

You probably think you know exactly why he'd suddenly brought you into his life, and that's what brings him back to reality.

He's still using you. The whole thing about his trauma? Wasn't that basically to get suspicion off him? Maybe that's why he did it.

His mood now soured by his own doing, he essentially stomps out of the water and slumps next to you, trying to ignore the familiar discomfort of wet sand on his skin.

Wet sand that you pick off for him. Fuck.

You couldn't be a bitch, could you?

If you'd been a bitch, this would be so much easier.

But no. You apparently had be fucking extraordinary, didn't you?

"You're actually coming to the market?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And then tutoring?"

"I'm older and wiser, Y/N. I could probably tutor better than you. Also, I can actually hold a camera."

"Wow, so that's how it is. Ad hominem remarks."

It's embarrassing, to say the least, that after talking such a big talk about wisdom, he doesn't know what 'ad hominem' means.

"Yeah. That's how it is." Cop-outs are always effective in such situations.

You snort, moving your foot back and forth in an arch. "Finnick?"

He hums. "Have you ever needed Tesserae? Like, before the Games."

He nods. "Yeah. Once. It was a very bad storm, so fishing wasn't really going well."

"It's funny, Faye never needed Tesserae. I mean, her family did, but obviously they didn't want it to go into her name. So she was clean. But she still... y'know."

"I want to say something about fate, but I'm not sure it applies here."

"No, it does."

"How so?"

"I've been looking at it kind of... harshly, but it helps.", you say, turning to the sea in front of you. He briefly wonders whether the orange horizon reflected in your eyes brings forth the same daydreams that he just had, in your mind.

"I just figure... it's probably written in stone that she has to participate in the Games. Maybe it was just a matter of when. Maybe this was a kindness done by God, or the universe or something. So that she had less memories, less to leave behind."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "So you're saying that she died so young because it would have been harder if she had died when she was older, with more memories with the people she loved?"

"It sounds terrible, but it was something my elementary teacher told us, when we were first taught about the Games."

He nods, trying to plead with the horizon to give him something to say.

"That was a shitty way to start the morning. Sorry.", you mutter, and he aggressively shakes his head.

"Shit's on your mind, but it doesn't have to stay there, okay?"

You nod. "How is it we're not hungover?"

He raises a brow. "Sea air. Does wonders."

"I live way too far inland, then. Should just stay in the Victor's Village forever."

"Yeah, you should. You got kids in your family?"

"Yeah, my niece and nephew, why?"

"Bring 'em all here, they can actually have a childhood with the sea thirty paces away. I'll teach them stuff. Rope tying, swimming, shit like that."

You smile softly, and it makes the sea air sweeter for him.

The words are left unsaid on both your tongues. They can have a childhood until eleven.

"I'm sure they'd love it if you could teach them."

He tries not to notice the cameras in the distance behind you, but it's really fucking hard.

"We should go."

"Why? It's nice, and I've got...", you reply, looking down at your watch, "...like, a half hour left before I need to go."

"No, let's go."

You figure that, since this wasn't a common occurrence, there was a reason for the roughness with which he led you back inside.

"You gonna tell me what that was about?", you ask as he picks out an apple from one of the adoring fruit bowls someone has sent him.

You've become bolder, grown more of a spine, but asking him this terrifies you, for some reason. Probably because you know he'll tell you the truth.

"There were cameras."

"Aren't you used to it?"

He tosses the apple up in the air and catches it before he washes it in the sink, turning to you as he takes a bite. "But are you?"

You shake your head, catching the one he washes and then throws to you the next moment.

"Exactly."

Nodding, you take a bite.

"What? What else do you have on your mind?" He reads your mind with an unsettling talent.

"What are they saying? Y'know, about us?"

"Just... you know, what you already know. That we're in love. And shit."

"You didn't want the cameras to capture the lack of love, then?"

Whoa, you were hitting hard. "Uh, no, I just thought you'd want some privacy."

"You already got me to come to the Capitol and take fake pictures to pacify Snow."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what is private about my life anymore? I didn't even know I cared so much about my privacy until it went away."

He's been there, done that.

"You're saying you want cameras on you?"

"I'm saying that from now on, they're going to be on me either way."

His chewing slows, and he nods. "Right. Sorry."

"You don't have to - you know that isn't why I said that. Don't apologise."

Alright, now he's more sure than ever that you have some skewed idea of what's going on, one that paints him as someone who accidentally got you into this mess.

Licking his lips, he moves over to place what he wants you to construe as a loving arm around the shoulder. But it's actually a guilty one. A terrified one. A fuck-if-this-goes-south-I-will-lose-her one.

He squeezes twice. "I've got you."

It's hard to say that without scoffing. He's barely got himself.

---

Finnick realizes lots of things by the end of the day.

One, if you want to go somewhere where no one cares who you are and be shoved around, it's the marketplace.

Two, you were wiser than him.

Three, your trust in him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, was blind. Blind, and infuriatingly so.

Which is why when he finally dropped you home, you said something that, if you didn't have blind trust in him, would have immediately sent of warning bells in your head that he was an absolute asshole who was using you.

"Peacekeepers seem to have multiplied around here."

And his instinctual reply should have been enough to make you realize his entire plan and scorn him to hell.

"Yeah, they used to circle around mine more."

Yep. His plan had worked. Snow had begun to send him silent warnings that now, if he didn't do as he said, the "love of his life" would be killed.

And he didn't know if it was relief or sadism, but momentarily, he found a slight bit of joy that his family wasn't the one under more immediate threat than you.

God, he was such a bad fucking person.

"Maybe they're there to protect me.", you scoff, and he laughs, following you into your house and locking the fucking door.

"Yes, President Snow is known for his extraordinary empathy."

"Is he going to threaten to kill me if you don't... y'know?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. And you'll be safe, trust me."

"I don't want to if you aren't. I can't live with that knowledge.", you say, pursing your lips as you place the items on the kitchen counter.

He looks around and his environment aligns with what he expected a house with two kids to look like. "Where's everyone?"

"There's some school thing. Something to honor Faye and Kai, so my family's not here."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't know if I can.", you respond, shrugging.

He sighs, sitting on the chair while you perch up on the counter, his forearm grazing the side of your knee. "She was lovely."

You nod. "She'd have loved this."

"Loved what?"

"Busy days. She was a tiny bit weird like that. She liked having something to do, and had a whole itinerary planned."

He chuckles incredulously. "Yeah, right. She was thirteen."

"No, she came by every weekend, knocking on my door and telling me the time slots for tutoring. I'm not kidding."

"Oh my god.", he remarks, shaking his head.

"She was so neurotic, in the best way. Said she loved being able to crash into bed after being productive the whole day."

He grins. "She sounds amazing. I wish I got more time with her."

You shake your head. "Wouldn't ever be enough."

He stands, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry."

The only two words he has the right to say to you, and the two you keep rejecting, cluelessly.

"What?"

"I should've done better."

"You did the best you could. Sometimes, even District 1 Careers die."

It kills him that you think he's talking about the Games.

You look at each other for a while, and he frowns softly before his eyes move to your mouth. His lips follow soon after.

He kisses you, and then pulls away, making sure you're not absolutely repulsed, and you don't seem to be, and so he keeps going, his hands on the back of your neck, in your hair.

You're kissing back. "That's all that matters", he thinks, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

No repulsion.

Not yet, anyway. Because he'd noticed something that you hadn't, right outside, pointing straight at you.

Cameras.

God, he was such a bad. fucking. person.

[lilmaymayy]

im sorry but theres nothin i hate more than xocs in an xreader hashtag😔😔

ITS FINE IF THERES OCS IN THE FIC BUT THEY BETTER NOT END UP W MY MAN

[thefuseoftemptation]

finnick odair on being close to you. It's a must. he likes to be with you, likes the closeness. Whether it's the physicality of it or just him knowing you. His hands or arms are never not on you. If your hand isn’t in his, he’ll be taking it into his. His arm too, always over your shoulder.

He has to have some sort of contact. Even if it’s just you standing next to him. Your back is to him? Then he’s making his way to you so your back is to his chest as he looks over your shoulder to see what you’ve got going on. If you guys are sitting somewhere and you don’t sit by him? He’s pulling your chair over to where he’s at or switching seats. It’s not like it was your intention to do that, you just sat where you saw was available. Or if you’re on the couch, sitting across from him with your legs stretched out, he’s pulling you by them. Oh no. Now you’ve got to sit next to him—

finnick odair likes being close to you. In every sense of the word.

[lizzysbrain]

Do you ever see someone that’s just so BEAUTIFUL AND FUCKING PERFECT?!?!

ITS SO BAD MY EYES ARE LITERALLY TEARING UP HELP AGH I JUST NEED HIM

i am biting at the bars of my enclosure, Spider-Man climbing around the top of it. Swinging like sias chandlier. Actually forget the enclosure I threw it it’s gone I threw it with my bare hands.

[thedelicatearcher]

finnick odair who loves doting on his partner, but he also loves being doted on back. finnick, under his cocky attitude and arrogant smile, is a soft sensitive man who craves being loved, to know and be known, starving for intimacy. that is why you had made your own personal mission to make finnick feel as the most loved man in all panem. you spend days laying on your bed doing nothing, just holding one another while you play with his bronze curly hair, occasionally giving him a kiss on his forehead, receiving a dozed smile from the man you love. there are dozens of love notes scattered around the house to surprise him when he least expects it, a "you are the light of my life" note is found next to the light switch, a "you are the embodiment of home for me" note is found on the door, and a "the clock of my life started when i met you" note is found next to his alarm clock. a fresh baked chocolate cake is ready for him at home when you know he had a hard day. you shower together at least once a week, not necessarily a sexual thing, he just loves to hold you intimately and have his hair washed by you. and even though you dislike fishing, there is not a single time where you hadn't offered to go with him, putting on your matching fishing hats and bringing his favorite snacks.

with you, finnick odair finally feels like he deserves the love and affection he has spent all these years craving.

[thebisexualwreckoning]

i love how the moment they make president snow a young hot guy they forget the literal war crimes he's committed and how many people died due to him? like he's not even morally grey like the bookstagram girlies claim? he's literally straight up evil and killing children just to maintain his own power. GIving victors and the rest of the people of panem an illusion of glory and fame while secretly using them as pawns on his personal chessboard. Like I love myself a character with skewed morals but this *gestures around myself vaguely* is not it

[ongreenergrasses]

I’m so curious on your reasons for reading Finnick as non white. Love the take, just curious what you pulled out of the text that cued you into it!

a couple things! so i think Ms. Suzanne Collins slides in pretty organic descriptions of how characters look. it’s a staple of YA, she has to and that’s fine, and i do think by and large she avoids a lot of the traps people can fall into when physically describing characters, however! she doesn’t describe the skin tones of all her characters, and the ones she does across four books are the not white ones. Finnick’s skin tone gets described, so that right away made me go hm. he’s not white. because I think she sees whiteness as default and something she doesn’t need to describe for the reader. and yes, sure, he could just be really tan, but!

i also think about the way he’s described vs the way Cashmere and Gloss are. Cashmere and Gloss are classically beautiful. Finnick is extraordinarily beautiful. and the fact that she did that in particular immediately makes me think okay, classically beautiful is beautiful in accordance with mainstream (white) beauty standards. if Finnick is extraordinarily beautiful, he’s falling outside of those standards somehow.

he’s also being trafficked really heavily. this is something I do want to treat delicately but we know that tributes from One play up their beauty, and i have to imagine the volunteers are getting selected for that district in part because of that beauty. if Finnick’s (by his own admission!) more popular in the Capitol than the victors from One are, i think that’s because in the Capitol’s eyes, he’s got something they do not, and it’s most likely because they’re really heavily fetishizing him, which yes, could happen to a white dude, but happens a lot to men of color. (there’s a lot of factors that could play into why he’s being trafficked but again. delicate. also not the point i’m currently making)

all that to say. she really stays away from anything beyond describing physical appearance, which i think is smart because thg is a future dystopia and our ideas of race and ethnicity probably wouldn’t apply to any of the characters, but based on the way Finnick is physically described and the way the Capitol reacts so strongly to him, i think he’s not white and as disgusting as it is they see him as exotic. and that is a large part of why he’s trafficked so heavily.

[murdrdocs]

i think in another universe you and finnick could be that couple.

the couple who met a little young, but fell head over heels so quickly that everyone around you questioned it. it wasn't a simple and easy relationship at first, there were ups and downs, some doubts, maybe a break or two. but you two found each other in a place that worked perfectly for who you both were.

you're that couple that had the most beautiful wedding. the couple who understands each other to the point where he gave you the ring of your dreams, and proposed in a way that young you would fantasize about at sleepovers while you kicked your feet and giggled at the possibility.

you're that couple that has a gorgeous home. the perfect size for the two of you, a few extra rooms that you use as guest beds for the time being. you have a home fit for hosting; spacious kitchen, entertainment space in the backyard, a basement that you're both in the process of converting to move hangout space.

during your many dinner parties, people ask if you're going to have kids, you look at each other, smile, shrug, take a sip from your champagne because it's up to you.

there's no rush in your relationship with finnick. it's just you two, situated exactly where you're meant to be in this world, and you're not trying to rush the process for anything.

[lady-corrine]

Finnick Odair would have been an absolute girl dad, send tweet 💜

[ink-ray]

I’ve been reading The Feral One by @avoxrising and I’m literally experiencing withdrawal after that last chapter, I jus stared at my phone for about ten minutes like

[honeysmoonn]

thinking about a life after the games with finnick…

sand covered limbs and salt water kisses. delicate fingers weaving a fishtail braid into salt kissed hair. even more delicate fingers tracing the tanned shapes on your skin; the result of letting seashells rest in your body for too long beneath the suns warmth. sleeping in to have the sun kiss your cheeks as a wake up and staying up late to have the stars and moon gently lull you to sleep. waves brushed your hair instead of the hairbrush on your dresser, the ocean breeze blowing through the salt kissed hair.

finnick liked to cook you meals rather than you doing it yourself, you begged to help but he settled on letting you sit on the counter and talk to him while he cooked.

finnick went out fishing almost everyday; and even though you hated being home alone you could bear letting your fiancé go out and teach some of the less experienced people in the district to fish the way he had once been taught. while finnick was busy, so were you. busy out on the town teaching young kids the art of living; how to draw flowers into the sidewalks with chalk, how to braid another girls hair, and of course, living each other. there was no need for a real job, finnick had the money aspect of your life covered with his fishing business, and after the rebellion the world seemed to be much quieter.

on days off, you and finnick giggled like children as you walked through the streets of town waving to anyone and everyone. mags once stopped you two and asked finnick when he was going to propose. not long after the two of you were on the beach and he had a ring in his pocket. once again mags was asking questions about your future. when are you having kids, she offered. finnick smiled and said whenever you were ready. later that night he couldn’t help but mumble mags’ words into your lips.

ugh i could go on a on abt this for HOURS…(working on a blurb rn🤗)

[yelenadelova]

Rip Finnick Odair you would have loved fidget toys.

[avirginslament]

Did anyone ever notice in Catching Fire that when Effie draws the chit for the male tributes, she kind of stammers as if her breath was taken away as she spoke "Haymitch Abernathy" and all i could feel was Effies heart shattering into a million pieces to see the man she's been with for so many years to go to the games once again? I feel like this was a foreshadowing to their love from Mockingjay part 2