#finnick odair x gn!reader

[bruisedboys]

finnick odair who refuses to wear sunscreen (he claims he’s “used to the sun”) but then gets burnt and whines like a baby and begs you to put aloe vera on him!!! you pretend to be reluctant about it but actually you’re happy for the excuse to rub your hands all over his toned back and shoulders <3 and the pretty sounds he makes when you do it are also a perk <33

[whillywisp]

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing���

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

[luxbub]

100% finnick would massage your feet and your shoulders and he’s GOOD at it

I cant stop thinking about that side of finnick, i mean he is the king of massages!!

And especially after a stressful day and you come home as if like the whole world is weighing on your shoulders, finnick would massage you SO GOOD. He just can’t help it, with your lips in a little frown and slumped shoulders, he just has to do something about it.

So he sits you both down on the couch, gently pulls your legs into his lap and starts kneading the skin on your feet. He slowly trails his hands higher and higher up to your calf and something about his hands working at the tension in your legs makes you whimper at his touch.

Maybe some time after, you would turn to lay on your stomach and finnick’s thighs would go on either side of your hips, as his hands start trailing across the taunt muscles of your back, the tension melting away.

[allisluv]

beach days with finnick are spent lying in the hot sand with a book in your lap and sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose until your boyfriend, ever the menace, decides you're going into the water with him, whether you like it or not. he hoists you into his arms, and when you squeal that he's getting you wet, he shakes his hair out like a dog, soaking you with droplets of water. "finnick!" you yelp, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life when he wades into the sea. it comes up to his ankles and he pretends to lose his grip on you, laughing like a god damn mad-man as you cling to him like a koala. "you're an asshole!" you hiss through gritted teeth. "i know," finnick smirks. "but thats why you love me."

[writesick-lover]

Just One Date

Finnick x reader!

A/N: I honestly REALLY like this prompt and felt like it could work for Finnick! It's a bit too sudden, but I think that's kind of the charm of this whole idea, sudden, unexcpected but exciting ;) I might make a part two cause I think I built too good of a background for reader (at least in my mind) so please let me know how you like it!

Warning: a bit of swearing and mention of killing if you squint

Prompt: “I need just one date.”

“You think you can woo me with just one date?”

“Absolutely.”

➷ ➷ ➷ ➷

It has been years since the perfectly arranged hell for Finnick Odair had started. But who would have thought about it? That the Capitol's sweetheart, the youngest victor who stole thousands of hearts across the whole country, now suffered in the wealthiest part of Panem?  Unimaginable. To be drowned in gold and washed in blessings, to wake up every day and have his plate filled with food and enough water to drink and bathe in, even for the whole day if he wanted but hate every single minute of it.

And though it was hard to grasp, that was Finnick Odair's case. Because Finnick dreaded every upcoming moment of his life since he was brought from his games as the victor, the survivor. The bloodthirsty drive to live, once warming his heart that followed him through each step in the arena, has now subsided, trapped by an iron fist of fear and desperation.

He could vaguely remember the first time those feelings had settled in, spreading through his veins like poison as he left his firts customer's bedroom, making him loathe every breath taken in and out by his body ever since. That's when he knew he would have thrown everything beautiful about his victorious survival just so he could live again. But that just wasn't the case for Finnick Odair, it simply wasn't his fate. And while his life was partially in his hands, he mostly felt like the blood of whatever part of himself he had killed was preventing him from moving on, from fighting. Maybe he grew tired of it. Maybe he thought he had enough of fighting for his whole lifetime.

He watched from afar, how fond the Capitol had become of District 12's star-crossed lovers, Katniss and Peeta. And for the first time ever since he was 16, something had awakened in him, a hope, that maybe this could be the end of his show. That maybe the citizens of Capitol had found someone else to watch and obsess about and he could finally be free. But that thing, that hope, was killed before it could even be aflame.

As he turned around from the glamorous couple, his eyes fell on the darkened blue ones, hidden like snakes in the snow made of white hair. The disgust, the abomination, the darkness screaming nothing but death brought Finnick to the harsh reality, once his gaze was met with Snow's. He was never getting out of this train. Not alive.

Until the spark inside him ignited again.

It was the meeting of the previous victors, one to which the new love-struck victors were not invited, yet they still happened to be the centre of its talks. Thankfully, the space was filled with only the comfort of people Finnick had known for a while and who had known him. There was a certain silent alliance the victors had built over the years. As he passed the familiar faces, sending polite smiles here and there, he caught a face that was very unfamiliar to him. You were new there, you have won only two years prior to Katniss and Peeta, the 72nd hunger games, which happened to be the opposite of the 74th year's sensation.

Finnick could remember meeting you in the Capitol, you're terrified tearfilled eyes meeting his, billions of questions behind them making his stomach turn there and then. But now you seemed just stiff, your guard high up. He would even go to the lenghts of saying you had an intimidating aura around you.

You could feel his stare burning your skin, so you turned around to face him, your mouth shaping into a genuine smile as soon as you saw him, your eyes sparkling in recognition. That's what he was talking about. All that pressuring shell fell right apart when you smiled or opened your mouth, earning you tons of sponsors back in your games. When you sent him your smile through your tears back then, Finnick could feel the butterflies rummaging through his guts. "Who are you staring at, Finnick Odair," Johanna's low voice beisde his ear made Finnick jump. "Johanna," he groaned, rolling his eyes as his right hand fell on his heart.

"The deceitful seemed to have caught you're eye, hm?" That was your nickname. The deceitful victor. Finnick remembered the talks once your games were over. You were called two-faced, a liar, and while some of the Capitol's people found this feature of yours absolutely unacceptable, others found it intruiging. After all it was thanks to your deceit, that you had won.

"They just seem rather... lost," he hummed, shrugging it off and turning to face Johanna fully. "Didn't expect you to come here,"

"Neither did I myself," she snapped back, looking behind her. "Blight dragged me here," Her piercing eyes slowly turned back, burning a hole in Finnick's face, the sole proof of the little affection the woman had towards him. "Charming. Make sure to say hi from me," Finnick grinned as Johanna scoffed, placing her hand on her hip and rolling her eyes dramatically. He could only nod, leaving the victor from the 7th District be as he made his way through the party again.

"They just did it right," one of the men in the group behind Finnick stated loudly, alcohol audible on his tongue by the volume of his voice. "Getting Capitol into their story, creating a perfect ballad except both of them survived to live the happily ever after," Finnick stopped in his tracks, the glass full of liquid spilling a bit on the grass under him, as he halted too quickly, not entirely sober either. He groaned as some of the drink got on his shoes but it didn't stop him from listening closely. "Do you get it? They are not harrassed by Snow or anyone, except the Capitol's undying obssession. They just continued to live in District 12, leaving as if nothing happened, as if they haven't just dismissed the whole history of the hunger games," a woman shrieked. Finnick smirked. Imagine leaving like nothing happened. That would be nice.

"That would be nice," another boy voiced the same thought. "To leave and spend your life with someone like that. They survive the games with you so you have someone to lean on, support, love, Capitol doesn't bother you that much, just to see what you already do naturally, it's-"

Freedom, was the word on Finnick's tongue. He didn't hear the rest of the sentence as it was drowned out by the sound of Finnick's blood flowing, his heart beating out of his chest as his eyes widened. Freedom, support, protection- no more abuse, no more hell, just peace. Finally, a bit of peace for Finnick Odair. His head spinned, his stomach turning from the sudden imagination, a certain heat spreading through his body, coming from his chest. The flame burned, burned in his eyes as he looked around, his eyes falling on you.

You were perfect. Capitol didn't have an exact opinion on you which was hurting your reputation as one of the victors. You could use some of those blessings Finnick was showered with daily. And he could use you. As his freedom.

His fast loud steps made you turn just before he stopped inches away from you, his feet rocking him back and forth for a while until he stabilised himself. You smirked as you thought about whether he was drunk, wanting to talk with you, but you were sure he had to be when his words hit your ears.

"Come on a date with me,"

You couldn't help but let out a loud snort, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth, the noise still audible. "What the fuck," your eyes landed back on his, the dark browns burning like two coals. "You're serious?" you stopped laughing, your eyes widening at him. "Yes," he nodded, falling silent again, waiting for your answer. "Why?" was another question that slipped out of your mind. You seemed to have caught him off guard, his right leg now tapping nervously. It was a good question. He didn't know himself, why, he just knew he was drunk enough to come up with such idea and sober enough to make it work. But he didn't think of you're answer taking so long. And you partially enjoyed it, finally seeing that confident Finnick Odair uneasy, his state suddenly depending on your answer. It made you wonder what was in it for him.

"Why not?" he finally spoke, voice raspy.

"Why yes?" you retorted back, making him roll his eyes. "We barely know each other, and correct me if I'm wrong, but this is actually about fifth time in our lives we even acknowledged each other,"

"So? Please, Y/n. I need just one date," he groaned, taking a step closer, you refusing to back away. It was always games, everywhere you went, the play never stopped.

"You think you can woo me with just one date?" you lifted your eyebrow in disbelief.

"Absolutely."

➷ ➷ ➷

>>part 2

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

[inatimate-icarus]

listening to “bones” by the rills the whole time bro

[toothfa-1-ry]

GOODNIGHT SUNSHINE -finnick odair

It's the coldest it has ever been in the 13th district but Finnick's got you right?

GENRE: fluff

PAIRING: Finnick Odair x gn reader

WARNING: mentions of wound and scars

A/N: this fic is especially dedicated for those who were victims of my previous Finnick fic

TAGLIST: @honethatty12

"Finnick?" You ask at the dead of night, the both of you lying down next to eachother all cramped up in the tiny bed which was given to the both of you

"yes sweetheart?" Finnick's breath tickles your ears as he whispers, slightly bending his neck to where you were lying down in his chest

You could hear his heartbeat clearly a d he could feel you breathing, a sign that the both of you were alive.

Your fingers could feel the bandage wrapped around his arms and Finnick could see the scars on your face, a sign that the both of you were a little scarred, but still a sign that the both of you were alive.

The 13th district is cold. A different kind of cold the both of you hd ever experienced. Finnick had mainly experienced the cold during the night on the beach, the cold air blowing towards him from the sea.

Finnick also had experienced many different kind of warmths, the bad and the good

The kind of warmth you can only get back at the 4th district, the warm sand beneath is feet and the sunlight hitting the water.

The warmth from the capitol in all its luxury and velvety blankets and linen bedsheets which left him cold and empty instead

And the kind of warmth with you. A different kind of warmth, like now,

How the both of you were in a cold small quiet room with a thin blanket too small to cover 2 people and yet Finnick felt the most comfortable and warm he ever was,all because he had you in his arms

Even though there was a entire uprising going on, even though there was wounds and scars all over his back, even the nightmares he endures everynight seemed to cease to exist when he was with you

"Finnick" you repeat again

"yes sweetheart?" He responds nonchalantly, his arms pulling you in closer towards him

"aren't you feeling cold?" You ask, the thin blanket was hardly even able to cover you, let alone Finnick "we can't share it, it's far too small. We can take turns using it"

"it's alright sweetheart" Finnick mumbles and his face nuzzles into you neck "m'not cold"

You scoff "it's freezing, here" you try spreading the blanket across Finnick's body but Finnick just doesn't accept it

"you use it love, don't worry about me, I've got my sun right next to me. I'm warm enough" he lazily smiles "c'mon these scars aren't going to heal themselves, let's give into the night"

"scars don't heal Finnick, wounds do, not scars" you roll your eyes as you reply but your arms stretch over Finnick's neck

"I suppose so, but you can always kiss them better hm?" He hums

"I suppose I can always kiss them better" you smile as you press a kiss into his face

"night Finnick"

"goodnight sunshine"

[phefics]

come take a dive

ship: finnick odair x reader summary: reader rides finnick's face. prompted by anon!! includes: afab!reader, gn!reader, slight insecure!reader (she's nervous to sit on his face bc she's worried to hurt him but her weight/body type isn't mentioned), face sitting, f!receiving oral, vague mentions of finnick’s canon sexual trauma asked to be tagged: @lufvg word count: 0.9k

"I can hold my breath for a pretty long time," Finnick said, smirking. "So you don't have to worry about me, baby.”

You laughed at his words, but there was a nervous shake to the sound. It had been his idea, for you to try sitting on his face, and he was insistent that you could actually sit.

As in, put all your weight down on his face and focus on nothing but your own pleasure, which was an incredibly generous and appealing offer, but…a little scary, too. Surely even Finnick’s well-trained swimmer’s lungs couldn’t withstand being smothered by your thighs.

He had already survived so much, it would be incredibly pathetic of him to die like that. When you told him as much, he grinned and said, “At least I’d die doing what I loved.”

You had rolled your eyes, but it had managed to ease your nerves. And so, you finally agreed to give it a shot, much to his delight.

Finnick’s past sexual encounters had not been about love or intimacy. When you met him, sex was something that he did because he had to, because it kept him safe, and well, he learned some valuable Capitol secrets along the way.

But now he was free of that life, and sex had become something entirely new and exciting for him. He especially enjoyed making you cum, as if your pleasure was something sacred to him.

Perhaps it was. To know that he had made you feel good, not because he was required to, but because he wanted to. Because he loved you, and he loved to make you feel good.

You hovered over him on the bed, bare from the waist down, only wearing one of his t-shirts. You straddled his shoulders, looking down at his face with a nervous grin.

“You sure about this?” you asked.

“Absolutely. Are you?” he replied, large hands rubbing soothing circles on your thighs, sneaking grabs at your ass.

“I think so. Do you promise you’ll tap out if you need?”

You had previously agreed that if Finnick ever felt triggered during sex, he would tap your nearest body part three times, quickly. The same applied to this situation, whether it was something that upset him or merely the fact that it could be difficult to breathe properly with his face being smothered by your pussy.

“I promise,” he assured you. “Now, c’mon. I wanna taste you.”

It was hard to resist when he spoke like that, and so you took a deep breath before adjusting your position so that your already wet pussy was right above Finnick’s pink, perfect mouth.

Slowly, you lowered your hips, sinking onto his face and gasping as his tongue immediately went to work, lapping at your clit desperately.

You moaned softly, grabbing the headboard to keep yourself steady. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but you understood the appeal.

Finnick whined against you, the action tangible against your cunt, a little vibration that made you pull up in surprise, just a tiny bit, but he wasn’t having that. His hands grabbed your hips and pushed you back down onto his face, his tongue fucking into your hole.

It felt incredible, and you whimpered at the mixture of sensations: His strong grip, holding you in place, fingertips digging into your flesh. His tongue, moving inside of you. And, most interestingly, his nose, which was nudging against your clit, keeping the nerves stimulated while his mouth was otherwise occupied.

You weren’t even sure he was doing it on purpose. Perhaps it was just a lovely coincidence, but the friction made your hips move of their own accord, rutting on his face desperately.

All the moving, combined with your wetness, it caused Finnick’s face to practically slide along your slit, somehow leading to the tip of his nose touching your hole, making you jump in surprise. It didn’t feel bad, but it was definitely a strange feeling. Not bad, though.

You felt Finnick chuckle beneath you, mumbling something that sounded like ‘sorry’ as he fumbled to reposition you.

“Don’t be,” you breathed.

He returned his mouth to your clit then, finally deciding it was time to make you cum, and it didn’t take him long to bring you there. Your legs shook as your orgasm built, and Finnick held you tightly in place until you were crying out.

You carefully got off of him before laying beside him on your back, your body still shaky and pumped with adrenaline. Your legs ached from holding that position and your thighs were soaked.

Finnick rolled onto his side, smirking at you. His face was damp, shiny with your wetness. “See?” he said.

You rolled your eyes, giggling. “Okay, yes. It was worth it.”

“Are you gonna thank me?”

“For convincing me or for making me cum?”

“Both.”

You smirked, eyeing Finnick’s hard cock in his pants. “I know a way to show you just how grateful I am.”

He grinned.

[loveliestlovelygirl]

one of his girls

finnick odair x gn!reader

synopsis: stuck in a long elevator ride with finnick odair himself, he promises to save you a dance at the capitol party. with him, you become the center of attention instantly. the guests watch in envy, most of them wishing they were you. but finnick has his own motives for his pursuit of you.

w.c: 2.2K+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, implied sex trafficking, alcohol, capitol party, social hierarchy, sexual content, lack of aftercare

Finnick’s suit jacket is navy but darker. Something like a midnight blue. The fabric is shiny, so shiny that you can faintly see your reflection on his bicep.

“Pretty.”

Startled that he would speak to you or even notice that you were standing beside him. You are a nobody compared to him. “T-thank you,” you stutter. His voice is enticing in a way. Not deep. But unapologetically masculine and yet soft at the same time. It haunts you. Any reply you could fathom would be but nonsense.

He chuckles. His smile is big. “Oh, I meant my suit.”

Suddenly, the elevator you are riding in together seemed even smaller. You can’t escape your embarrassment. It suffocates you entirely. Completely mortified by your assumption, you hang your head to hide your building tears. Why do I have to be such an idiot!

The hundreds of people at the party above would kill to be in this elevator with him. And you choose to act a fool.

When Finnick turns your way, you glance up just enough to really view his outfit. His shirt is made from a sheer black fabric, and his jacket is left open. You can see every ripple along his abdomen. You curse yourself for noticing.

“You are too though.” He leans down a bit to meet your eyes. “I just like this suit, don’t you?”

“Yes, it… becomes you.”

Finnick gives you a satisfied smirk. “Ah, my first compliment of the night.”

You cover your mouth to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be drowning in them by the end.”

“If only that weren’t true,” he notes, leaning against the back wall. “It’s hard being loved by all.”

You laugh again. While everyone goes on and on about his incomparable beauty, they’ve never mentioned his humorous side. But you wonder if maybe there is some truth to his statement. Maybe he doesn’t like being in the limelight so often. He’s always a main attraction at Capitol parties. Everyone tries to go home with him.

You admire Finnick’s makeup. The coal liner that brings out his green eyes. And the gold flecks on his pink cheeks, matching his golden hair. “You really do look pretty, Finnick,” you say to him.

He nods. “I have to. The scandal I would cause if I were underdressed. You know me, always the attention whore.” He says that with a hint of disgust that maybe he didn’t intend for your ears.

The elevator comes to a stop before you have a chance to ask what he meant by that. Finnick waves to you.

“I’ll save you a dance, darling.”

Everyone fiercely fights for Finnick’s attention through the batting of eyelashes, assaulting him with compliments, and insincere kisses to his golden cheeks. You watch him accept their adoration with gracious elegance that only he has. When they flirt with him, he flirts back flawlessly, without skipping a beat. From this outside view it seems to come so naturally to him. It looks like he thrives when he’s adored. Most people wouldn’t know how to handle the attention. They would suffocate from the weight of it all. But not Finnick Odair. You figure he’s seen so much in his life that nothing phases him. Nothing at all.

While he’s in the center of the room, you draw near to the sidelines. You nibble at the food and sip white wine. Finnick has been too busy the entire night entertaining guests that he has no time for enjoying a meal. You hope he ate before.

From the dessert bar, you watch him dancing with a loudly dressed man with green hair. The way their bodies move together is fluid. Finnick can dance. In fact, he’s very skilled with the way he controls his partner all in the rhythm of the music. Perhaps your envy causes you to avert your gaze, and you walk around to the opposite side of the bar so that you no longer have to watch. You know that your encounter in the elevator meant nothing to Finnick. His calling you pretty means nothing. He flirts with everyone he can.

You lose yourself to chocolate and your self-effacing thoughts. And you don’t notice when he sneaks up behind you. When Finnick’s hand touches your shoulder, you nearly jump.

“Hello, Finnick,” you mutter, not turning to look at his face.

“I noticed you were watching me.”

You shrug. “Everyone was. He seems… fun.”

“I don’t care about everyone.” He steps around you and wedges himself between you and the bar. “Are you…” he leans in, staring at you suspiciously, “jealous?”

“Of him?” you balk at his presumptuousness. “You—”

“He’s obsessed with me,” Finnick scoffs. “And I hate him. But…” his lips ghost your ear, “he’s close to our beloved president.” He steps away from you after he says that. “But that’s just between you and me.”

A little stunned that he would share a private detail of his affairs with you, you’re caught at a loss for words. “I have no one to tell.”

His fingers slip between yours. “Don’t you? You frequent these gatherings.”

Quickly, you remove your hand from his. “My mother insists that I make an appearance. She’s working on marital arrangements for me as we speak.”

Finnick nods. “I see. I suppose it was a little self-assured for me to believe you came for me.”

“Plenty do.”

Turning his face toward the crowd, he watches them dance and laugh, drink and eat. “It’s true. They know they might get something from me.”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

He looks back to you and centers his gaze upon your eyes. “You don’t act like them. You don’t gorge yourself on extravagant pleasures as they do. You’re not from the Capitol, are you?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m from a lesser district. I was adopted.”

“I pity you. You would have been better off back home.” Finnick reaches behind you and grabs a drink. He leans back to swallow. “I count down the days until I can go back to mine. But… it’s uncertain when I will be allowed to go back.”

You look at him quizzically. “Allowed?”

He smiles cheekily, acknowledging that you heard him correctly. He means for you to know that. “You should dance with me,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. He grabs your wrist with his big hand, his grip so strong that you could never overpower his might. His strength is god-like, a formidable weapon in a fight. But with you… he uses his strength gently.

There is no use denying him his wishes. Finnick pulls you along to the middle of the dance floor where you both quickly become the center of attention. The faces that never bothered to give you a second glance are staring at you unashamedly. But it’s all because of the man who holds you in his arms.

They’re jealous of you… for once.

Finnick leads you in the dance, both arms about your waist and holding you close to him. His cologne warms your senses. His scent is potent and tempting, and you only wish to get closer to him. But with where you stand right now, that’s quite impossible without taking off all your clothes.

You hold onto his neck as you sway to the beat of melody filling the room. He moves your body in time with his. You follow his lead completely. Being in the spotlight magnifies every flaw you can conceive of for everyone to see and tease you for. The blinding light of Finnick’s stardom no doubt makes it worse. No one looks pretty standing beside him.

You press your face against his suit jacket to hide yourself. You can’t take it anymore, looking all around the room and seeing all those judgmental expressions directed toward you. Holding onto Finnick keeps your grounded. He makes you feel safe. As you dance you begin to understand why so many obsess over his attention. Regardless of whether or not it is genuine, it feels that way. Every touch, every look feels real. And it makes you crave more. More of him. And it’s disgusting how quickly he’s made you harbor lustful feelings towards him.

Every time he looks down at you with his mesmerizing gaze, he gives you fuck me eyes. Every single time.

Like now.

You pull at the collar of his jacket and giggle. “Finnick… you can’t look at me like that.”

He lifts your chin. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” His tone is playfully cautious.

“You might make me fall—” you stop, shaking your head, backing away one step to put distance between your bodies.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. Tonight. I’m all yours.” He pulls you back in a spin, leans in close to your ear, lips grazing. “A favor you might… repay one day.”

“What kind of favor are you asking for?” You can’t believe you’re considering his offer. But there’s something about him. How can you resist the pull? You’re only human.

“I know who you are. I know you have a house in your district 7. I need a haven and transportation to the location. Until the storm blows over.” Finnick tells you these things with a big smile on his face.

“Storm? What storm?”

“I’m leaving the capitol. Very soon. You’re the last piece of the puzzle.”

You laugh at him as if he’s crazy. “Why would you want to leave the Capitol, Finnick? You can have everything you want.”

He turns serious for a moment. “I don’t want everything. I just want to go home. I have a connection in your district.”

“Okay,” you say. “I can make arrangements for you.”

Pulling you in closer, Finnick’s eyes drift over your lips. “So shall we head upstairs?”

You interlace your fingers in his and give him a nod. This is not how you expected the evening to turn out. Not at all. Your little interaction with Finnick in the elevator wasn’t meant to lead to this. But he pursued you… and his reasons are clear to you now.

When you’re alone with him in one of the upstairs rooms designated for illicit activities, you look around the four walls that surround you. You’re here while they’re stuck beneath you. You’re where the rest of them long to be.

Alone with Finnick Odair.

He pours you a drink and brings it to you. You sip at the sour liquid while he watches you.

“Look into my eyes, sweetheart.” He’s looking into yours, his irises almost as dark as emeralds in the dim lighting. Rolling back his shoulders, his suit jacket hits the floor. You see his skin through his sheer shirt. You’re sure that’s the point of it. He wants people to look at his body.

It worked on you. Easily.

Under the glitzy chandelier, crystal droplets catch the light and enhance his glow. Finnick slowly reveals himself to you, undressing to please you. The darkness in his eyes is alluring, and it draws you to him. The low lights, the incense burning, and the alcohol in your hand are meant to seduce you, as if having Finnick all to yourself is somehow not enough.

His expensive clothes are left behind when he approaches you. His long arm pulls you close, and he holds you against him, his body warm and comforting.

“My drink,” you say, “it spilled.”

Finnick takes the glass from your hand and drinks what’s left. His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He tosses the glass somewhere, and it lands in a crash.

“Someone will clean that up,” he notes, taking both your hands and leading you across the room. “Just focus on your desires.” He grins ear to ear. “Focus on me.”

With the way he looks tonight, that’s the easiest thing in the whole world. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you throw yourself into his arms, and Finnick gracefully catches you. And for the first time, you share a kiss with him, two worlds colliding for a moment and an eternity all at once. You feel hazy in wonder. The maneuvering of his mouth pulls and demands the greatest pleasure from you. Never have you been kissed this way before. From the rumors you have heard, few rival Finnick Odair as a lover.

Together, you collapse on the sofa, your body on top of his, your lips never breaking contact. You kiss him all over his face, leaving lipstick prints on his cheeks and forehead. Finnick turns swiftly and pulls you under him, holding you down with his bodyweight and warmth. His skin against yours feels so right somehow, despite the situation. The excitement sparks across your skin, every place he touches with his hands, his fingers, and his mouth as he sucks on the pulse point of your neck.

He unzips the back of your outfit and traces down the ridges on your spine. At the same time, you pause to gaze into the other’s eyes. In that moment, you know you’re thinking the same thing, and soon you find yourself tangled in silken bedsheets.

You’re naked under him. This is the first time you’ve been intimate with someone you barely know. But you feel safe with him. He’s gentle, warming you up first before he truly makes a move. It’s skin on skin, two beating hearts, nails digging into flesh and leaving red marks. The echoes of his smooth voice reverberating in your ears, over and over. Over and over. When he’s inside you, you suddenly discover an insatiable side to your own desires. Passion takes over your body, and you can’t get enough of him and the little freak he’s unraveling in your soul.

The bed shakes and creaks, and in a fleeting glance, you look out from under him, you wondering if the pictures on the wall would crash down over you.

You grasp at his skin, the sheets, the headboard, in attempt to hold out, to let this last a little longer. To enjoy him because it’s unlikely that, once he makes his escape, you’ll see him again. Not like this, at least.

You cry when it hits. That rush, crashing into you like a wave. Finnick backs off soon after, giving you space. You’re not even sure if he felt the same.

You lie there for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling. And eventually he leaves you without another word or loving touch. You know that this was all a favor, but you can’t help but fall a little for him. Everyone does.

But you’re just one of his girls. A means to an end.

add yourself to my taglist!! @jaanefitoor @minniluvs @parkersvogue @marvelxhrry @motherphoebe @marcyss @hasalazzo @shaysevxx @miserablebl00d @junoxstevens @heroinhchicblog222 @hoslunix @ellenonesblog @theycantseeus @arxtixmonkeysxxx @lingerologist @mistyyrooms @scoliobean

[moethewriter]

Hello hello I hope you recover well from your stomach flu take your time writing this one and if you don't write it that's fine too. But can I get a jealous finnick x reader. Wishing you all the best for nice and speedy recovery

-Anon 🦋

Of course you can anon! Glad to see you requesting again <3 TITLE: Jealousy, Jealousy WORD COUNT: 1.1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Mentions of what Snow does to certain victors and all that terrible stuff. general mentions of hunger games violence TAGS: GN!Reader from District Four A/N: I am fully recovered and back to work guys! So feeling much better, and glad to be getting back to writing! Short and sweet this one, but it was fun writing it. Thanks again for the request, and as always I take constructive critisicm! Not beta read as per usual!

-

The stars were hardly visible in The Capitol, and that was one of your least favourite things. In 4 you had always been able to look up at the stars and feel some sense of comfort from them. But here, with the lights and the business of it all … they were but a mere speck in the sky, never shining as bright as you wanted.

You were alone, in the gardens of Snow’s mansion after he had called you to The Captiol. Snow was nothing if not a master of selling his precious little things. You, Finnick … and anyone who he deemed beautiful enough to be worthy of someone’s time. You weren’t a fool, though many believed you to be, you were well aware of the true intentions behind this party and why you were there.  At least the champagne was good, sweet and tart and all of the right things, something that was hard to come by in Four. 

“Rough day?”

“Gloss.” You smiled, turning to one of your fellow Victors, sipping the champagne in your hand.

You didn’t know much of Gloss or his sister Cashmere, you knew enough and that was that. You weren’t sitting around braiding hair and sharing gossip with your fellow Victors, you’d rather forget your time in the games than play pretend with people. You had admired Gloss and Cashmere once upon a time, knowing they were going through the same things you were, and how strong they seemed. But you preferred your little bubble with Finnick, Mags and Annie, that’s just what you preferred, much to many people's displeasure. 

“Standing out here all alone, no company to keep you warm?” He questioned, sipping his own champagne, a charming smile plastered across his face.

“Much rather be alone than be with anyone in there.” You told him, placing the glass on the stone of the fountain in front of you.

Being from Four, the water had always calmed you. 

You turned to the man, and smiled towards him. Gloss was what many considered handsome, and strong. Someone who would fight for you and keep your bed warm. You wouldn’t lie, he was gorgeous, so was his sister but your heart belonged to another. Your heart belonged to Finnick Odair. He had been the one to send you into the Hunger Games and he had been the first to greet you when you had been declared the winner

You remembered that day well. The metallic smell stuck in your nose as you were led back to The Capitol. You had been caked in dirt, blood and anything else you had picked up over the three weeks you had been in the games. But Finnick had kissed you, he had held you and loved you even when you couldn’t love yourself. You never felt that you could truly repay him for that, but he always insisted he just needed you. 

“Even me?” Gloss chuckled, walking to stand by you.

“Even you.” You confirmed, gently bumping his shoulder.

“Hey.”

You turned around and your smile brightened.

There stood Finnick, dressed to the nines, escaping from a flock of women that he clearly didn’t want to be with. Finnick had always been considered beautiful, desirable and someone you wanted in The Capito. He hadn’t known anything else in years, and that was heart wrenching to think about. 

“What’s going on here?” His smile was tight as he placed an arm around your waist, a firm grip to your hip.

“Having a conversation, Finnick.” Gloss cleared his throat, taking a sip of the champagne. “It’s something that two people do to get to know one another.” Gloss was snippy in his remarks, which made you frown. 

“Well, the conversation is over.” Finnick deemed, shooting Gloss a nasty look. “Besides, Cashmere was looking for you earlier … She seemed paler than normal. Should probably go and check on her Gloss, wouldn’t want her to be sick in front of the President.” Finnick turned his nose up at the thought.

“It was nice chatting with you, Y/N, we should do it again sometime.” Gloss said, glaring towards Finnick. “Unlike this one … I have some tact and can probably hold a better conversation.” He huffed, storming back towards the party.

Once he was out of sight you whirled on Finnick. “What was that?” You demanded, removing yourself from his arms, annoyed. 

“Nothing.” Finnick said, casually sipping on his champagne. He was clearly relieved that Gloss was gone.

“Come on, Odair.” You snorted. “I’ve known you for almost twelve years, you can’t act dense in front of me.” You tapped your foot, lightly.

“I didn’t like that he was flirting with you.” Finnick admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t like that guy, Y/N. I have never liked him and he clearly wants you and so I had to intervene!” He said.

“Finnick.” You laughed, lightly. “Gloss may have been flirting with me, but he is not the one in my bed at the end of the night. You have nothing to worry about … don’t be so jealous over guys like him. No one can hold a candle to you.” You reached out and gently took his hands.

“He just makes me so angry!” Finnick glared towards the door, squeezing your hand. “Thinking he can walk out here and make small talk and win you over, it’s disgusting and if there weren't  prying eyes all around us I’d have him on the ground to remind him that you are taken.” He said, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Well.” You said, tossing the fine china in your hands off into the bushes, not caring if anyone saw. “You don’t have anything to worry about, okay? Remember that you are the one I choose … always and forever.” You moved to wrap your arms around his neck

He leaned in and slotted his mouth against yours, the warmth of his lips warming up your far more cold and chapped ones. Kissing Finnick was like tasting fresh honey, the liquid gold substance filling your senses, and the smoothness bringing you peace and sweetness. 

“Promise?” He whispered into your lips.

“I promise.” You whispered back. “Though I never took you for the jealous type.” You giggled.

“Shut up.” He laughed, bumping his nose against yours.

“Wait until I tell Mags and Annie.” You snorted, pulling away from him.

“Wait! Y/N! No!” 

“Try and catch me, Odair!” You chuckled hurrying off into the fray of the party.

You were thankful for him, in so many ways but that didn’t mean you weren’t above teasing him, and if he never lived it down …

Well that wasn’t on you.

[bruisedboys]

finnick odair always has his hands on your hips or your lower back (hand placement 🤭🤭)

erm yes!!! he is the king of hand placement I feel

finnick odair x gn!reader

you’ll be taking a walk together and finnick will have his hand on your lower back, innocent enough, just guiding you so you don’t trip or take a wrong turn. still, it totally makes your heart race, especially because his hand is so big and warm and heavy, and you can feel the heat of him through your clothes. or like!! he’s teaching you how to spear for fish (you’re awful at it, but he’s determined to teach you anyway) and you’re ankle deep in the water, finnick hovering behind you, tall and broad chested, his skin sparkling with salt water. and he’ll move up behind you so silently you almost miss it, his warm hand spreading over your lower back. “straight back, honey,” he’ll remind you, his velvety voice close enough to your ear to make you shiver, and you come very close to collapsing like a rag doll.

and when he wants to kiss you he’ll almost always pull you in by the hips, fingers wrapping around your hipbones as he tugs you closer to him. his palm pressing against a sliver of bare skin where your shirt rides up. when he’s got you where he wants you, he’ll kiss you dizzy, his thumb loving on the plush skin at your hip, his fingers pressed to your sides so tight it’s almost bruising.

if he wants you even closer, he’ll slide a hand to your lower back to draw you in easily. it flusters you every time — it doesn’t help that he’s got such lovely big, warm hands. you’ll sigh into his mouth as he does it, maybe screw your fingers into his shirt or his hair, and finnick will grin into the kiss before deepening it. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

[whillywisp]

Part 2 of Finnick being the most amazing dad/doting husband because I'm sure this is just therapy for my darlings with daddy issues and, well, issues🌱

Warnings: a little long, a little angstier today, implied mention of what happened to finnick. But still as fluffy as yesterday.

Part 1 ☁︎

If Finnick was caring and terrified during the pregnancy, multiply that by ten thousand and that's him postpartum. This man was convinced the very air his family breathed was out to get them. He refused to sleep because he was scared something would happen if he dared to get some rest but after you very gently (you yelled) explained to him that he cannot stay up for three nights straight because no Finnick the baby doesn't need to be held twenty five-eight please for the love of god get some damn sleep, he finally got some rest.

Recovering from pregnancy is a whole other nightmare but he made it bearable. Finnick's favourite thing in the entire world, as previously stated, was taking care of you. So you know he was at your beck and call round the clock. He helped you shower, helped you move around, stayed up with you during night time feedings so you wouldn't feel alone. He cooked every meal and made sure you had everything needed within an arm's reach. Sometimes you were so overcome with love for him that you would tug him close and pepper his face with kisses because where on earth would you find someone as gentle and caring and loving in this miserable world as this angel right here? Nowhere thank you.

But it was seeing him with her that had you convinced you saved a country in your last life (well, in this life and while it was group effort—) to be able to witness something so pure and gentle.

Finnick held his little girl like he she was made of the finest glass and would disappear if he so much as breathed too loud near her. His wide eyes traced every movement, every twitch of a muscle, every breath your baby took. If her little hand curling around his made his pretty eyes gloss over, you absolutely saw it and you made sure to tease him about, for which you were met with embarassed smiles but no denials. He wasn't ashamed of loving his family and least of all his baby girl.

But every spring came stained grey from winter's shadow, still lingering around the corner as if seeking spring's warmth too. And Finnick's past, to him, felt a bit like that.

What happened to Finnick was not a secret he carried in his pocket folded up with a list of names who still bragged of their contribution to his survival or hidden behind forced smiles anymore. What happened to Finnick was public and while he is as not at all at fault for it, humiliation and self-hatred didn't have a mind of its own and regardless of the circumstances and the people that were at fault for everything, he still blamed himself, he still dreaded the day his baby, his entire world, found out what happened. And he told you about it of course.

"What if...what if she hates me?"

You looked up from the book you had been reading, glancing at him where he lay on his back. Your daughter, now nine months old, fast asleep on his chest and your voice a little incredulous as you whisper back. "I'm not sure if you noticed but she worships the ground you walk on."

The smile he gives you is forlorn and pressed into the top of your daughter's head. He blinked, looking away from you and in the blink of an eye you had dropped your book, uncaring where it landed and gently craddled his face in your hands, wiping away tears that stained his emrald green eyes.

"Angel—"

"I don't want her to find out," he sniffed, tightening his arms around your daughter, taking a shuddering breath before continuing. "I do-don't want her to find out. She'll hate me. She'll think I'm so weak. I was so weak."

You sighed, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead before wiping away tears that escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Rage and grief burned in your heart with vengeance and you wished, not for the first time, the need to rip those wealthy capitolites to shreds with your bare hands, to make these vile people disappear, praying they'd take the pain they inflicted on him away with them.

But instead you used the same hands and pulled him close, letting him cry into your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and your daughter, whispering quietly but firmly to him. "Finnick Odair, those years of you life were bleak. Those years of your life were harsh. And you were a lot of things during them: broken, hurt, abused. But you weren't weak. You survived, you made sure to survive because you knew you needed to survive to be free. That was your way of winning. And if we raise this baby right, she'll love you regardless, hell even more, when she finds out. I love you and I agree with you on just about everything. But this, this I refuse to because the man i married, the boy I fell for, is a survivor."

He peered at you through wet lashes, sniffling softly as he pressed a kiss to your chest and then the top of your daughter's head: his quiet way of saying 'I love you. Thank you for being my light.' You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, tightening your arms around your family.

You weren't lying when you said your daughter worshipped the ground he walked on. He was her hero. She followed him around the house since the minute she started crawling, screamed for him every morning and only calmed down when he picked her up and out of crib and in the most Finnick fashion, loved you in her gentle ways. She got that from me, he would say smugly as you had to eat another fistful of mushed baby food because of course your daughter picked that her way to show her love for you after having seen Finnick feed you fruit earlier. You would glare at him over her little sprout hair, identical to the one his hair was tied into on her highness' orders, your heart threatening to explode in your chest from the sheer amount of love it was filled with.

Your daughter was not only growing up to be the most precious child in the world, but she was also terrifyingly bright and understanding, even at such an young age. On days she noticed Finnick's need to be quiet or when he was too overwhelmed by everything, you noticed her making a conscious effort to stay quiet and keep her noises to a minimum. If Finnick needed time alone, she wouldn't bother him but spent her time with you, telling you about how daddy needs his quiet time and you had to hold onto the cushion behind you on the couch to hold back from crying, completely baffled at and extremely grateful that you both were raising an angel like her. But you weren't all that surprised when you thought about it a little more deeply. She was, after all, her daddy's little girl.

The day she starts kindergarten feels like the most emotional episode of the worst soap opera possible because you woke up to them...crying. And saying their goodbyes as he tearfully packed her lunch and did her hair, as if she was off to war. And it took quite a while to coax them both out of the house because I love you both but we cannot be late on the first day you guys please. But on the walk to kindergarten it was peaceful and full of laughter, because they could both pretend this was just their morning walk.

But of course, the tears were back when the gates closed with the promise of keeping them separated for three hours.

"What if she gets hungry and can't open the lunch box?"

You frowned looking up at him, shaking your head. You both were standing outside the gates to the school along with other worried parents, some taking a break from said worrying to side eye you both, something you had learned to tune out years ago.

"Finnick, she showed us she can open the lunch box just fine before we left home."

"But what if she can't here?" He insisted, looking down at you like you were the insane one for not considering that scenario. You sighed, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the gates, trying to ease his worries.

"I promise you if she needs help with that, she will ask her teacher," you smiled at him, pecking his lips gently to stop him when he opens his mouth to voice another bizarre worry. "She'll be fine. She's our kid, she'll be perfectly fine."

He cracked a small smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you both start walking back, giving in with a small chuckle. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we should get a puppy to keep us busy now since she wants to do all grown up things go to scho..."

You look up at him as he suddenly trails off, confused as you catch him staring at something thoughtfully in the distance and follow his gaze to freeze against him slightly. In the distance, still as grey and imposing as ever, was the abandoned building which once held District 4's career academy. Strange feelings that always came with seeing it, both good and bad and nostalgic, make you tighten your grip on his hand and his around your shoulders.

Less than a decade ago, only a few metres and a small canal away from the kindergarten that your daughter now attended, children like her were being trained to kill, you and Finnick being a part of them. The thought of that still makes your blood run cold but the relief that rushed in right after, knowing your baby would never have to do that, is enough to let go of another hour of the countless you had spent in there, training to survive a system bigger than the arena could ever be.

You took a deep breath, forcing to maintain your light tone as you forced both of you to continue moving. "Heard they're building another school there, to keep the spirits of learning still alive and all that."

He smiled, kissing the top of your head fondly. "And I assume you want to help out in that?" The cheeky smile you had given him was answer enough but for him, it was like a sigh of relief, of brighter days no longer stained with gloom of his past.

People and places had changed to accomodate this new change, this everlasting spring, and maybe he was looking forward to letting his soul do the same too.

A/N: i agree this might've gone slightly offtopic in certain places but bare with me. I can't decide if want this to be the end or write more. But I hope you enjoyed this regardless of these things. All my love 🌱

[mrsnancywheeler]

silver springs

finnick odair x gn!reader

2k words

masterlist

summary: finnick's cycle of self destruction stops for no one, even if it tears the two of you apart, but you refuse to fade into the past.

warnings: angst, lots of it, self destructive behavior, mentions of trafficking, allusions to consensual smut, reader values their virginity, arguments, break ups, trauma, unhealthy relationship dynamics, unhappy ending, but could be interpreted as hopeful if you want it to be, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick knows he should just fall asleep, let himself rest and turn his brain off from overthinking, but he can't. You deserve better, so much better than the broken boy from District 4 who will forever be playing his role in the puppet show. Where you've fought the demons off with compassion for each person you've come across, it shames him how easily he can fall into the facade of the egotistical Capitol darling. Eventually his outlook will consume the joy you've harvested to forcefully in the depths of your heart and he knows not a minute will pass that he can look at himself in the mirror knowing he did that to you. So he has to end it, to let you be free for a much happier life, at least that's what he tells himself as he prepares for you to wake.

You're so beautiful in the moonlight that glows on your sleeping face and he's even more enthralled when the sun begins to rise and it's like you're an angel in the colors. He's not sure when he let a few tears shed thinking about how when you wake up it'll be the last time he sees you like this, but it's for the best. When you do hazily wake up, blankets falling off your bare body as you sit up, all your sleepy smiles make his heart clench even more, but his brain more certain.

“Good morning." You mumble out, leaning in for a kiss which he scoots away from and your incoherent brain snaps to attention. No matter how long it's been since you've been in the arena, you doubt that instinct will ever go away, the need to be constantly on edge if something seems slightly off, and he is. Finnick is usually the type to be just returning from a swim with some fish he caught in the morning or arms wrapped around you. “What's wrong?" You can feel a defense mechanism settling in with the numbness of your voice, had you really finally had the courage to let someone have your body only for them to pull away from your love the very next morning? What a cruel master the universe seemed to be no matter what cards you played.

Finnick's eyes were glossy and he rubbed his face as he sniffled, forcing the words out of his reluctant throat, “I don't think we should see each other anymore." Before the words have even finished tumbling out of his mouth you've pulled the blanket back up to cover your exposed chest. How could you be so cautious of something only for it to come from the person you least expected, apparently you weren't cautious enough.

“Oh." It's humiliating, if you could just disappear into the air you would give anything to do so. You can't cry, it would only further that humiliation, so you robotically move to the side of the bed to grab the panties that had been so lazily thrown off by him the night before. “Congrats on the score, Finnick, hopefully I'm worth a good amount of points." Your voice can't be allowed to crack or shake, but it's fighting against your willpower.

“It's not like that." Finnick quickly says, observing you, and he'll never say it, but he's scared. He doesn't want you to hate him, to break your heart, he just wants you to be free of his chains.

You scoff and have to force yourself to stand without the protection of the blanket so you can find the rest of your strewn about clothes. “I’m sure that's what you tell all of them.” All of us, he's always been a rumored playboy, but with what the Capitol did to him that was what you'd placed it on. Not that he played people, but that he was unfairly used, now you reasoned, two things could be true at once. Him having past partners had never bothered you when he began talking to you, but now you wondered how he left them. You glance back for less then a second when you see he's buried his head in hands, not answering.

He knows this isn't true, that he's doing this because he cares too much to let his darkness eat you alive. Maybe he'll even have to say that to you, so he won't have to live with the additional weight of your resentment.

“I just-" Your throat breaks on a sob you're holding back, “I know it's not important to everyone, but it was important to me, Finnick. I gave you something that I wasn't ready to give anyone else because I thought…” You sighed, "It doesn't matter what I thought, but it's so fucked that you took that away when you knew.” A stray tear has forced its way through which you're wiping away as soon as you can. Your pants are in a pile at the end of the bed which you quickly grab.

“I'm sorry." His voice isn't hiding the tears as he looks up from his hands, he's genuine and you can tell as much from his voice, but it doesn't stop the internal berating of being so stupid to finally share that intimate part of yourself when he would leave you hours later. “I didn't plan it like that, honey, I didn't."

“Please, don't call me that." He nods his head in retreat after your request that was meant to be more forceful, preferably he'd never speak to you again.

“You deserve better, so much better." You agree, the bare minimum would be a day before he broke the news not hours after you'd slept with him. “Better than me, I need you to have better.” He feels like a child, knees pulled up to his chest as he gives you up so you'll be far away from his destruction, but you feel more like a toy he's gotten bored of playing with. Like a hurricane it hits you that he means being with you, a sentiment he’s murmured many times in your relationship even if you insisted otherwise at each utterance. Yet you can no longer find it in you to assure him otherwise, no matter how much you disagree.

“Oh my god, this is the ‘woe is me, I'm Finnick Odair, so unlovable’ act again!” You could tear your hair out, "I could love you, Finnick! That's who could and I'm so sick of this push and pull thing you play at. But we are all dealing with things inside and you refuse to be, not even helped, but at least cared for!”

He's gotten up from the bed, shaking his head with as much intent as he can muster, "If you loved me it would kill you.”

"Says who?” You no longer care about whether or not you're keeping composure or yelling, you've spent every moment you can trying to assure him and within the hours you slept he decided to tear it all apart. "Oh right, just you! You and your endless piles of self doubt, I'm not asking for that to go away, but you could at least be open to hearing others out."

“It's for you, honey, I couldn't live with myself if I put you through that."

Any movements you were making stop as you stare at him, he's so honest, so eager, and you radiate an anger he despises himself for making, but wants to catch the last few sparks of before he leaves forever. “You are so selfish. Have you ever even considered the fact that I would suffer more without you, then with you, or were you too busy trying to punish yourself for not spending every moment of your life in a pile of guilt?”

He doesn't answer and you know it's a no. Part of you says it's wrong to tell a man who's always eating himself up from the inside that he's selfish, but you feel like you're on autopilot.

"I'm a person, Finnick! Everyone you've ever dated is. You do not get to play house for a year to live in a fantasy and then push us away whenever your thoughts are too much, that's why it doesn't work, you won't let it. And everyone who puts in the effort to love you, to care about you, has it all swept away when you're ready to wallow again. That way when you briefly decide it's over you can do it all over again.” You're pulling on the pants before you can look around for the shirt in some hidden spot.

Finnick feels like he's running cold, part of him knows you're right that his cycle is neverending, but you can understand, he tells himself. Even if you're a fellow victor, no one can help him, he's resigned himself to it and you're too light of a bubble to let you pop. So he has to live in denial, that he has to protect you from himself even if that is really what's attacking you now, “I care and I can't do this to you. You don't understand, I'm like a whirlpool waiting to suck everything in with me."

“You have." You find the shirt and button it up with fumbling fingers, blood pulsating in anger, sadness, and the want to beg him to change his mind and let you sit with forever. But you know you can't subject yourself to his cyclone of self-destruction any longer, not when you have your own struggles to deal with. The things you couldn't tell him about because of the constant pressure to be the light in his bleak outlook of the world, even when you were so tempted whenever it seemed like he was in his true state. The Finnick that was sweet and giving, or maybe you were an idealist wishing for a man that he could truly never be. “I won't fade into obscurity over you.” Your voice has become considerably softer and you gaze at his shaking body.

"What?” He asks, he knows that you won't understand why he has to do what he's convinced himself he must, but that doesn't prevent him from wanting to take it all back, embrace you, and promise to do better even if he knows he won't.

"I'm a victor too, Finnick. Every party, I'll be there, when you have to watch required programs on the television, I'll be there. I won't take a step back just because I'm hurt, we're all wounded dogs, Finnick, some of us just handle it better and I won't quiet myself just because it might remind you of another person you've pushed behind.”

“I'm not asking you too."

“No, but it's what you're used to. I'm not just someone else from home, you will always hear my voice, see my face, and I need you to know that. I want you to get better, Finnick, because I care about you more than you can even fathom, but I will be a hitch from what you're used to. You deserve to know that, I'm sorry if that makes it more difficult for you or maybe it's what you need. A wake-up call that whatever you're doing is what's actually hurting people not whatever fucked up fantasy it is you're listening to in your head.”

Finnick wanted you to know how much you cared, but said nothing as he pushed down more tears when you left, never to be in his room again. The mornings spent in your comfort are officially gone. You'd been right of course, he couldn't wallow and move on because you were everywhere. Your laugh in his ears at every party, your saccharine voice on the screen, your presence around every turn. Maybe you'd even been right when you insinuated this was what he was missing, he couldn't forget about you long enough to fall into his routine, especially not when the echoes that once told him he had to let you go sang a different tune. How destructive he was for letting the one person who could even attempt to anchor his tortured soul go.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Thank you for reading, as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs, is all super appreciated! I was going to write another chapter of the lakes but I had this idea in my brain presenting so here it is. 💋

[allisluv]

First off congrats on 200!!! I feel like it hasn’t been that long since 100 followers.

💍 I would like to request something with the victors ie Johanna, Finnick, Haymitch (gloss, Enobaria, cashmere, Cecelia, Mags if you want) before the quarter quell. Reader is a victor from District 8 and their talent is crocheting so they go around crocheting little animals for the other victors. Could you write something about what animal Reader would give the victors and their reaction? 😁

ooooo i love this so much!!

i think you would crochet johanna a black cat. its her spirit animal like if i cracked her soul open, that's what i would expect to see.

finnick would love a blue whale or a starfish. i think theyre his favorite animals and he would give them designated spots on his bed.

you would make katniss a copy of buttercup and she scoffs, pretends to hate it, but sleeps with it in her arms every night.

i feel like peeta would really appreciate a koala or maybe a sloth. don't ask me why because i dont have a clue, its just a gut feeling.

haymitch would recieve a grizzly bear with a bottle of alcohol in its hand. he fucking loves it

[writesick-lover]

Just One Date pt.2

>> part 1!

A/N: Hi guys! You absolutely loved the first part of this and I cannot express how happy that makes me :D I am so thankful for every reblog, like and comment! Here's the awaited part 2, I really hope you'll like it! Should there be a part 3?

Let me know ;D

Warning: !spoilers if you haven't read the first part!, slight hint of drugs and swear words

Special mentions: @merromimo , @justtrying2getby

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Cameras. 

There were cameras everywhere as soon as you stepped out of the train. The citizens of Capitol had grouped around the station as if your arrival was worth looking at, and they certainly hadn't missed the show. Your breath hitched in your throat as soon as you saw the dark voids of lenses taking you in. They recorded your every step, which eventually led to tripping and falling off the last two stairs. They also manage to eternalise the way you landed into a pair of strong arms, the chuckle the person holding you made, and when you looked up, you saw the broad shoulders of Finnick Odair, covering you from the broadcast. 

"Watch your step, honey," he whispered with a sly smirk, making you look up. Anger took over your previous shock. You knew you could easily be the talk of the Capitol. And you couldn't care less about their shenanigans as long as you had the promise of peace. Because you knew they couldn't hurt you any more than they had already done. They couldn't hurt you any more than your own district already did. But you didn't expect it from any of the victors. Not from Finnick Odair. Though the question making you go crazy at that moment was, what did you really expect? 

You didn't expect of Finnick Odair to even glance your way, ever since you saw him in the Capitol after your games. Why he was there, you don't know. He acknowledged you a few times you happened to be at the same party in Capitol. You never expected him to approach you alone. Let alone, ask you on a date. And then bring the whole nation to come and watch your downfall. No, no matter what you had done in the past and how much you had come to despise your life, you would never allow anyone to drag you down like this. You had your pride to keep that for yourself.

And that pride led you to a small dimly lit room, somewhere near the station. Your memories were blurred by the red that kept colouring your sight, your chest rising up and down rapidly, with your loud huffs of air that fell on the face in front of you. He barely breathed as you held a small knife to his throat, his hands up in surrender, but that smile, that smirk on his face, you couldn't wipe it away even with a dagger threatening his thread of life to be cut. He was a victor too, after all, but you refused to step away now. "When you approached me," you started, still panting. "I thought you confused me with someone else. When you asked me out on a date, I thought you had to be totally wasted,"

"But you came-" Finnick hissed, making you push the cold metal against his neck even more, shutting him up. "I came because I never expected you to be so out of your fucking mind!" you retorted, your voice louder. The truth was, you didn't know why you came. You thought he might really have taken an interest in you. Was it that bad? To finally be able to escape your life in your district? No more spitting on you on the streets, no more threats, no more surviving. But as the seconds went by, you were more and more convinced that was the life you deserved. 

Meanwhile, Finnick was panicking inside. This was not how he imagined it to be, your dagger on his throat, the cold metal slowly grazing his dead skin cells before it could dig into his nerves and veins. He was so caught up in himself, so naive, thinking you would just roll with all of this. Now he thought you might stab him. Your guard was up, the smile from before was gone, it was replaced by anger, fury and... fear. You were scared. So was he. He could play on that. 

"I'm not out of my mind, sugar, you don't have to worry about that. And you don't have to worry about them," he nodded towards the locked door. "They won't hurt you anymore," His eyes softened as he spoke. If you could just play this with him, they will hurt neither of you.

Your eyes widened. "I'm not... I'm not worried about them," you relaxed your grip. And you noticed; Finnick did not take advantage of that. Then you let him go completely and he bent down, caressing his sore throat. "You have a nice grip," he nodded. 

But you stayed silent, watching him warily. "I swear, I won't hurt you," he extended his arms to you. You blinked a few times before your muscles relaxed. You haven't heard that sentence in 2 years. How refreshing, to have someone say that. But at what cost. "What do you want then?" you asked, still not letting him close enough. He smiled, gently. "You remember Katniss and Peeta?"

"The new victors?"

"Yes. I know how they survived this. We can do that too," he spoke softly, each word a seed in your heart, setting it ablaze. "How?" you asked too eagerly. "We will become star-crossed lovers ourselves," You gulped.

"Trust me."

He took your hand, opening the door to the outside. There were people on the sunlit streets, your hand in his soon enough catching their attention. You looked around, noticing their curious glances, the lifted eyebrows, faces of amusement. They wanted this.

Finnick spun you to face him, placing his palms firmly against your cheeks. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," you whispered, and with that, he pulled you in. Butterflies exploded in your stomach, his lips tasting sugar and ocean salt at the same time. They created a taste you could never forget. 

And if there was one thing you had to give to Finnick Odair, it was his charm. He did keep his word. He wooed you with just one date.

And that's how you happened to end up here. It took a few weeks, a few meetings, a bunch of interviews and you stood in one of the rooms in one of Capitol's mansions, the party downstairs at its peak. It took you a few kisses too, but you didn't dare to admit that it was your favorite part. 

A subtle knock on your door made you turn around as you tried to finish zipping up your dress. "Come in," you said, immediately smiling when you met Finnick's dark brown eyes. "Ready?" he asked, but you hesitated. "I don't know, I mean, what if they-"

"Hey, no what ifs, it's too late for that anyway," he came closer, placing his hands on your hips. "We'll just grab you a few drinks and you'll see how fast you'll relax," his warm breath tickled your ear as he turned your back to him, finishing your zip. "Finnick!" you hissed back instead of thank you, turning away to hide the redness on your cheeks. "I'm kidding! Just keep close to me and I'm sure you'll have the time of your life,"

"Yeah, can't wait for that," you mumbled as he gasped dramatically, your hand already in his, dragging you out and to the party.

As always, your entrance brought all the attention to you. It was like as soon as you started to appear with Finnick, his beams seemed to shine out of you too. He switched his grasp from your hand to your lower back, guiding you through the crowd, looking forward as if none of them existed. And everything seemed fine, until people actually started approaching you. You were terrified, unable to count how many times Finnick had to nudge you to relax before you could deprive his arm of any blood flow. Soon enough he was handing you a pink drink he fetched from the waiter, making you relax with every sip.

"Sleepless pills," one of the colorful guests smiled at you. 

"Huh?" you managed to say back. 

"It's a new pill from Capitol! Why sleep when you can eat this and stay up all night? Without feeling tired?" the woman squealed together with the man next to her. You looked up at Finnick to exchange shocked glances before you excused yourself, your head spinning, Finnick following you right after. "This is sick," you stated, leaning against one of the tables for support. 

"I'm trying to catch at least a few hours of sleep every night and they are creating pills to avoid it?" you couldn't believe the words you had just heard.

"Don't mind them, Y/n, you know they will never know what it is like," Finnick caressed your back gently, but his words and alcohol only made you angrier. 

"I think I need a minute," you breathed heavily, looking away from Finnick and down to the floor. "Should I get you water or something?" you heard him say, his words coming in muffled. You dragged yourself to the wall near you, sliding down your back and onto the floor. 

"I will get you-" you couldn't hear the rest, looking up and watching as Finnick's black suit disappeared in the crowd of walking rainbows. Then everything went dark.

When Finnick came back with water, you weren't there. In fact, you completely disappeared out of the hall. He looked around in panic, your name slipping down his tongue. He was ready to shout it at the crowd, maybe they noticed something while sipping the purple liquid...

Your drink was pink.

Finnick's face turned pale with realisation. And then he was shoving his way through the guests and out of the hall. 

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⤞ My masterlist ⤝

[inatimate-icarus]

Bones Chapter 1

Summary: You had always found comfort in your district life, and the relationship you all had with the capitol. But that changes when you leave the arena, Finnick takes notice of you, will you allow him to help you cope? Or will he remain just another capitol mutt in your eyes?

Warnings: Couple of swear words here n there, mentions of nausea/vomiting, depictions of violence/gore, blood, mentions inducing vomiting.

W.C: 4k

Your mother straightened out your collar and smoothed a hand over your shoulders. You were donning a soft olive green sweater vest, it sat neatly against the crisp white button-up and was a welcome contrast to your dark brown corduroy pants. Not too much, but good enough for the cameras. Standing a bit straighter to look at your parents, you felt it, overwhelming confidence. It has been five whole years since you’ve come of age and you have yet to have your name pulled from that infamous glass bowl. This is it. This was the year you left for the arena and came back to your district, adding to its ever-increasing pool of victors. This was the year you made your district proud. That thought consumed your mind, while you climbed the steps to stand with Granite, the District Two escort. You stood proudly, a confident smile spread across your countenance while you listened to your parents cheer you on.

Another round of cheers erupted when a small child, who looked like they'd just come of age, approached the pedestal. You shook hands with your district partner, Gabbro, a kid in your neighborhood. You’ve spoken only a handful of times, but you offer them a sweet smile. You knew they wouldn’t last five minutes in the arena, and knowing that gave you stirred something inside you but, the capitol loves a show. You watched them tear up, they were aware of the situation they were in. The capitol loves a show. You pulled Gabbro into a tight hug, patting their head and shushing quietly. You let them sob into your shoulder as you bathe in the reactions of the crowd. After your brief goodbyes, the next couple of days seemed to pass by in a blur, before you knew it you were preparing for the tribute parade.

You spent nearly all your time training and acquainting yourself with the other tributes, making quick allies with the tributes from districts 1 and 4. Granite was one of your constant supporters, giving you constant praise for your “overwhelming confidence”. Enobaria was rough around the edges and, though she made sure to see to it that both you and Gabbro were thoroughly prepared, she clearly had a soft spot for the younger tribute. Continuing to talk them through the nerves whilst you prepared to put your best foot forward for the people of the capitol.

You turned quickly when you felt someone else's eyes piercing the back of your head, your eyes meeting soft, inviting green ones. It took you a moment to recognize his face, though as he approached with a smug smile and the confidence of a seasoned victor, you knew exactly who that peacock was.

Finnick Odair. The youngest victor in the entire history of the games, you’d spent countless nights rewatching the 65th game, analyzing every move that eventually led him to victory. It was embarrassing to admit it, but you were a bit jealous, he was a year younger than you. And whilst you stayed in your district, training, he had already won the games; and with it the hearts of the capitol citizens. “Your stylist truly outdid himself.” A sickeningly saccharine voice filled your ears, and a stage-ready smile quickly found its way to your face.

“That he did, the gold is easy on the eyes.” You fiddled the hem of your golden skirt, suddenly feeling very conscious of your every move. Finnick reaches a hand out to adjust your cape, letting it pool behind you. “Yet wonderfully striking.” He was dangerously close, his left hand twirling an imaginary object on your shoulder. “Careful, Odair.” You warned, not wanting any unnecessary rumors ruining your chances. Though you made no attempt at pushing him away, that seemed to egg him on as he leaned forward to speak quietly in your ear. “Y’know comforting that kid was genius- you’ll have to give me acting lessons sometime.”

“What?” The word slipped without another thought, how could he tell? You felt you were an excellent actor, or at least, you thought you were. Finnick smirked, he knew what he was doing, trying to shake your resolve. You gently place a hand on his arm, taking a step back. Your trained smile came back to your face while you watched him, searching for a motive. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Finnick's expression didn’t change, but he moved a hand to his pocket, successfully fishing out a sugar cube and held it out to you. “Sweetheart, I know an act when I see one.” You shook your head and he pops the sugar into his mouth stepping closer again. “See, I have sort of a knack for finding secrets,” Shrinking a couple of sizes while Finnick towers over you, “And that fire in your eyes is enticing.”

You won’t let him shake you, having dedicated hundreds of hours of your life to training. You won’t let pretty eyes and a pair of dimples be your downfall, you stand straighter. “I’m afraid I have no secrets to give, Odair. But I’ll let you know once I change my mind.” You continued to stare into his eyes, this man is dangerous. One wrong move could cost you your sponsors. There’s an intense staring contest before the crowd suddenly grows louder, and the other districts start mounting their chariots. “I suppose that’s my cue,” You bow slightly, “til’ next time, Finnick.”

For a moment his expression falls into something unidentifiable, but just as quickly as it appears it’s gone, and his signature darling smile is back. As you turn your back you hear him speak under his breath. “For your sake, I hope that time never comes.” He made his way back to his tributes while the chariots prepared to leave. You didn’t have a moment to process his words before your performance began, but unwillingly his words followed you for days to come. And they continue to stay with you as your capsule slowly brings you into the arena.

You were a career. You’d trained your entire life for these games, physically, at least. That time spent never could’ve prepared you for the moment your knife plunged into another tribute's chest, no one told you how to rid yourself of the nausea you felt when his limp body hit the ground. With zero time to recover, suddenly all that time spent training was tossed out the window as soon as you saw Gabbro running into a little cave nearby, they’re just a child. The disgusting realization came as you fought off the tributes trying to corner him, you honestly don’t know what came over you.

Gabbro was a wonderful climber for their age, they were smaller and extremely agile. Making it easy for them to get down the pit, and once you had both made it down to the cornucopia, it was a bloodbath. The stinging scent of iron permeated your nose, and a wave of nausea came rushing over you. Fortunately, the nausea was quickly forgotten when a tribute from District 7 came barreling towards you, his ax high above his head. Which left you a clear opening, you quickly dive and aim for his chest. A guttural noise left his mouth, as he stood still for a moment, probably trying to figure out why you looked so horrified.

You were raised to kill, so why did you feel so disgusting? You realized you didn’t even remember his name, a subconscious effort to make it easier to get rid of the other tributes. The less you know about them the better, there’s nothing for you to get attached to. But that didn’t stop you from keeping a hand over your mouth as he collapsed, once again without a moment to recover you heard shouts from a cave nearby. Gabbro. That was all you needed before you were running in, but how you wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t saved the kid, maybe then you wouldn’t have heard about how much they missed their family. About the kitten they got recently, Rocky, and how he refuses to sleep without them. About how their favorite color is olive green because it reminded them of you, and your bravery. You wished you hadn’t held them and covered their ears every time the cannon went off.

While the both of you were making your way across the rocky terrain, searching for your next meal, the conversations seemed to flow easily. Speaking to someone about something that wasn’t the game was like taking a breath you didn’t know you needed. After just a couple of days in the arena 18 people, including you and Gabbro, were all that remained. Some of the tributes were people you had an alliance with, but they surely wouldn’t welcome you with open arms now.

Looking for food and water was a walk in the park if the park was scorching hot and also a desert. You two had managed to find a lake, the fish in it were small but you were in no position to be picky.

The night came quickly, urging the search for shelter. The sand started to blend, it was hard to tell what direction you’d come from or which way you were going. The cool light of the moon seemed to shine on the sand, illuminating the silent expanse, and then the canon fired.

Six ear-ringing shots boomed throughout the arena.

That’s 12 of us left. You were a little impressed, 6 people simultaneously? A sick part of you was relieved, not only because you didn’t die, but because you could already see the blood staining your hands. The nauseating fanfare began as the first six tributes flashed across the stars, you held Gabbro tighter, urging them to cover their ears.

The other tributes had continued to drop like flies, 9, 3, 2. Cannon after cannon for another week, until it was just a pair from District 4. You and Gabbro had been hunted down at least a couple of times during that, having just narrowly avoided it every time. On day 9 you had killed 3 people, around your age, one of them just barely missing any major vital points on Gabbro. But they didn’t get away unscathed, a large gash stretched from side to side on their right leg, making moving camp a little harder.

It was quiet for days, which was to be expected with 4 living people left. But unfortunately, the momentary peace was boring. And the capitol loves a show. The surrounding silence was replaced with a deep growling, you stood cautiously, not knowing what you were to face. A liger. If you were in a different situation it would’ve been gorgeous, you shook Gabbro awake, and a look of utter terror painted their face. “Gab, I need you to run back to the pit as fast as you can. Do you understand me? Don’t slow down, don’t turn back, I swear I’ll be right behind you.”

You gave Gabbro a tight hug, a goodbye hug if your luck had run out. Maybe 4 will kill them quickly, and it’ll all be over. You throw a knife toward the liger and it fixates on you, you can hear Gabbro limping their way to escape. The spear you’d taken proved to be useful, successfully putting distance between you and the large cat. And then it pounced, your spear sat in its mouth, while you tried desperately to hold it back. You could see the handle bending in on itself, you were ready to die, you just needed to buy Gabbro enough time to run.

A rock hit the liger in the eye, it quickly diverted its attention from you and you kicked it off. You looked over, horrified when you saw Gabbro toss another rock in its direction, you took advantage of the distraction and pierced your spear into its jugular. You let out a long sigh, before pushing its body off.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” You ran up to Gabbro, fuming. “I told you to run, what are you doing back here?” Your anger was misplaced, you knew that, but you also knew that you didn’t want to watch this child die. “You needed help!” “I need you to live, Gabbro.” You were both crying, knowing that only one of you was getting out of the arena didn’t make arguing any easier.

Gabbro threw their arms around you, sobbing into your chest. “Please just let me stay with you, please.” For a moment you stood still, and then you hugged them back just as tight. You two separated and gave sad smiles, and that’s when you heard it, an arrow flying. Gabbro was fast, much faster than you, they pushed you aside. “Gabby?” A soft gasp escaped your lips while you both fell to the ground, arrows continued to fly past while you laid them down.

“Gabbro, I need you to stay with me okay? Keep your eyes open just for a little while. I'll be right back. Stay awake, I’ll be right back.” Rising reluctantly, you raised your spear to the perpetrators. Marina and Caspian, the two tributes from District 4. Caspian held his bow with an arrow prepared to strike, Marina stood not too far away from him with a sinister grin on her face.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you. They’re a good kid, ‘s such a shame, they could’ve lived a good life.” Marina’s condescending tone made your blood boil, before you could retort Caspian's arrow narrowly avoided your head. You strafe left and pulled a knife from your belt, throwing it straight at Caspian's left knee, he fell almost immediately. You look back to Marina who’s already charging towards you, her trident glistened with something in the moonlight. You block her advance but she knocks you back, landing on your back you quickly recover. Another arrow surges past, scraping your bicep. You let out a hiss of pain and felt the wound, a black substance leaked out of your suit. A wave of nausea followed and you shook away your blurring vision, Marina’s sick laugh permeated your senses. “It’s amazing what a little bit of Fang Tooth venom can do to a person, isn’t it?”

Fang Tooth Bats? You had a brief run-in with them a couple of days ago, luckily you and Gabbro had avoided getting bit, but you watched a couple of tributes fall victim to their venom. Marina once again lunged toward you, you snapped out of your haze and managed to trip her. I need to get rid of Caspian first. You had sent your last knife to his knee, giving you no more projectiles, so you ran to him before he could load another arrow. Your spear drives a deep hole in his chest, the cannon booming as soon as his body hits the sand.

You can hear Marina’s shouts from behind you, but you’re struggling to understand what she’s saying. The blood seemed to smell much stronger now, and you fought the dizzy feelings. You grab the machete from Caspian’s side, but Marina tackles you to the ground. You glanced at Gabbro’s body, they didn’t seem to be moving. She laughed while she looked down at you, “You have to be some kind of stupid to think that kid is gonna live any longer, they’re already dead!” She lifted her trident above her head, but you grasped the handle of the machete while your other hand sat flat with the blade. Your strength was rapidly declining, struggling to hold the weapon in front of you. “Y’know Gabbro was first on my list, easy target. It’d take nothing for my trident to pierce their tiny body.” Her trident was getting dangerously close, you were racking your brain for something to get you out of this situation. You used your remaining strength and pushed her off, grabbing a fistful of sand and throwing it in her eyes. Without a moment to spare you slashed her throat while she struggled, her sick smile remained as her body fell.

Gabbro. The nauseating feeling was back and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep your balance, and you wobbled toward Gabbro, who still hadn’t moved an inch since you’d left. “Gabby? Gabby, are you okay?” Their chest was rising and falling steadily, but something felt wrong. They sat up and pulled the arrow from their side. “Gabs, why'd you do that? Fuck, we need to apply pressure to-“ You were interrupted when Gabbro swung the arrow at you, missing you by a long shot. “Gabby?” You fell back, moving away from Gabbro, who continued to shout and swing the arrow. “Gabbro, stop! It’s me!” You begged, hoping they’d understand. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, whatever hallucination they were going through was occupying all the space in their mind. “Shut up, Marina! I won’t let you hurt them!” You glanced over at Marina’s lifeless body. “Gabbro, Marina’s dead! She can’t hurt us, please just look at me!”

Their wound continued to expel blood, and you could tell it was starting to take a toll on them. But they jumped on you, thoroughly convinced that you were Marina. “Don’t you feel bad at all? Those people had families, Marina!” “Gabby!” You made one last attempt to call for them, your voice cracked and tears wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks. Something unidentifiable flashed in their eyes, and you sat up, bracing yourself. For the pain that never came, you opened your eyes and Gabbro had driven the arrow directly into their chest. “Gabs?” You said their name softly, catching them when they fell over. You shouted their name while cradling their face in your hand, a far away look painted their features.

The last cannon boomed and your screams rang throughout the arena.

It all happened so fast, you were pulled out of the arena and immediately sent to a hospital. You let the doctors and nurses do their jobs, while you sat, the image of Gabbro’s lifeless body wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t even have a moment to process before you were thrown into life as a victor, the parties and the interviews did nothing to rid your hands of the blood they’ve shed. Your parents didn’t notice the change in your demeanor, or if they did they chose not to acknowledge it. They congratulated you, praising you for the people you had murdered, for the kids you murdered.

Suddenly the comfort you found in the capitol was nonexistent, you found yourself flinching at any form of physical contact, even from your parents. You’d believed that the people in the districts were equals, but you were nothing more than their entertainment. When you moved into your house in Victors Village, it felt much colder than you were used to. Although your parents gave you a false sense of comfort, anything was better than nothing. And nothing is what you were given when you begun your victory tour, crowds of shallow capitolites congratulated you, showering you in praise for your game. You had to swallow back any tears while you read your scripted speeches, your eyes kept drifting to the families of the fallen tributes. Your own district was one of the hardest, Gabbro’s family had stood on a pedestal across from you. Their eyes were filled with so many emotions, the most identifiable being rage, and you couldn’t blame them. No one understood why you could live the rest of your life while their kids, their babies had died in the arena. But they didn’t know that you wished you had died with them.

You were dreading the visit to District 4, while you stood on the stage to read your small sheet of paper, people began talking. A couple of people, you’re assuming were the parents of Caspian and Marina respectively, threw things at you. Small stones, sticks, really anything they could grab. A sharper rock managed to nick your cheek, and you watched them all get apprehended while a swarm of peacekeepers made their way through the crowd, you spotted a familiar sandy blonde while you were being escorted away. Once again that nauseating feeling had returned.

The rest of the districts were fairly uneventful in comparison, but the hatred and melancholy followed no matter where you went. The tour had finally ended with a huge party in the heart of the capitol, you had tried your best to avoid going, but Granite insisted that you were the star and President Snow would be disappointed to have the party without you. You tried one last time to refuse and found a white rose on your doorstep, attached to it was a small envelope that reeked of rose perfume. You opened it and to your horror was an earring you knew belonged to your mother, you weren’t dumb, you knew that was a threat.

Which led you to this lavish party, swirling a glass of god knows what. You internally thanked your stylist for keeping your outfit relatively simple, though you did almost trip over the skirt on your way up the stairs and the button-up seemed to be buttoned far too high, it was better than the outfits made entirely out of ruffles of fabric. You decide you’d had enough spinning your drink and go to take a sip, “I wouldn’t if I were you.” You jumped, despite the outfit you’re sure you’d be able to take anyone in a fight right now. “Woah, sweetheart, it’s just me.” Finnick put his hands up in surrender, “See? No weapons, you’re a little on edge, you alright?” His voice held something you couldn’t quite pick apart, but in the moment you didn’t want to. He picked up a small vine of grapes, and looked at you expectantly. This man was a fellow victor, he had mentored the people who killed Gabbro and although it wasn’t inherently his fault, you needed someone to blame. “Don’t touch me, Odair.” His smile seemed to widen and he took the drink from your hands, pouring it on the ground. He gave the empty glass to a passing waiter with a polite nod. “What the fuck was that for?” You were seething and you wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smile off of his face. He tossed a grape up and caught it in his mouth. “It’s meant to make you throw up so you can continue eating, but if you want to be just like these capitolites you’re more than welcome to grab another glass.”

Although that sounded less than ideal you didn’t want Finnick Odair of all people to tell you not to do it. You sneered at him, “Thanks for the advice, darling, but I can take care of myself just fine.” His smile didn’t waver and he tossed another grape into his mouth. “Oh I know, I saw.” He saw? Of course he did, he’s a mentor, he’d be watching for his tributes. You felt the festering anger begin to rise, the anger at everyone who was watching the games, the people who were supporting it, and most of all President Snow himself. “If you know then, don’t come near me again, or else the next glass is hitting your skull.” You decided you didn't want to hear what he’d say next, and walked away. You saw a look of disappointment fall on his countenance, but you didn’t stay long enough to pick that apart. You don’t understand how he can be so okay with training other people, kids like him to kill other people. And honestly, you didn’t want to understand, all you knew was that you wanted out of these clothes. Hell, out of the capitol, and away from all of the disgusting people that inhabit it. Unfortunately, you don’t always get what you want, that much was evident when you arrived home to a path of white roses and a sickeningly sweet smell leading into your home.

I’m completely open to any criticism! But also please understand this is the first long fanfic idea I’ve ever had and executed, so be gentle 😭😭😭. Enjoy the fic! I have some big plans for this one and I hope you’ll stick around to read em!