#finnick x capitol!reader

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Just to kiss me (part 1)

Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part 2, The Hunger Games masterlist

summary: You meet Finnick at a gala. He’s not what you expect.

warnings: none. Capitol!reader (this is not mindless hedonism, important to the plot), smoking (don't smoke kids, it's bad for you), reader is a year younger than Finnick, who is 21 here. 

a/n: wanted to see how many times I could break u guys into little tiny pieces. Part 1 to this series <3

required reading:

Wc: 2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Depollute me, pretty baby,

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Under the chandeliers of the Great Hall, Finnick Odair is the sun.

Glittering as he waltzes between crowds of people; he is the centre of all attention. The flash of a smile there, a soft chuckle here, and it's enough to have the room hanging onto every word. He is honeysuckle and saccharine; stunning in his gilded suit; and it is all you can do to not stare.

You linger by the desserts table, in search of something edible. Piles of sickly sweet, oddly coloured food and yet none look like they wouldn't stab your throat on the way in. An ironic statement considering the company. Panem's most beautiful and wealthy all in one room; daggers behind their backs and expensive smiles. But you knew how it looked: the child of a senator refusing to make nice with the locals at her first gala. Half a dozen political players, actors, and the like had clawed over themselves to make a good impression with your mother - her vice-like grip around your arm. And every single one disappointed by the bumbling proctor she had thrown in her stead. You, dressed in a beautiful gown -  the latest in Cinna's collection - mimicking human interaction. None had the decency to even pretend to be interested. 

Growing tired of awkward, stumbling conversation, you had resorted to hiding; in the corner of the hall, with the half-eaten cakes, where the workers came to gossip. Conversation with twice as much substance than the rest of the room. That's when you see him. 

Finnick arrives late - of course he does - at  a lull in the night. From your vantage point, you see it all: elbows and whispers and manicured fingers dissecting his every move. When he shakes hands with a famous actress, the room erupts with: 'I wonder if they're dating? He's much too good for her…'. When he claps a hand on the back of a senator, good naturedly, they wonder: 'His ex? Have they made peace since the nasty breakup?'. 

He was an enigma, and to say you weren't intrigued was wrong. You were not strong enough to resist the media frenzy surrounding Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th annual games: handsome with his cropped sandy hair, high cheekbones and boyish vigor, despite it all. 7 years ago, he had captured the nation with his beauty, and grace. 7 years ago, you had watched not much younger than him, queasy at the sight. Your disdain for the games had started with him, you had to admit begrudgingly: how could someone so beautiful be forced into doing such ugly things? At fourteen? And how could the nation watch in awe? 

You are brought back into the room by a sharp elbow at the ribs. A friend of yours; expectantly folds her arms in front of you. 

"You're staring." she says, with a toothy grin. "You said you were immune, and now you're staring…"

You roll your eyes at Vonnie, quick to stuff a prickly treat into your mouth. Quickly, you flash pink tongue at her. "He's so shiny it's practically blinding. Hard to ignore."

She tries not to laugh, reserved when a group of socialites walk past. As soon as they leave, she splutters, "They seem to be ignoring you quite easily…"

Yeah, no shit. The older girl taps her fingers on the table, nervously, like she had something to say. She's dressed in an explosion of fabric: pink and purple and patterned, with a dusting of gold. Her hair is similarly styled, haphazard but regal. On you, you know it would look a mess; but on her, she looks like the models on the cover of Panem Weekly - leggy and striking and beautiful. You sigh into more desserts. They melt almost immediately; a trace of sugar and daydreams on your tongue. 

"....do you think your mother would introduce us?" 

Your eyes grow wide. "No… no…Vonnie, I will not make a fool of myself in front of Finnick Odair-" 

"...but she would introduce us? Right? Right?" 

Opening your mouth in protest, she's too quick for you; hooking her arm into yours and leading (dragging) you into the crowd. She flashes her stunning smile every now and then, throwing polite greetings like grenades with complete accuracy. You're at your mother's feet in no time at all. 

A tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. That's all she affords you before throwing you to the wolves. "-ah. Just the person I was looking for. Tell Minister Tragus about that outreach program you've been working on…" 

An expectant beat passes, and then another. And another. Vonnie cuts in. "W-well we've been swamped in paperwork as of late trying to get it off the ground! But, Senator, your daughter has been absolutely amazing, never a day off, and poring over the legislature for a gap in the system. She reminds me of you, in that way," she looks at you warmly, and you squeeze her arm with thanks. "-oh, my name is Vonnie Dulaire, Professor-"

"Professor Dulaire's daughter. Or at least, one of them." your mother finishes dryly. She looks around seemingly preoccupied, looking for someone. Not 50m from where you all stand, she catches the eye of a man, who waves. "If you'll excuse me," She bows out, with a nod. 

Hot on her heels, You and Vonnie follow. She stops momentarily, squinting accusingly at you. "You want something."

You stop to protest, but Vonnie interrupts. "Not want per se, but, uh, we were w-wondering if you had met Finnick… Mr Odair! And if you could… introduce us?" A quick nod behind her, and you try to back her up. 

Her face is contorted, with a slight twitch at her eyebrow that tells you she's pissed, and you would get an earful when you got home. That smile again. The one she reserves for the cameras, that doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's tight-lipped and leads you towards the man that waved to her not long ago. 

He's plump and jovial, with a handlebar mustache that curls up to the apples of his cheeks. Introducing himself as Finnick's manager, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and it's clammy with sweat. Vonnie is more outwardly enthusiastic, chattering about Finnick's most recent interview, and complimenting his style. She's good at making people feel at ease; conversation flowing like Panem’s finest ambrosia. 

Your mother is curt when she steps away. She grabs your arm, squeezing cruelly. Imperceptibly, she breathes, "This is your chance to make a good impression. How many times must I tell you, this is a part of the job: you go the events, you suck up, you make appearances. Vonnie, the ditz, for God's sake is showing you up!" She pauses to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. From behind her flute, she continues.

"Everything I have done is for you. So you are not chained to a life with a husband you don't love and dithering children pawing at your skirt 24/7. Politics or no, you must play the game, my love-"

"I need some air." Your voice crackles. You don't look her in the eye as you walk away.

~~~

Away from the swirling lights, music and bustle, the night air is cool on your skin. You're on a balcony, tucked away from the gala, leaning over the edge with a small packed pipe in hand. It's the one thing about the ballgown you were grateful for; it's size made it easy to hide things in the tulle or the waistband. In your case, a beat up old pipe and lighter. You take a drag; and float on the moonlight that streams in. 

20 minutes go by and you're still not ready to go back in. 

The double doors open, to a man dressed in gold with his head in his hands. He slumps over the crowned railing and breathes in and out; erratic and shallow. Gentle sobs, barely audible. From this angle, he can't see you in the shadow by the balcony's side, but you can see him. Finnick Odair; in the gloom of the night. Not a god, not the sun. Just a man. 

The realisation of who he is makes you jump, and your lighter falls with a clatter. The man looks around just as startled. You fall to your knees, patting around for your lighter in the dark. Finnick does the same, crouching at your feet to help you find it. Ah! There, by your pooling dress, a gaudy thing of gold and pearl. He hands it you, your fingers brush and… you're embarrassed. When he stands up, he motions for you to grab his arm; ever the gentleman. 

Finnick gives you that smile; stunning and mischievous; but there's something about it that makes your heart sink. You'd know it from anywhere: the stony sheen of rehearsal, of strain - his body language completely different from a few seconds before. He stands straighter, with purpose, but it rings hollow. His eyes are still stinging from crying. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

Wordlessly, you offer him a pull from your pipe. He cracks slightly, smile falling, and nods. He's shaking, you notice, as he brings his plump lips to the tip of the pipe, and takes a slow drag. Almost immediately, he doubles over coughing, a palm steady on the railing. 

"D-don't… cough… laugh...coughcough…!".

"Is this your first time?" You can't help but giggle. 

"No…. Y-yes." He's laughing too now. A genuine, belly-filled laugh. 

"Look at what I do." You model a proper pull, breathing in with your chest, holding the smoke there and expelling. You tap at your breastbone. "You should feel it here. Now you try."

You hand it over, and he tries again. This time he only splutters. Not perfect, but better than last time. "You'll get the hang of it."  

In the silence that follows, he does, taking careful drags as you pass the pipe around. It's nice to have some quiet after the overstimulation of the gala. You feel like a teenager again; sneaking out to smoke with Vonnie, but with less of the mindless chatter. When you finish, you expect him to leave. After all, it's what you'd do. Leave and refuse to acknowledge the 5 minutes of peace on the balcony. To draw a line between himself and the random girl he's met by chance. 

But he doesn't. For some reason, he lingers, stealing a glance at you momentarily. Finally, he chews his lip and asks. 

"Why are you out here?" 

"Didn't realise you had a claim to this balcony. Have you marked your territory here or…?" You respond without missing a beat, purposefully staring down at the garden below. 

"You know that's not what I meant. I haven't seen you before, and here you are-" He chuckles. "-on my balcony."

"How do you know?" You meet his eyes; firm, resolute. 

"Hmm?" 

"How do you know you haven't met me before? Maybe I bumped into you on the ballroom floor, or at the buffet?" 

"I remember everyone at these things. It's always the same. Trust me, if we'd met, I would remember you."

"There's always a million people here…"

"And I remember them all." He breathes, a little wistfully. You didn't realise someone so young could even be wistful. 

"That must suck. Every nosy reporter and suck-up? Every politician and creepy little shit-stirrer?" Oh. She's funny, he thinks. And not funny in the tight-lipped, fill-the-silence-with-small-talk way. Unabashedly, genuinely, funny. 

"Yes. Every creepy little shit-stirrer." He repeats. Your words taste different in his tongue. Good different. "Thought I'd already met all the spoilt little rich girls, though." 

You feign shock, and clutch the necklace at your chest. "You wound me, you really do."

Conversation is effortless with him, lazy in the haze of moonlight that wraps around you both. Shamefully, you didn't think he would be all that smart; too beautiful to have a use for sharp wit and humor. Perhaps the talk shows and television were rotting your brain; he was wonderfully perceptive and you almost struggled to keep up with his pace. Almost. 

And so you talked. About anything and everything. What he had for breakfast, the newest music, the weather, the hidden intricacies of capitol life. All the while, tiptoeing around the reality of the situation: that he was the Finnick Odair, perhaps the most sought after man in all of Panem. That he came here to cry on a balcony - clearly, running away from something. To be fair to the man, you wouldn't think it; he was humble and gracious, laughing with a serf like you easily. Fleetingly, you forget yourself, only reminded when the willowy light cut his face just so; handsome, beautiful; and you were blinded by the sun. 

You talk until your throat aches and your legs are sore. Behind you, the gala winds down. Again, Finnick seems reluctant to leave, to break the spell you are both under. A normal conversation. A weight off his shoulders; if only for a moment. A natural lull in conversation, and you're skittish, suddenly aware of the time.

"I should go." You say softly. 

"I should too, suppose." He looks a little sad, resigned to a small smile. 

"Good luck." You nod and walk towards the door. He stops you, clasping a hand in yours. You're looking at each other, and all you can feel is his palm in yours. It's a little rougher than expected, and warm, dwarfing yours. The feeling tethers you to him. 

"Good luck." He nods, squeezing your hand. He is doe-eyed and gorgeous in the widowed light. Stepping closer, he opens the door. Finnick Odair lets go and clicks down the hallway, leaving you with a pain in your chest and that feeling on your palm. He flexes his hand as he walks away. 

He doesn't look back.

_

_

_

[murdrdocs]

ok but consider… sex pollen in the quarter quell with finnick… fuck or die in the quarter quell with finnick… is this anything

this is something yes yes

it's tricky because for at least a second there, finnick really considers the die option. he's being selfish even though he's trying to be selfless. he's so in his head, trying desperately to keep anything intimate concerning you out of the capitol's reach. but his hand has been forced and there's no other option here.

you're staring at finnick with wide teary eyes, sweat beading down your forehead, falling off of your furrowed brows. finnick didn't realize he'd zoned out until he tunes back in to you begging him for mercy. begging him for help.

he ends up hovered over you, trying his best to keep you covered from any covert cameras. his forearm resting over your head, his body shielding yours while his hand is between your thighs. this suit design doesn't allow for much coverage since finnick had to basically undress you just to get access to your cunt. he's told you to cover your chest, practically pleaded that you do this one thing for him, but you're so far gone that finnick had to resort to pressing your chest against his. you got more of it than he did and it's showing in the alert blinks and flicker of your eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the audible squelching of your cunt.

if the circumstances were different, he would've reveled in this. he would've lost his mind over how wet you are. but this wasn't done naturally. none of this was natural. finnick's movements aren't natural, either.

he wants to please you with passion from deep inside of him. instead, he gets you off as if it's a chore. flicking his fingers just right, reaching part of you that he knows will excite you, doing his best to get you off as fast as possible so you can continue surviving. so you can continue your mission.

he's not even thinking about himself, not until you arch your back, pushing your pelvis out and finnick's hand goes with it. the back of his hand brushes the boner confined in his suit, and suddenly finnick is awake.

he's gotten it too, if he doesn't get himself off, he could die, leaving you all alone to figure this out. he only has one option here.

[taytrashmouth]

hello lovely!! would u consider writing a peeta x reader, where ur both in the quarter quell, but reader is separated from peeta from the start and goes through mutt attacks/blood rain/jabberjays by herself and when peeta and the group find her on the beach she is injured and traumatised. hurt/comfort, where he looks after her afterwards and comforts her, washes her in the water and stuff? loooads of gentle comfort and fluff. sorry for my bad english!!

Okay I am absolutely obsessed with this request!!!! Omg can’t wait for you to read this!!! Ahhhh! Okay okay I hope you love it 😊

Peeta x reader

(Catching fire)

Requests are open so don’t forget to send them in!!!! Prompts under my profile!

:readmore:

When you woke up the morning of the games in Peetas arms you somehow felt safe. It was like you weren’t being sent to die that day. He kissed your head and told you he’d be by your side.

You had dreamt about the last games, how you were separated and the only reason you survived was because he became allies with those horrible kids from 1 & 2

When you eventually found each other, all you did was help Peeta get better, applied the ointment and comforted him. He did all the killing, he saved you.

You only survived the first half by dumb luck, that spear was supposed to hit you…not Rue. If only you hadn’t moved out the way.

The whole lovers idea was Peetas too, only it was true. Deep down you both knew you’d liked each other since kindergarten back in 12

But here you were in the little glass tube that sucked you straight into hell. You felt sick but you really wanted to throw up when you couldn’t see Peeta.

“Peeta!” You screamed as the countdown started. Sweating and getting panicked. You couldn’t do this again, not without him. You had a deal: stay together.

The games had begun. You needed a weapon. You jumped off the platform into the water swimming for the weapons.

Once you found your feet at the cornucopia, you began to hear screams and watched people start to fall. You grabbed a machete and ran for the jungle on one of the thin arms of rock.

“Peeta!” You screamed from the beach. But no answer. That was when a knife flew past your head and missed by an inch.

You couldn’t kill somebody. So you ran.

You shoved past trees and vines running deep into the jungle.

You found a spot hollowed out under a tree. It was hot- and you needed water.

That was when you heard his voice. Peeta.

You screamed for him as you ran towards the sound.

“Help n/n!” He yelled.

“Where are you!?” You frantically turned around. “Peeta?”

That was until his voice became overwhelming. Your ears started to ring. His cried for help, his screams.

You began to cry, realising this was some cruel trick of the capitol. “STOP IT!” You yelled, throat raw. You screamed as loud as you could covering your ears to get it to stop but it didn’t help. It was overwhelming. You tried to run but a forcefield locked you in. You screamed and banged on it but nothing worked.

You grabbed your machete and banged at the field but it just ricocheted.

You sunk to the floor, covering your ears and cried. You were there for what felt like a decade but was probably only an hour.

When his cries suddenly stopped you felt a strange sense of sadness. The screaming had been awful but you were worried about him. What if he was dead.

You began to walk deeper into the jungle, sweating and with tear stained cheeks. You had never been so thirsty before, after screaming so loudly in what felt like 100 degree heat.

As desperate as you were you stumbled across a little pool of water. You smiled dryly and lay on the floor, drinking out of the pool. A sigh escaped your mouth as you quenched your thirst. You splashed your face. And sat up leaning against a nearby tree.

This is where you would sleep. You gathered sticks and placed them in a circle around the area, to ensure that if someone walked by you would hear them.

The music began to play, you looked up at the sky, holding your pin. Praying you wouldn’t see Peetas face. You didn’t. Relief washed over you as the final canon went off.

You barely slept when you felt a warm air hitting your face, as your eyes opened you were greeted with a large mutt, two inches from your face.

You took a shocked, shaky breath in and slowly reached for your machete. It belted a loud noise sending a signal to the rest of his friends.

You closed your eyes as you wedged the sharp end of your blade into the mutt in-front of you.

You pulled the machete out of its body and stood up. Swinging at any that got a little to close. Just as one of the beasts began to jump at you, you decided the best option was to throw the machete and run.

As the mutt jumped and you released your blade, the woman from 6 who had been hiding in the trees tried to save you. And the machete hit her instead. A scream escaped your lips. You had killed someone.

You covered your mouth with your hands, shaky breaths escaping your lips. “No!” You sobbed.

You bent down to try help her, applying pressure to the wound. “I’m sorry.” You cried as she became limp.

You held her to your chest in the hopes it would cause a miracle.

Soon you noticed the mutts had began to run as a white smoked reached the edge of the water, you stood up, knowing something was coming.

One of their claws ripped the back of your calf open as it ran away. “Shit!” You fell into the smoke, immediately screaming and running.

The sun had started to rise, and you were limping with an excruciating pain in your arms and legs with growing boils from the poison.

You screamed as you ran not caring about attracting other tributes. The sun has begun to rise, and you were now an easy target.

You ran through the jungle searching desperately for the beach but it was so overgrown you had no way of knowing.

You stopped in a small clearing. Crying and sitting in the dirt. Desperately wanting to rid yourself of the boils.

After a while of crying A cool liquid hit your face. Rain. You looked up at the sky, hoping the water would help your sores. Opening your mouth to quench your thirst.

It was definitely not water. You gagged. Spitting onto the dirt. Blood.

You sobbed and ran wherever you could and tripped over a log of wood. Tumbling onto the sand of the beach. 

You screamed and cried. Not knowing what to do. You hated the capitol. You hated that you didn’t know where Peeta was. You hated this. You hated that you had to die.

Just then you heard voices. You put a hand over your mouth trying to quiet your whimpers.

Tears running down your face. You couldn’t run anymore. This was it.

You shuffled back, trying to find and escape route but there wasn’t one.

You got on all fours and crawled on the sand, dragging your leg with a gash in it in the sand.

You let out chokes of pain and self pity as they grew closer, you refused to look.

“N/n!” You heard him…peeta. “Oh my god it’s y/n!!!”

You screamed and covered your ears lying in the sand. You would rather die than listen to the jabberjays again. Until someone rolled you onto your back and you were met with Peeta.

He looked so scared for you. You immediately started to cry as he hugged you tightly to his chest. “You weren’t real.” You sobbed into his chest, feeling his hair, his back, anything to make sure he was there.

“I’m real now. I’m here now.” He kissed your forehead and held you again. Until you hissed when he touched your boils.

“Oh shit! I had them too see-“ he showed you the faint scars on his hands.

“I need to get freshwater.” He began to get up but you held onto his hand. “Don’t leave” you whispered.

He stared at you for a moment too long, his eyes laced with concern.

“Finnick! I need water.” Peeta yelled at the group that was a safe distance away.

While you waited, Peeta brushed hair out of your eyes that was covered in blood and sand, just like the rest of you and you squeezed his arm in pain.

“It’s okay.” He kept repeating. Kissing your head despite your state.

When finnick returned Peeta poured water all over your boils and you screamed in pain as they vanished.

“Thank you.” You smiled sadly. Overwhelmed. Peeta often said you were a kind sole, you wouldn’t hurt a fly at home, literally. You sang songs and picked flowers. You weren’t meant for this. Nobody was really….

“Come on, let’s wash you off…if at least half this blood is yours, we’re in serious trouble.” He joked and you attempted to laugh. He picked you up bridal style.

You would argue that you could do it yourself but it just wasn’t true.

He dipped you into the salt water. You hissed in pain, clutching his wetsuit.

“I know it stings. I’m sorry.” He rubbed your arm but kept you underwater.

“It okay. Thank you.” You whispered again, almost scared something bad would happen like it had been. One after the other. Peeta cupped water into his hand and tilted your head back rinsing the blood out of your hair and carefully brushing through it with his fingers.

He washed you off, holding you with one had at all times. Afraid to let you go. He was careful around your cuts and scrapes.

“I killed her.” You let out, staring at nothing.

He stopped his movements and just helped you too his chest.

“Who?” He whispered.

“Six… she tried to save me and-“ you chocked on your tears.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay…I’m here. You don’t have to talk about it now.” He assured.

You were both wrinkly like the raisins Peeta used in his raisin bread back home by the time you got out the water.

You tried to walk but you could barely stand on your right foot.

“What happened?” Finnick asked before Peeta got the chance.

“Mutts.” You answered simply, trying to see the gash on the back of your calf.

You almost fell but Peeta caught you. He picked you up agin and placed you on the leaves they were using as beds in the sand tonight.

“Now we match.” Peeta smiled at you pulling up the leg of his wetsuit to reveal his prosthetic leg.

You laughed, for the first time in days.

The others were asleep while Peeta took the first watch. You sat in his lap, and wrapped your legs around his torso, like a koala.

Head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he leaned against a tree looking at the waves.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered, a tear running down his face. You sat up slightly to wipe it. “Me too.” You assured and squeezed his hand.

“So much for sticking together.” He half laughed.

“Yeah.” You looked at his brown eyes and played with his blonde fringe. He leaned in and Kissed you gently but passionately. Holding your cheek and pulling you in by your back. Carefully avoiding your right leg that was tediously bandaged with leaves and vines.

When you broke apart for air. You smiled softly at each other. Heart still heavy from the past two days.

“I love you n/n.” He spoke with only truth in his tone. It wasn’t just an act and you knew that.

“I love you too…so much.” You teared up thinking about how you were going to have to say goodbye soon.

You resumed your position on his chest and fell asleep to his hand rubbing your back and his whispers of “it’s okay.” And “I love you.”

[ama0310]

The President's Daughter

Character: Finnick Odair

Requested: No

Type: Angst/Fluff

Summary: Arianna Flemings-Snow, the adopted daughter of Coriolanus Snow, bravely volunteers for the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Yet, her courage comes at the cost of confronting not only the repercussions of re-entering the deadly arena but also the profound challenge of sharing it with the man she passionately loves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Finnick Odair, right?” 

Haymitch nods points towards the screen, “ Yes, he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He looked like the most narcissistic show off known to man. His stance. His waves. His stupid smirk. He looked as if he were happy to be returning. 

“Yes I’m kidding. He’s a...” Haymitch dramatically flips his hair” …peacock. A total preener but he’s the Capitol darling. They love him here. Charming , smart, and very skilled at combat—especially in water.”

Peta leans forward glancing at the screen, “What about weaknesses?” 

“Well two. First Mags.” A frail looking wrinkly woman pops on the screen. “ She volunteered for Annie. Mags was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.” 

Katniss stares at the screen seeing the women bravely volunteer for the young girl in hysterics, “A guy like that has to know she’s not going to make it. I bet when it really comes down to it, he won’t protect her. 

Sadness flashes through Haymitch’s eyes, “Well Katniss,  I just hope when she goes…she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.” 

The silence fills the room before Peta asks, “And his other weakness?” 

Haymitch lightly smirks before passing  to the next district when a beautiful girl with hair as white as snow comes up. “ District 5. Arianna Flemings. Mostly known as...”

“President Snow’s daughter?” Katniss snaps her head to Haymitch. Eyes widened. 

He tilts his head a bit. “Adopted. She won her games at fifteen. Everyone and I mean everyone fell in love with her. She was the purest of the pure. The cutest of the cute. And the most dangerous of the danger. After one of the tributes killed her district partner all hell broke loose and she murdered the last seven remaining tributes within two hours with one. singular. knife.”

Peta shook his head in disbelief, “If he adopted her then that means he has to have some sort of heart. And he’s letting her go back to the games?” 

Haymitch holds out his hand signaling for the kid to stop talking, “Well, there were rumors about Snow not really adding Arianna’s name into the reaping; however, when her childhood friend was reaped she immediately volunteered. Flabbergasted everyone.” The video shows Arianna immediately protesting and volunteering the moment her friend’s name dropped. The horror on everyone’s face was telling how much the district loved her. 

He cleared his throat and continued, “ I imagined Snow wasn't really happy about that. That’s what he gets for adopting a victor when he’s the leader of these games." He shrugs. "Arianna is very captivating. Even Snow’s heart had to have melt for that young girl. Took her right under his wing. Obviously she was treated like a victor but most importantly she was treated like a Capitol.” 

“If his daughter is that important wouldn’t he know that during the games people will be targeting his daughter. Who wouldn’t if his daughter means that much to him.” 

That’s when Haymtich shook his head, “ Because my dear little Katniss… A) he calls the shots. If you haven’t realized everything in the games are controlled by him and people that love her. He’ll be hovering over you all the entire time. B) She’s a skilled competitor. Again seven tributes dead in two hours by the hands of a 110 pound fifteen year old, hello people keep up. Since then she’s never eased on her training. Obviously she’s bound to have enemies because of her father so she never stopped. Really good using her resources, excellent with knives, basically insanely dangerous. C) Finnick Odair. Both basically spent the last nine years together. Everyone thinks they’re together, but are keeping it hidden because of her father. I’m sure the President feels a lot better having Finnick with her knowing that he would risk his entire life for her. However don’t think it’ll make it easy to kill them. While you two are faking it. They—“ He points to the screen. “Are real. You hurt her and not only will you have Snow on your asses, but a trident in your chest. You hurt him and you’d have knives shoved up every hole in your body. They’re each other’s weaknesses but also strengths. They are who you want to be allies with. I’m serious Katniss don’t mess this up.” 

~~~~~~~

Arianna couldn’t breathe in her dress. It’s not that it’s too tight (which it actually is), but more-so that she’s again back to where she was those many years ago. 

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe” She lightly whispers under her breath while entering to where all the other Victors were.  She was wearing a beautiful white gown with red lace at the top. Her red make-up contrasting her snow-white features. 

“Isn’t it Snow’s precious girl. Miss Flemings never thought I would have to see you back in the games.” She turns around and sees Gloss from Tribute 1. 

“You and me both. Don’t you look as charming as ever.” She smiles graciously wrapping her arms around her friend. “Where’s Cash?” 

He smiles and points behind him, “Getting the gang back together. Should we be expecting you to join us?” 

Her eyes immediately try to find the one person she truly wanted to ally with. “Gloss I would love to, but I have to check with Finnick. You know wherever he goes I go.”

He nods understanding completely, “And I admire your loyalty. Please try to get him on our side. We really don’t want to have to go against either of you.” 

She nods smiling softly at the man, “Speaking of Finnick do you know where he might be. He wasn’t with Mags.” 

The guy pointed behind her making her turn, “I guess he’s already trying to get the Girl on Fire on his side…without telling you?” 

Arianna lightly hit him, “Glossy I love you, but I hope you weren’t trying to turn me against Finnick. Like you said before I am extremely loyal.” 

He chuckles before backing away, “ Didn’t hurt to try. Now go to lover boy, but please remember what I said.” 

She watches him go back to the Career pack and lightly waves at them before heading towards the duo. 

“Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?” If only she knew the truth. 

She sees him lean forward, making the Girl on Fire look uncomfortable  “With secrets” 

Arianna thought it was the perfect time to break the tension especially since she wanted to talk to the golden boy before they had to parade themselves. “Nicky, we went over this so many times, you should never try to get with an engaged woman. Very inappropriate.” She wraps her arm his waist looking up at him. His smirk turned into a genuine smile. 

He immediately looked down at the young girl smirking, “Arianna, you know I’d never try to get with anyone else but you.” 

She lightly smacks his chest before looking over the girl staring curiously at the duo, “ Arianna Flemings.” She sticks her hand out smiling as Katniss took it. “ My niece absolutely loves you. She always wanted to meet you, my father never really introduced us, but you know how he is. You look absolutely beautiful by the way.”  

Katniss couldn’t help but like the girl in front of her. Though the fact that she is someone that Snow cares about keeps nagging at her, the girl alone seems genuine. “I’m Katniss. I saw your games. Very impressive.” Her curt response made Arianna look at Finnick then back at the girl.

“Thank you and your game was also very impressive.” She smiles and then turns her attention to the man next to her. “Nicky, can I talk to you over there please?” 

His gaze went to his angel and then to the girl who’s staring at them, “I’ll be there in a second need to wrap up my introduction to the Girl on Fire.” 

Arianna rolled her eyes playfully before turning to Katniss, “It was really nice to meet you.”

The two stared as Arianna glides away elegantly. Finnick leans towards the girl with a smile, “She is off limits. You hurt her and I’ll gladly pay back the favor with your fiancé while you watch and die an agonizing death. Got that? ” Before she can answer he backs away going to find his girl. 

He finally sees her talking to her district partner and then shoos him away. "Nicky? Did you really had to use that name? "

Her gaze filled with mischief yet care had him wrapped around her finger, "There's Nick, Nickey, Finnley, Finnerson, Fin-"

"Okay we get it, but there's only one name I like hearing you call me." He leans closer.

"Mon amour" She smirks before lightly pushing him back. "That's only reserved when we aren't about to dive head first into our deaths."

His smile drops, " You are not dying. Snow will not allow it and neither will I."

She caresses his face, "Finnick these are how the games are. Though my father cares for me he wants to destroy the girl even more."

He lightly glares at the girl, gripping her waist a bit tighter. " Why did you have to volunteer dammit. Everything was going to be fine, but you just had to volunteer. Why on earth did you even do that?"

She glances around noticing that people are getting on their carriage to start the parade. " I had to, love. But it's okay. I promise you, it will be okay."

The sincerity in her eyes truly made him believe it was all going to be fine even though his heart knew it wasn't.

They finally break eye contact when her partner tells her that the parade is about to start. "Better get on your carriage Snow White looks like Prince Charming needs you."

She kisses him on the cheek, "I'm not into Princes, I prefer fishermen" winking and getting on her carriage.

They both know that no matter what happens in the ring. Capitol be dam. Districts be dam. Both their goal is to protect one another no matter what the cost is.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: swearing, major mentions of death and violence, spoilers, death of children, mental illness, mentions of previous torture. 

a/n: with the hunger games resurgance, I want to continue writing for these characters. I absolutely loved this series so much, it was an innate part of my teenage years. 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

🌿ESTP 🍁Slytherin 📜Chaotic Neutral 🔮Scorpio Sun, Aries Moon, Aries Rising  

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:    

Dance Me To The End Of Love by The Civil Wars (they featured on the song with Taylor Swift in the first movie)

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・You were never reaped, and never knew the personal/immediate experience of having to kill someone. However, your oldest brother was in the Hunger Games, a few years after Johanna. So, you knew the pain of losing a loved one. 

・Helping each other transition into a world where the Hunger Games no longer exists

・In a world where the Capitol doesn’t rule with an iron fist 

・After the events of Coin’s death, Katniss and Peeta go to district 12 to live out their days in peace

・Johanna still plagued by the torture and trauma she endured, didn’t know what to do. 

・No family, no friends, so she hid herself in the apartment that Commander Paylor gave to her (all living victors were given an apartment. But the catch was that they had to go through therapy)

・Johanna refused to go to the appointments. She was adamant that it was stupid, it wouldn’t help. 

・And she drowned in her own sadness 

・It took her 3 months to begrudgingly go to an appointment

・It was a group therapy session. Katniss and Peeta weren’t there as they lived in District 12 and didn’t live off of Paylor’s generosity

・It was a small group, and when Johanna looked around at the other victors, she saw herself. Hurt. Broken...the feeling of something that was taken and they could never get it back

・You were apart of the healers. Not a therapist, but a protegee underneath Ms Everdeen - yes, Katniss’ mother

・She shined in the Capitol; given the best treatment for everything she suffered 

・And you were lucky enough to be her assistant. 

・Learning the art of healing wasn’t easy

・But the opportunity was too good to let pass by 

・Ms Everdeen was a quiet woman, but when she taught, there was a light that began to shine. With each comment, lesson, tutorial and experience - she began to glow and glow. 

・But you soon learnt that bringing up either of her daughters was... bad. Her light dimmed whenever their names were mentioned; even talking about the plants was difficult for her. 

・She loved Prim, her youngest who looked like her. Who never judged her, only had love in her heart for everyone. Katniss was so distant, it felt like a death

・Johanna felt safe with Ms Everdeen. It was an interesting dynamic. She somewhat... stepped into a maternal role for the young victor. A role that Johanna desperately wanted filled but would never admit

・That’s how you met Johanna; in all her hardened exterior. Someone unloved but not unlovable. 

・Your relationship started off very clumsily; she saw you as another therapist - therefore an enemy. 

・You didn’t take much of a liking to her either 

・It was a conscious effort to be curteous 

・And Ms Everdeen pushed you toward Johanna

・Call it a mother’s intuition 

・And that intuition spurred a tight friendship. Johanna eased into your company (not without a fight) 

・You showed her moments into your world and in response, she displayed glimpses into her own

・And then you formed a tight bond. Best friends. Always doing things together, eating, spending all your free time with her

・You even inspired her to go to the therapy appointments 

・And although there were a few hiccups along the way, Johanna started to heal

・From then on she wanted to know what this new world had to offer

・ You both explored what the new Panem was, how Paylor had changed the old ways into something new. A united nation, where everyone reaped the benefits of food, shelter and safety. 

・There were no games after the rebellion. Paylor made sure of that:

   “We didn’t let people sacrifice their lives for a world where we go on sacrificing. We are one now. Panem will never be the same.” 

・Now with a new sense of freedom, you saw a change in Johanna. You knew what it was - hope

・This newfound hope made Johanna realise that ... she could do whatever she wanted. There wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t. She had survived. 

・The very next hour, she had walked right up to you and kissed you fiercely 

・It wasn’t the best place to snog; right in front of Ms Everdeen, but when you pulled apart you glimpsed over at her and saw her smile 

・Being with Johanna is like the like winter. Having a fire to keep yourself warm is cosy but when it gets out of hand - it will leave you with nothing but ashes. 

・You moved in together, a three bedroom apartment that wasn’t too far from Ms Everdeen’s place. You both felt too guilty leaving her.

・Once there was a time that you invited Peeta and Katniss to come and stay, but Peeta wrote back that Katniss wasn’t ready. 

・As a partner, Johanna is hot-headed but also playful and teasing

・She loves ruffling your feathers (never too much though, she never wants to push you away)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔  

Complete And Utter Badass, Rather Monstrous (Johanna) x Their Ray Of Light Who Has Them Wrapped Around Their Finger (You)

Confident & Flirty (Johanna) x Has Never Been Flirted With Before, Thinks They're Just Being Nice (You)

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆  

You Make Me Want To Be A Better Person

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖

At first it was your last name. She would say it with such coldness, and unkindness. A forced tone that she used. On the outside she hated you, and yet on the inside... she had a burning passion for you. Through the progression of your relationship, you could tell how she felt about you with how she said your last name. 

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

Acts of Service and Quality Time. 

Johanna hates all that sappy lovey-dovey talk, and she’s still healing with the aspect of physical touch. So the way she shows her affection is through doing things for you and spending time with you. And then she starts to do those little signs of affection; kisses on the cheek, moving hair out of your face, wiping any food from your mouth etc. PDA is pretty much a no no. But when someone tries ANYTHING with you, then she will kiss you so hard, showing that you’re hers. She’s very protective ... well possessive, over you. 

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・The first few times you had sex with Johanna, it was angry sex. The kind where you barely kiss each other, and the headboard is banging, and it doesn’t last too long. Then afterwards it’s not spoken about

・It was difficult, in all honesty. Because you felt used

・But Johanna was trying to hide a part of herself. A deeper part that she’s hidden behind a wall of imenetrable steel. A wall only she can knock down. 

・So it took time - 

・But in that time, you expressed your discomfort at the lack of a deeper connection

・And your relationship was put on hold for a bit until Johanna could open up to you. 

・Your relationship progression made sex more and more softer, intimate, slower. 

・She wasn’t so rough

・And you realised she would barely kiss you during sex. But now, with her walls down, she couldn’t stop kissing you 

・Johanna’s lips were warm, but still with an edge of savagery. Nips here and there, she loves leaving marks, bruises, and hickies.

・She likes leaving them where other’s can see - 

・Johanna needs people to know that you’re taken

・A big thing with her is foreplay. She loves making you whine, beg for more. 

・SHE LOVES TO TEASE

・Sex toys? Yes. Vibrators, strap ons, dildos, anal beads etc. She would own the lot (and you guys keep everything in your ‘sex’ drawer)

[brookesophelias]

thg & nine little things

1. there is something so fucked up about writing Mature-rated fanfiction featuring sexual acts with Coriolanus Snow but never understanding he is the fictional version of Hitler, Stalin, Zedong, & Mussolini, Franco & Il-sung

2. there is something so fucked up about knowing that Finnick was prostituted by thousands & still Mature-rated fanfiction featuring sexual acts with Finnick Odair & yourselves.

3. there is something so fucked up about writing YA Fanfictions that are Submit-Your-Own-Tribute Games to this day.

4. there is something so fucked up in knowing people hated The Hunger Games, even in the Capitol—in the early days, too—& writing our own FanFictions of the gore & deaths because we want more

5. there is something so fucked up in knowing how barely-alive these 10th Games Tributes were while they were expected to perform & treated inhumanly, except not understanding that Black Lives Matter & Gazans deserve to live without genocide.

6. there is something so fucked up about saying Peeta & Katniss deserve a happy ending & then when the author gives you what you asked for, you have a long list of reasons why it shouldn’t be canon

7. there is something so fucked up about knowing servers get sexually harassed by customers or get more tips when they change their hairstyle/makeup & Mature-rated fanfiction featuring sexual acts between Glimmer & Seneca Crane.

8. there is something so fucked up about protesting Avoxes but telling people to never complain about an opportunity or their employers.

9. there is something so fucked about hating the injustices in daily life while consuming The Hunger Games Novels, only to reduce its importance by avoiding messages other than the ‘shipping.

[redwinetalks]

I Won't Let You Sink

Chapter 3

(Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairing: Finnick X Fem!OC

Warnings: slight self harm, angst, fluff , protective Finnick, Finnick is a sap, panic attack, violence/gore, death, hurt/comfort, pre-canon, young Finnick and Silk, Silk AND Finnick pov

Summary: It's the next year of the Hunger Games. Silk is a mentor now and Finnick will not let her go through this alone!!

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

~ Silk ~

The old apartment mom and I lived in didn’t have many windows, but that hardly matters when you barely see the sun in the sky. If you live closer to factories, the smog is so thick that you never see the blue in the sky. Victor’s Village is at the edge of town so the air quality is better. There’s still smog, but I can see the sky. The sun doesn’t have to try as hard to come out. It shines in my face and wakes me almost instantly. I’m still getting used to the brightness and the warmth that it brings me, but it feels inviting. It feels familiar. My mouth twitches into a small smile whenever the sun wakes me up. Like a good friend has come to visit and take the darkness away. 

I feel the sun’s comfort even on the days I have to leave for the Capitol. It tells me that I’ll be back soon and I won’t lose that warmth. I will find it in Finnick O’dair. Maybe it’s because he himself is always so warm. His hands are warm when he places one on my cheek to ease my anxiety. His chest and his arms are warm when he pulls me into calming hug. His legs are warm when one brushes up again mine as we sit together. Every time I feel Finnick’s warmth I’m reminded of the sun. 

We’ve grown closer with each visit to the Capitol. We regularly find each other when one of us is needing a moment to breathe. I think we’ve developed a sense for when it happens. I think Finnick likes it when I look to him for a way out of a dull conversation. He always dramatically whisks me away, playing hero. 

Finnick is so much different than the persona he turns on for everyone else. He isn’t arrogant or self centered at all. The real Finnick always wants to focus on how I’m feeling instead of himself. He can get so worked up and always wants to help anyone in need. It took me a bit to grow fully comfortable with his care, to let him in. I’ve never had someone worry over me the way he does. 

However, Finnick never wants me to worry over him. He has this idea in his head that he’s supposed to be the caretaker. That his own troubles are irrelevant. It’s like pulling teeth, getting him to be truly vulnerable. I never push too hard as I don’t want to overstep, but I can tell he wants the comfort. It’s almost as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. I can only imagine all of the feelings he has shut inside. With each visit I try to open that door a bit more. 

I don’t dread my train ride to the Capitol in the same way I used to. I would panic and I could never sleep leading up to my visits. I still feel that gut wrenching anxiety, and I always will, but now I don’t have to go through it alone. I now can give myself assurance that there will be a shoulder I can lean on. There’s someone who can look at me and understand the pain that I feel. I don’t have to see myself in the mirror falling apart when someone will come help me pick up the pieces. 

This doesn’t mean that what happens at the Capitol is no longer traumatic. It is still very much so. I will never get used to the pain. The way these people look at me and don’t see a real person. They don’t see a human being that deserves life. They see someone who won their favorite show. A prize that they can play with. They can customize me in almost every way. They pick what I wear, what makeup is put on me, how my hair is done. They give me instructions on how to behave and how to give them their fantasy. They don’t see anything wrong with it and they never will. 

“Don’t get lost in there, sweetheart.” Finnick sits next to me on the couch in his room, twirling a piece of my hair. 

“How was your shower?” I turn to give him my attention. His blonde hair is still damp and a few wavy strands rest on his forehead. 

“Not scalding enough.” he jokes. “Did ya miss me? I’m sure those twenty minutes were quite boring.” 

“Nope.” I say, popping the “p”. “Barely even noticed.” 

“I’m hurt, sweetheart.” He puts his hand on his chest and gives me a sad, pouty expression. 

“So dramatic. One girl turns you down and suddenly your ego is shattered.” 

“Only when it’s you, beautiful.” He smirks at me and I can feel the warmth creeping up my face. Finnick is the only person who has ever given me this kind of warmth. It still surprises me every time, this feeling I’ve never felt before. 

“You’ll get over it.” I shrug him, and the feeling, off and then turn to look back at the night sky.  He laughs to himself and sighs. 

“Did you know I’d never seen the stars before coming to the Capitol?” I suddenly say. Finnick faces me with a look of shock. 

“What? How is that?” I smile, his surprised expression making me laugh softly. 

“I’ve seen them in pictures but, you know how I told you the water at the shore in 8 is polluted?” He nods, now giving me a more focused expression. “Well, the sky is too. The factories cause the air to be polluted as well. There’s this smog that makes the sky look all hazy. During the day I can barely tell that the sky is blue. And at night, I can’t see any stars at all. I didn’t know that they were this beautiful.” I’m still gazing at them. They’re so much brighter than I thought they’d be. Finnick turns to look at them as well.

“They are, but you’re far more beautiful.” He says this so genuinely. I look at him surprised, yet confused. I’m taken aback. It’s not like Finnick hasn’t given me a compliment before. He’s kind and charming. He knows how to make someone feel seen. But this feels different. His tone doesn’t sound flirtatious, like it usually does when he gives a compliment. It’s much sweeter, much softer. He doesn’t give me enough time to dwell on it before he continues speaking. “When I’m home in 4, I sit on the beach and watch the stars almost every night. It’s so peaceful, watching the sun go down and then seeing the moon glow so bright. The sky goes from light blue to a vibrant orange or a soothing purple. And then it turns this dark blue, almost black. The contrast of the night sky and the sparkling stars can be breathtaking. One day, when you visit me, we can stargaze together.” 

A pang of jealousy hits me. As much as I love my home, it hasn’t been able to give me these wondrous experiences. The labor that is forced upon us all in Panem affects how we get to experience life. And unfortunately, I didn’t get to grow up in district 4. I didn’t grow up in a district with clear skies. I grew up in a district where being outside for too long can make it difficult to breathe. Sometimes I feel like 8 gets punished the most because of our rebellious nature, but I know that every district struggles with their own hardships caused by the Capitol. It isn’t fair of me to compare us all. I know that I’m just feeling bitter, now more than ever. 

“I don’t think I can be too hopeful of that.” He frowns at me. I know that he’s trying to give me something positive to think about, but my mind won’t allow me to dream. “How could I dream of something so wonderful when I know it’ll never happen?” He takes my hand and squeezes tight. 

“Come with me.” He gets off the couch and leads me out of the bedroom and onto the balcony. I don’t question what he’s doing. As I get to know Finnick, I learn how he goes to any dramatic lengths to help me feel better. His heart is so big. The fact that he hasn’t lost who he is to the Capitol’s torture makes him one of the strongest people I know. 

He ushers me to sit on the ground next to him. When I do, he then lays on his back and I copy him. I look at his eyes. Even at night I swear that they sparkle. 

“Look up, pretty girl.” I smile softly at him and then do as he says. “If I can’t yet take you to gaze at the stars in 4, then I’ll take this for now.” He holds my hand and then the few tears that I have been holding in finally let go. The night sky is vast and breathtaking, just like he said. I’ve never just taken a second to look at it like this. 

“Thank you” I say in almost a whisper. 

“I will always do whatever I can to bring a smile to your face.” He says and twirls a strand of my hair again. I turn back to face him and I’m looking into those sea green eyes. I watch them as they study my face. We both stay like this for a while, still holding hands. I feel a tightness in my chest. It’s like a pull towards Finnick, but I choose to ignore it. I let the moment continue to be just this. Just us looking at each other and feeling like we are the only people in the world. I’ve never felt the way I do now, but I would like this feeling to stay forever. It feels so comforting. I feel safe here. In this little world that is just me and Finnick. 

In the middle of the mattress, Finnick’s hand still holds onto mine. This is the first time we’ve fallen asleep right next to each other. He usually sleeps on the floor, going against my protests. But tonight, we lay in the bed. The bed that I used to be so afraid of. It doesn’t feel as scary with Finnick here. He seems to make all of my troubles fade into the back of my mind. I could never thank him enough for keeping me from sinking into that dark abyss. The next time I see him I’ll be a mentor. We won’t be back at the Capitol for parties, we’ll be back for the 69th annual Hunger Games. It is utterly terrifying that I will be the one guiding tributes, but he’s told me how he won’t let me go through it alone. He will be beside me every second he can, and I hope that I can make the year less daunting for him as well. 

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

The day of the reaping is finally here. The leading up to it felt somehow fast and slow at the same time. Today I get to relive the trauma of being selected by seeing two kids walk to the stage with the same gut wrenching fear that I had. I am terrified for them and terrified that I will let them down. Even if I do my job to the best of my ability, only one will come home. I will still lose one of my own. I don’t know how I’ll be able to get off the train and face everyone when I return home. 

District 8 is the sixth largest district. I know mainly just the people who’ve worked in the factories near me or live close to my home. My old home. I’m familiar with some who I see frequently in the heart of the district. Where people sell food or an assortment of clothes and items at their separate stalls. That doesn’t matter so much, though. It’s not better for someone I know or don’t know to be picked. Either way a child is going to die and a family is going to suffer. I don’t know how Cecilia pushes through. Woof, the other victor in 8, isn’t all there. She’s basically on her own. His dementia has caused him to be less and less involved. A part of me is happy for him that he is losing his memories. Maybe he’s losing the worst ones and is actually living peacefully. That’s what I would like to believe. 

I wonder how Cecilia feels today. How did she feel when she was mentoring me? How did she feel when Pinn, my district partner, died? How does it feel doing this year after year, especially now that she has children of her own. One day her children will be old enough to be reaped. I can’t even imagine the fear of having to mentor your own child. The thoughts swirling around in my head make me dizzy. 

I wince when I realize I’ve been digging my nails into my palm. I haven’t done that in a while. Finnick stops me whenever he notices and the habit has slowly started to break. However, it seems like I’m picking it back up with the additional stress. 

“Honey, are you ready?” My mom peaks through my door and looks at me with a sad smile. She holds my sweater over her arm. It’s one that she knit for me during a sleepless night. When I was away for one of my trips to the Capitol. She still doesn’t know the whole reason that I have to go. She tries to get the answer out of me every few weeks, but I never let myself reveal the truth. It’s just meaningless parties that I have to attend as a victor. I know she doesn’t believe me, but for now that’s all I can give her. 

“Just about.” I sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. I use a scarf to keep the hair out of my face for today. The green details complement the dark purple color of my dress. I wanted to wear some of my favorite colors, thinking they’d somehow make me feel more positive. But nothing about today will be positive. 

“You’re going to get through this. You are stronger than they know. You’ll have Cecilia with you. And Finnick when you get to the Capitol.” I nod and mom pulls me in for a hug. She squeezes me tight and kisses my head. “I’ll be in the crowd, but I won’t get to say goodbye before you leave. You’ll be back home in a few weeks. No matter how bad it gets just remember that this time you’re coming home.” She holds my cheek in her hand and rubs her thumb back and forth. I look at her and keep nodding. I’m coming home this time. 

Standing beside Cecilia, I watch all the kids fall in line. It’s such a weird feeling, not being part of that line. Not being part of the rows and rows of young girls. I should feel some kind of relief. I no longer have to worry about my name being called, but I still feel that worry. It’s just different. It’s now about who will be called on for me to mentor. 

Cecilia must sense the anxiety radiating off of me because she starts to rub my back. I look to her and she gives me a kind smile. She doesn’t have to say anything to me. I know that she’s telling me I’ll be okay. I’ll get through it. After all these years, Cecilia is still standing. She has a loving husband and two beautiful children. Watching her gives me a sense of hope that I could have a happy future. It’s hard to see right now, but maybe one day I’ll eventually be okay. 

I shake myself from my thoughts and see they’ve chosen a female tribute. I don’t know her, but she looks to be about 12 years old. Her first year in the reaping and she’s been picked. She’s already crying and the escort, Veridie, is smiling as wide and brightly as possible. I clench my fists. The anger I feel growing inside of me is indescribable. 

She glides over to the other bowl to pick the male tribute name. I’m trying not to start hyperventilating. I need to look as calm as possible. I’ve done this before. I didn’t allow myself to react at my own reaping. Why is it so much harder now? Because these kids are going to be looking up to me to survive. The pressure is so heavy. It feels like I’m being pushed into the ground. 

My eyes focus on Veridie as she shouts the male tribute’s name and I realize I know this tribute. We went to school together and worked in the same factory. He’s the same age as me, 18. He was so close making it. So close to being free. 

The panic is rising in my chest. I can feel tears brimming in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. I feel horrible. I can’t do this. How the fuck am I supposed to do this?

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

~ Finnick ~

The train ride to the Capitol was the same as it is every year. The air is tense as I explain the hell my tributes are about to go through. I teach them about getting sponsors and making allies while Mags tries to do some consoling. 

I wonder how Silk is doing right now. I wish I was with her right now. I wish I could try to ease her distress. I’m afraid she’ll be more closed off when I finally see her. She doesn’t want to look weak. She doesn’t want for people to be able to read her, but I know how strong she is. How she’s feeling right now doesn’t make her weak. She’s always able to hold herself together when she knows she’s being watched. That takes an enormous amount of strength. I don’t want her to feel like she has to be that strong around me. I don’t want her to close herself back up after I’ve finally helped her relax. 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the last night I saw her. She looked so beautiful in the glow of the night sky. With her hand in mine, I felt an electricity shooting up my body. I never wanted to let her go. And when she looked at me. I could have kissed her right there. I wish I had swept her up in my arms, but I don’t know how she feels. I don’t want her to feel comfortable with me now and then ruin it all. Her hand in mine is enough. I never want to let her go. 

I still haven’t seen Silk after arriving at the Capitol. The opening ceremony will be happening soon and I’m hoping to catch her. I just need to see how she’s holding up. 

Mags keeps teasing me about how I’ve been so distracted. She continues to do so while I’m looking around the carriages. I spot Cecilia, but I’m struggling to find Silk. I stifle a laugh, thinking about how her short stature is probably the reason I don’t see her. 

I make my way to Cecilia. If I can’t find Silk I can at least ask about her. As I’m almost to the older mentor, I finally spot her. She looks even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. She’s talking to her female tribute. I see the kindness in her eyes as she tells the girl what to expect. Even though this child is a spectacle to the Capitol, Silk tries to make it sound more magical. She tells the girl how lovely she looks and that being on the carriage feels like gliding through the air. 

“Go show everyone out there how strong you are. I’ll be right here when you get back.” She rubs the girls arm and then guides her onto the carriage. When she turns back around she locks eyes with me. 

“Finnick” she says with a sweet smile. My heartbeat speeds up a little, her focus now being on me. 

“Hello, sweetheart. Want a sugar cube?” Her brow furrows and I let out a breath of a laugh. “They’re for the horses, but I think you deserve a treat just as sweet as you.” She rolls her eyes, as she usually does when I flirt with her, but then takes it. She pops it into her mouth and I can’t help but look at her lips. I bet they taste just as sweet as that sugar. I take a deep breath to try and keep my focus. A task that proves to be difficult whenever I’m around her. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t say more than that. She has on a brave face, but I think that’s all she can give right now. 

“How are you holding up? It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been…okay” She says distantly. She’s looking just next to me, eyes lost in space. Her mind must be racing. 

“Anything going on in that beautiful head of yours that you’d want to talk about?” 

“Finnick…how do I do this?” Her eyes now stare directly into mine and I feel heavy. How do you prepare kids to go and fight to the death? There’s no real answer to that question, but she knows that. If there was an answer I would’ve told her immediately. So would Cecilia. What she’s really asking is how do you cope? How do you keep from breaking down every second? 

“You just…you have to push through this first year. It’ll still be hard next year and so on, but you learn the routine. You know what to expect and it makes it easier to process.” I rub her arm and she hums a response. I want to give her more comfort, but I don’t want to overwhelm her. We’re in too public of a space for me to fully embrace her. “You’ll be okay, though. I’m here if you need anything at all, sweet girl. I mean that.” Her lips twitch up into the softest smile. Her hand cups my cheek and I could almost melt into her touch. 

“I know, sweet Finnick.” 

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*

~ Silk ~

After the long days of training and interviews end, the watch party starts and I sit next to Cecilia. Her demeanor has gotten more tense throughout these past few days. I know she’s feeling drained and I wish I could be more help. She’s told me not to worry about it. She just wants me to try and get through this first year the best that I can. 

We’re in a room full of mentors from the other districts. Finnick is sitting with Mags. He’s tying and untying knots into some rope and I assume it’s to help with stress. I see Haymitch in the corner drowning himself in liquor and I wonder if I’ll have to drink like that to get through these trips in the future. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I don’t think I’d be surprised if it does. It’ll just mean I have something in common with my father. 

The countdown is starting and I’m gripping the couch cushions. I don’t know what to expect. If I’m being honest with myself, my tributes don’t stand a good chance at winning. Both of their training scores were low. Not impressive enough to get any sponsors. It’s horrible, but I know that they’ll die. I just hope it’s quick and painless. That’s all you can really wish for. 

The games start and everything is moving so quickly. I can barely even keep track of where my tributes are. I hear the canon going off over and over. Cecilia gasps quietly and holds onto my hand. When I look to see what has happened, I feel like the air has been punched out of me. That little girl, my tribute, is dead on the ground with an axe in her head. Just a few feet away my other tribute is falling to the ground after being stabbed by a career. 

“Cecilia” I don’t know what to do. I feel like the room is spinning. “Um…I think I need to take a minute.” 

“There’s a bathroom just outside the door. Take however much time you need. I’ll go grab some water.” She rubs my arm and then helps me stand. I try to walk as calmly as I can out of the room. As soon as the doors close behind me I rush into the bathroom and start hyperventilating. There are no tears flowing, there’s only panic. Panic from me not doing enough to help them. Panic from having to watch their gruesome murders. Panic from failing them. Everything around me is spinning and I feel my stomach churning. 

“Silk? Can I come in?” That’s not Cecilia. I’m too upset to be able to focus. I don’t even answer. I just keep failing at trying to breathe. 

I whip my head at the door as it slightly opens. Finnick peaks in calmly and then shifts into extreme worry once he sees me. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re okay. Look at me.” He holds onto my arms and locks eyes with me. I shake my head at him. 

“They’re dead. They’re dead, Finnick. And I couldn’t help them.” He pulls me into a tight embrace. He has one hand on my head and the other rubbing my back. Even at the Capitol he still smells of salty air. 

“It’s not your fault, Silk. None of this is your fault.” I’m still shaking and my breathing is still rapid. I hear what he’s telling me but I can’t process it. The panic in my stomach is rising. 

“I’m gonna be sick.” I mumble and push him away. I rush over to the toilet and then I feel Finnick’s hands grab my hair out of my face. He sits next to me and continues to rub my back. “You don’t have to stay in here.” I say, breathily. 

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl.” I sigh deeply and then flush away the sickness. I still feel awful, but at least the anxiety attack has ceased. 

He hands me a glass of water and I gladly take it. I clean myself up at the sink and then slowly sip on the water. Finnick stays close by, hand still on my back. I feel calmer now that he is here. I feel the warmth that he brings with him. I lean my head against his chest and he kisses the top of my head. Somehow, even during this horrendous night, he still makes my heart swell. 

“Why don’t we go and look at the stars, huh?” He runs his hand through my hair and I nod, still leaning on him. He guides me out of the bathroom and upstairs to his room. 

Once inside, he grabs a blanket and wraps it around me. We walk out to the balcony and the warm air hits my face. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Finnick pulls me close to him and I feel myself letting go of some tension.

I wonder how I’d be doing right now if I never met Finnick. I wonder if my nights alone at the Capitol would start to drive me to insanity. There’s a part of me that is afraid of much he means to me. How it feels like I need him. I want to be strong enough to hold myself up, but that isn’t how people work. Pushing others away only makes things worse. I’ve always been afraid of letting people in. I usually keep to myself. The only person who truly knows me is my mother, but I think Finnick is starting to know me. Really know me. That fills me up with so much anxiety. But it’s not really the bad kind. It’s more of a feeling of want. I want Finnick to stay in my life for a long time. 

“I wish I lived amongst the stars.” I say while we both stare at the sky. “I want to be the moon and feel the sun shining on me, making the me glow.” He looks down at me while listening intently. I feel like Finnick is always shining. And his sunshine makes me glow. He casts away the darkness. “You’re the sun, Finnick. You are so bright and so beautiful.” I run my hand through his hair and then rest it on his cheek. He’s smiling and I rub my thumb over the dimple that appears. My eyes rest on his lips and I feel that pull that I felt last time we looked at the stars. This time though, I don’t want to keep the moment still. I don’t want to resist the pull. 

I raise myself up on my tiptoes and pull his face towards mine. I close my eyes and kiss him. I breathe in his sea salty lips that have a hint of sweetness from a sugar cube. One of his arms holds onto my back while the other tightly wraps around my torso, and there is nothing else in the world. It is just me and Finnick and the stars. 

Our kiss eventually breaks, but he doesn’t move his face away. His forehead stays resting on mine. 

“Silk…” he says breathlessly. His cheeks are flushed and his sea green eyes are locked onto mine. I wait for him to continue speaking, but he doesn’t. He pulls me in for another kiss. This time feels even more passionate. He holds me even tighter and my feet are just barely touching the ground. 

“For the past two years, I thought I’d never feel true happiness again. I was completely defeated.” He starts and I’m now back to standing fully on the ground. “Meeting you has felt like a dream. You bring me serenity amidst all the despair I have endured. Your glow, your incandescent light has guided me out of that pit I fell into. I can’t express how grateful I am to have you in my life.” He still has one hand around my torso, keeping me close, but now his other hand brushes through my hair and then rests just between my jaw and neck. He glides his thumb over my lips and then traces my cheek. I smile and then breathe out a light laugh. 

“Such a sweet talker.” He gives me the eye roll that I’m always giving him, but then he laughs and kisses my head. 

“I have to keep up the dramatics for you, pretty girl.” I hum happily in response. We stay like this for a minute, just holding each other. I think back to the reason we’re up here in the first place. My face falls and I squeeze Finnick a bit tighter. 

“Thank you for helping me get through all of this. Especially tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to break my promise to you. I am here for you and I always will be.” 

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

Thank you so much for reading! I had some rough writer's block for this one sooo hope its okayyyy. I hope you enjoyed :) As always I am open to kind feedback. Also let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next chapter!! <3

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[countrymusiclover]

7 - The Games - Day One

Part 8

Are You Capitol or District

Tag list ( send an ask in my ask box to be added ) @lemonluvgirl @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1 @voiddylanobrosey @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @agentxx92

“Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman. For the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games.” Sitting in my father’s chair in front of the tv screen I nervously watched the Reaping of the 74th Hunger Games. Effie trinket drew out a name from the female bowl heading back over to the microphone. “Primrose Everdeen.”

“Oh my god no!” Covering my mouth with my hands I saw the young blonde haired girl walk through the crowd. Being able to see she had to only be 12 years old.

Prim spun around on her feet with the cameras showing a older girl with dark brown hair rushing towards her with the peacekeepers began to stop her. “Prim! Prim, no, no, I volunteer. I volunteer - I volunteer as tribute!”

“I believe we had a volunteer.” Effi declared to the crowd.

The peacekeepers let the two hug before the older girl told the young one to get out of there. “Prim, you need to get out of here.”

“No.”

She told her again. “Go find mom.”

“No.”

“Prim, go find mom. I’m so sorry.”

A guy walked over to them scooping up the young girl and carrying her over to her mother with the older girl being escorted up onto the stage. “No, no, no!” Prim cried out with such terror in her voice.

“What’s your name?” The announcer asked her.

She responded to her question. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“Well I bet my hat that was your sister wasn’t it?”

Katniss replied. “Yes.”

Laying back I felt tears welling in my eyes at what had just aired on the television. District 12 had never had a volunteer until today. So this would change the Games forever, nobody knew it at the time.

Katniss had refused to go to sleep like Mags and Peeta had just laid down on the ground when the sky started turning dark meaning it was nightfall. Leaning my back against one of the trees seeing Finnick lay his trident down beside my feet sitting down next to me. “How are you feeling now about all this?”

“Still freaked out. But I think it’s better than what alternative Snow offered me.” I replied, eyeing a sleeping Mags laying across from us.

Finnick glanced at me. “What did he demand from you?”

“He wanted me to be his Capitol Rose.” I paused thinking back on the conversation I had with the president. “It took me a minute to realize what he meant by that when I started thinking about you and the little bit you told me about what he did to you.”

He clicked his tongue. “Selling your body to the Capitol citizens.”

“He claimed that they loved me almost as much as they do you.”

He slowly reaches down, intertwining my hand with his larger one. “I'm sorry he tried to threaten you, Ari.”

“I thought he couldn't do that until you were 18 years old. It's only the rest of this year and then he could force that fate upon me if we made - if I made it out of here.”

Finnick shot his head around so fast I swore it would’ve spun around if it physically could. “You're getting out of here. I swear that to you. Now you should get some sleep. I'll wake you up if anything changes.” He tells me, tucking some wet strands of hair behind my ear.

Pushing some leaves out of the way I managed to find a not so harsh spot to lay my head down on. “Night Finn.” I muttered closing my eyes and falling asleep.

He whispered back to me. “Night Ari.”

Finnick stared down at the golden bangle he was wearing on his left wrist from Haymitch. When he had given it to him during their conversation he secretly knew that he was saying take care of my daughter, even though the bracelet was meant to show Katniss that Haymitch trusted the district 4 tribute.

Haymitch and Effie were watching the Games inside the nearest bar area in the common area of the Capitol. Everyone had their attention focused on the Games. Effie lightly hit her lover on the arm. “This is madness. She has no experience in here like all the other victors do.”

“Don’t you think I already know that. And besides if I attempted to do anything against the games Snow would kill her instantly before our eyes.”

She slumped her shoulders in disbelief. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now.”

Haymitch watched her walk away from him in those bright red heels clicking on the floor. He stayed there for a few minutes knowing he couldn’t tell her the real backup plan he had in mind. “We gotta talk about Ariyne. She needs to come out of the arena alive.” He moved through the crowd finding Plutarch was walking around outside until he pulled him into the nearest elevator.

“I can't guarantee that can happen, Haymitch. Katniss is the lightning rod for the rebellion.” He started to say to the man in front of him.

Haymitch snapped at him. “She’s my daughter and I refuse to leave her behind!”

“I didn't mean it like that but we have to have Katniss and Finnick.”

He glared at him. “Either you get my daughter out of there like we talked about or you might lose my support along with Effie and Finnick. Because he now cares about her too.”

“What do you mean he cares about her. They’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

Haymitch shrugged his shoulders with a weak smile. “I’m not really sure how it happened so fast. But it has and I told him to do whatever he could to protect her in that arena. I saw the look in his eyes, Plutarch. It’s not love, but if they made it out it could turn into that. She’s - she’s missed out on living life.”

“I’ll do the best I can. I will, I promise. But I’ve gotta make it not look rigged with Snow watching.” The head game maker warned his friend.

The former victor extended his hand. “I understand. Please rescue my little Ariyne.”

“Enjoy the show, Abernathy.” Plutarch shook his hand before the elevator door dinged open and they parted going their separate ways.

[iliveonteaandbooks]

☾༓ Hold You Close Masterlist ✧.*ೃ༄

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Maybe District 12 wasn't the only one with star crossed lovers...

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A friends to lovers Finnick Odair love story.

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Slow Updates! Please do not plagiarize my work but rebloging is appreciated, along with comments. Requests fornew stories and other fandoms are open. Now sit back and enjoy! (Warnings will be added as needed in beginning of chapters!)

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"In the ebb and flow of the tide our love finds its eternal stride."

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Book I : Chapter I

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Just to kiss me (Part 3)

pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part One, Part Two, My Hunger Games Masterlist

summary: A night at the lake goes sour. Finnick does some reflecting

warnings: drowning, implied drug use, references to depression, some hurt/comfort (although there will be more in the next part)

required reading: The song "We'll never have sex" by Leith Ross &lt;3

a/n: plot??? in my fic??? who woulda thought

wc: 3.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s cold. Sharp, shallow breaths, and his head pounds in his skull. The weight of a thousand depths on his chest. Something pressing behind his eyes; his head filled with lead. 

Finnick opens his eyes, and he’s met with the bright lights of the mens bathroom. Cold ceramic against his palms as he looks into the basin’s mirror; its ornate frame spanning the width of the double sinks. Beyond its walls, the dull thrum of the gala. Behind him, a man steps out of a stall, donned in shiny grease and draped fabric. Finnick flashes a well practised smile, and steps out.

He walks through the corridors, transforming. Shoulders back, upright, leisurely pace. Walk in like he's Finnick Odair; capitol darling. A deep breath, and he steps through gilded double doors. 

The Great Hall is packed, unsurprisingly. They all blur together, a writhing mass of limbs and wine. Hushed whispers and elbows and raised eyebrows: it washes over him like water. 

Easygoing and free flowing, he drifts between embankments of people. He tugs on the sleeve of his jacket absent-mindedly. Pulling at the threads was an art, at this point. Between sips of champagne, a gentle hand on the back, a well-placed compliment; he pulls and pulls, until they're almost threadbare. An art; skills honed in those four walls, the victory tour, press conferences, a life of cameras and glamour. Watching, always watching. And so he puts on a show. 

Some of his best work yet, he thinks. In the middle of a conversation about a raucous night with Panem's finest; he spots something. Someone. A girl in the corner, eyes flitting around the room like it's her first time. There's always one, shaky, doesn't know how to pretend like the rest of them; she hasn't built that reflex yet. His mouth moves faster than he can think; ichor flows like it's second nature. The group around him; enraptured. He likes this part, at least. Weaving stories, watching the fish in the river rush past his ankles. 

BANG! A spear into the heart of a writhing salmon, and he slams his glass on a side table. "....it was like a rocket! Cora's on the floor, Alaris can barely stand and I'm still trying to figure out which way's up…" laughter erupts from the crowd around him. The girl barely glances at him. He watches as she tucks herself behind the desserts tray, wholly more interested in the cakes than him. She's pretty, of course, but they always are. A newcomer floundering like he once did, overwhelmed by the sharp teeth and pink tongues. He's still tugging at the thread of his jacket. 

In the afterglow of conversation someone taps his shoulder, presses their lips towards his ear. Discreet. He doesn't look, Finnick knows better. Instead, he waits for instructions. 

"Venia Laurel, on your left, towards the door. He knows something." A familiar voice; of which her name he makes a point not to know. Quietly, he hums in affirmation. 

"How long do I have?" 

"He needs it done tonight."

He flashes a smile at a waiter, grabbing a flute of gold liquid. Under his breath, he says. "I need more time." It was a quicker turnaround than usual; and Finnick needed the time. Whilst stupid, many wouldn't divulge sensitive information that easily; he'd like to avoiding waking up in a bed other than his own. 

"Tonight." Firm. An unspoken threat in the air. He sighs and downs his drink. The mask drops when he begins to move away. And then, sharp nails latch onto his forearm. 

"He knows." She says lowly, voice trembling. Finnick stops like she's stabbed him. He turns, and her eyes are wide, bloodshot, scared. 

He knows. 

He rushes out of her grip, shaking. Thudding at his temples, the lights are too bright, the people too loud. Chest tight, he pulls at his sleeves and almost stumbles into an oncoming tray of hor d'oeuvres. 

In his haze, his manager, bumbling and rosy, slaps a hand on his back. Well-meaning, but it makes him jump. 

"Odair!" He splutters, lips curling so his moustache touches the apples of his cheeks. Any other time, it would've been comical. "We've got a certain Councillor Arachne, who wants a word."

Finnick rubs his eyes, tired. "Now's not the time, Stannis."

The man opposite huffs. "Not the time? She's bankrolling us -I mean - you with her campaign. All she wants is a word. Probably pimping you out to her friends, or something."

He winces at Stannis' bluntness. "Sure… sure. Lead the way."

Every step feels like lead. He's not listening when introduced to Councillor Arachne and another girl about his age. Arachne; a tall, spindly woman, dressed in a simple gown and pearls; stretches her face into a thin-lipped smile. Well-practised, too polished. 

"Mr Odair, how lovely to meet you again!" 

"The pleasure's all mine," He says, shaking her hand. It feels clammy, he's sure of it; the room's hot and thick with sweat. The girl besides her buzzes despite his nerves. "And this is…?"

“V-Vonnie. Sir. Mr Odair… s-sir. My name's Vonnie Dulaire, and I am so excited to meet you…!" She's bright, babbling on and on. Her lips are bubblegum pink, moving at a thousand miles an hour and he's barely able to concentrate - unable to stop thinking about the words spoken to him earlier.

".....and I'm probably your biggest fan! I was actually at the victory tour for your mentee, and it was electric...."

He knows.

".....is your suit custom? I hear there's a stylist you always work with that designs similar looks, like in your last interview…"

He knows.  

"....I can't imagine Ceasar actually said that to you, live! I've got a friend, who swears she 'doesn't watch that kinda crap' but even she said it was quite a scandal…"

He knows. 

"....I got it specially made and I think it matches yours, too. What do you think?"

He snaps his head upwards at the question. He gives her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but enough to dazzle. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I-If you'll excuse me." He nods, walking off towards the door. 

Finnick can't breathe.

Clawing at the collar of his shirt, gold jewellery like a noose around his neck, he stumbles onto the balcony - grateful for the cool air. He was careful, he made sure of it. Made sure there were no eyes, cashed in long-standing favours. How could Snow have found out? 

Dizzy, he steadies himself on the balcony. There wasn't the time for a panic attack, not now. He blinks away hot tears, gasping for a breath. Something clatters on the floor behind him. In the gloom, he makes out the silhouette of a stranger. Of you. 

~~~

You're frozen at first - paralysed with fear on the deck. Finnick isn't moving. A man basically born with gills, sinking into the inky blue. Why wasn't he moving? Did he fall? Where did the blood come from?

A thousand questions, not enough time. You don't think, not really, as you reach for the zipper on your gown. Haphazard, you wrench it off - not caring for the tears and rips created in your wake. Before long, you're in the slip dress underneath miles of beaded net. Barefoot, trembling, you don't hesitate. You take a step back, and jump. 

The first thing you feel is cold; consuming, numbing cold. Calm, for a moment. And then biting realisation. When you surface, you look for a sign of life - anything that can tell you where Finnick is. There are slight bubbles, a few metres away. Deep breaths, and you dive into the blue-black. 

~~~

He can't stop thinking about you.

Finnick sits in white sheets, looking up at the ceiling. Exhausted, but he can't sleep. Gentle snoring from beside him punctuates every thought. In the capitol he's constantly surrounded by beautiful things: gaudy, gauche, sickly-sweet and beautiful. Your meeting on the balcony shouldn't have been anything special, and yet… 

Even in your fancy dress, your personality shone through: kind, funny, genuine. He can't help but replay your laugh, your smile, in his head. Gently, he rolls out of bed. 

It's early in the morning, dregs of sunrise scatter through the window. He's draped in amber light as he pulls on a shirt; padding on plush carpet. In the mirror hanging up in Venia Laurel's bedroom, he looks a sight, he thinks. Sallow, glitter smeared around his eyes, and lean lined. There's a nasty bruise on his neck; bite marks at his stomach. He pokes at them demurely. It's tender, but he'll live. 

Methodical, he makes his search. He starts in the bedroom, pulling at cabinets and looking for false bottom drawers, anywhere that could conceal what he's looking for. Laurel's apartment is surprisingly messy - unexpected for such a clean cut actor. Finnick dabbles in secrets, and the older man certainly divulged; he knew of the actor's connections with ex-gamemakers, but nothing concrete to suggest he leaked plans to interested parties. 

When he searches the grand living room, he stumbles onto something out of place. A panel in the floor, it's lip jutting out of the wood. He presses on it, and it pops out with a hollow clunk. Inside, a chip the size of his thumbnail. Finnick pockets it, hoping it may be what Snow is looking for; hoping to appease the tyrant. It burns a hole in his trousers as he covers his tracks, before calling a pod to take him home. 

He can't sleep, for the usual reasons. Guilt, nightmares, fear; take your pick. It's too nebulous and vague to put a name to; he realises quickly. A ticking clock careening towards the end for as long as he could remember. Tick-tick-tick in his head, a countdown of which he dreads to hear it stop. White noise now, the scratch and itch of it all bone deep. He tried to do a good thing, for once; he tried to help Annie. But Snow knows - and now his punishment will be slow and painful. 

In the weeks that follow, waiting for a knife in the back, he analyses every word. On the balcony, the way your lips curled into laughter, how soft your hand was. It was a fantasy, somehow, one he had to convince himself actually happened. A conversation, lilting and light, that he locks up in his heart for safe-keeping. 

It keeps him distracted at events. Instead of worrying about Snow, he fans his breath, adjusts his collar, and stops picking at his sleeves; preening like a songbird. When he asks for the sleeveless sheer shirt instead of his usual, his stylist humours him and lets him choose, just this once. In the middle of a conversation, when he hears bright laughter, he turns around, looking for you. Waiting on balconies, pacing corridors. He's gone insane, he knows. But he needs something to hold on to. Someone that makes him feel like a good person - like he isn't Finnick Odair. 

~~~

You're not the strongest swimmer. Ironic, considering the circumstances. Moonlight streams into the depths as you look for a hint of gold. The water stings your eyes but in the gloom, you see him. Eerily still and rapidly sinking. You pump your legs desperately; darting towards him as best you can. Lungs screaming for air, you swim further down, reaching out for something to grab onto. The tips of your fingers graze his own. He looks peaceful despite it all: eyes closed and hand outstretched like he always does. Except this time you reach for him, a frantic grab in the dark. 

You touch something. His wrist. Curling your hand around his forearm, you pull, and grab onto one arm and then the other. You're dizzy now, hand hooked onto Finnick, kicking with all the strength you can manage. Upwards you go, closer and closer to the surface as black spots dance across your vision. A little further. A little closer….

~~~

The day of Hadrian's soiree, he pretends he's not looking for you. Pretending proves to be marginally easier than to act like he isn't disappointed when he doesn't find you. Instead, there are droves of people in masks. The hair on the back of his neck bristles: they make him uneasy. He finds it harder without a face to a name, beady eyes through masks that follow him around the room.

His own mask was gaudy; triple faced and golden. Its strap itches his nose, and his eyes are caked in glitter. At his stylist's the night before, she gave him talking points for the reporters - a face looking towards Panem's past, present and future. A handsome young Victor, making waves within the Capitol, championing it's people. Pseudo-patriotic drivel to feed the vultures, he thinks. 

Dregs of conversation drip through the night. It's always the same things - empty gossip and the like. Today's topic is no more poignant: the mentors announced for the 72nd Games. A few familiar faces, and faux shock at those not on the list. Everyone dances around the topic when he lingers, and disperses into whispers when he doesn't. Talking of bets placed and withdrawn at the news, he assumes. 

The truth is, he was tired. It was only right he took Mags' place when he won, but he was so young. Odair, bright-eyed and sprightly. A wonderboy, and Capitol favourite from the start. In the mirror of silvered bowls of food, he sees that little boy with bloodied palms and sunken eyes.

He blinks, hard. The image washes away. Seeing things in the light? A side effect from the little white pills he takes before bed, he's been told. He staggers slightly from the table. Annie tugs at his sleeve from behind. 

"You ok?" she whispers, concerned. 

Finnick brushes her off, chuckling. ".... I should be asking you that. It's not too much?" 

She shakes her head. It's the first time since her victory tour she's been at one of these events, and he's worried that it's too much, too fast. Perceptive as always, he watches for a tug of her red hair, or the blank look she gives when overwhelmed. Annie was getting better, lucid for the first time in a while. She smiled, she laughed, she shone. 

That's why he couldn't tell her what he did, what he had to do, to let her see her parents. To let her live. Another time, perhaps. 

She clears her throat, mischievously. "Looking for your mystery girl?“

“T-That's not-" 

"-what you were doing, I know, I know. That's also what you said the last five times." She bounces on the balls of her feet, restless. "I know you like the back of my hand, Finnick. It's not like you to mope in the corner - something's up."

Annie's unrelenting: she doesn't let the man worm out of her gaze. Despite his discomfort, it's nice to see her like this; the little spitfire in Class 9, kind and sweet and determined to help. A change of pace, he presents his forearm to the younger woman. 

He smiles, "We should dance." 

~~~

You break the surface with Finnick in tow. He's completely still in your arms. Desperate and tired, you try to remember the swimming lessons from your youth; on your back, resting him on your legs with an arm hooked around him. Kick with everything you've got, keep his head above water. It's messy and ugly, as you pump your legs towards the shore; searching for the moment the depths below give way to sodden banks. 

You hit silt, suddenly. Your toes touch the lake bed and you desperately try to drag him onto shore.  Without the spray of the water, you can see him properly: sallow and grey. Like a corpse. His stillness is terrifying and you try not to think about what it means, or how long it's been since he's taken a breath. On autopilot now, you lay him on the banks, pressing shaky fingers to his pulse. Nothing. Rushing, you tilt his head upwards like you've been taught. With trembling lips pressed against his, you pinch his nose and breath out. You press your hands against his chest and push down, hard. Quick compressions, and you count from thirty. 

Nothing. And so you try again. Warm lips around his cold ones, deep breaths out, and quick compressions. Again. Desperate, harder, determined. 

When Finnick splutters to life, you think you could cry from exhaustion. His eyes are wild, as he coughs and thrashes; a hand tight around yours. 

"It's okay…. y-you're okay…" You soothe, holding back sobs. It seems to calm him as he lies down, brow furrowed and taking deep shaky breaths. Up this close, his pupils are dilated, and he seems disoriented, dazed. There's a sticky cut at his brow, but his eyes are locked onto you. Green and striking in the low light. Alive. 

For a while, you stay like that; watching his chest rise and fall as you hold hands by the lake. He's closed his eyes, but still breathes steadily. You barely register anything but him, until a chill blows past. Cold. Wet. Tired. The adrenaline of the moment dies down. You have to coax his hand out of yours to grab the things you dropped before… before all this. Every few seconds you glance over your shoulder to make sure he's still there, to make sure he's alive. 

He settles his head onto your shoulder, and you cradle his hands with your own; listening for the cruel staccato of his breath. He's groggy, asleep maybe. You've wrapped yourselves up in the blankets, too tired to move. You should, really: the remnants of your dress strewn onto the jetty, shiny from where you are by the trees. Cottonmouth and lead-limbed, you wait for him to become lucid. 

Something's wrong. You've felt like this before holding Vonnie's hand on the bathroom floor after a night out with the wrong crowd. Calm, and then a moment of mania before a rough comedown. You can't help but to search for needle marks on Finnick's arms, his neck, anywhere. He's pliant, unusually so, but you don't find anything. 

Your heart sinks, when you realise. The pills in his car. Morphling? He could've slipped or fallen in. He could've… jumped. And if he's been drinking….? It wouldn't matter how strong a swimmer he was usually. You dread to think of what could have happened if you were even a minute later. Tears fall even faster. You hold onto his hand a little tighter. 

When Finnick comes to, properly, you've fallen asleep. He opens his eyes to you by his side: hair down your shoulders, glitter-peppered skin, pearls in your locs, and in a white flowing dress. Well and truly, he thinks he's died. Somewhere faraway he doesn't deserve, waking up besides you. His head hurts. 

You startle, awake from your shallow slumber. Eyes red-raw, you've been crying. He wipes at your cheek and smiles weakly. 

"Let me take you home." 

Defiant, you shake your head. "No. N-no. You need to see a doctor. I can call a pod and-" 

"-no. We can't. No doctors. I'll take you home."

"Finnick, you almost died. You need help, medical attention…"

"I can't. Please."

He must look so pathetic like this, he thinks. You soften under his gaze. "N-no doctors, then. But I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"I'll be okay. I've got a first aid kit at home - don't need you worrying about me."

You stand up. "I'll come with you, then. Help patch you up." 

Exasperated, he moves to argue but doesn't have the energy. And so, he nods faintly. Despite his injuries, he towers over you, to wrap you up in the blanket, criss-crossing at your chest. It feels intimate, too close, warm breath in the cool air. With the way you look up at him, he hears his heart splinter. He pauses. 

"I'm sor-" 

"No." You say.

Finnick frowns. "I'm s-" 

"No." Your lower lip trembles, threatening to spill over. So he sighs, softly, and makes towards the deck to get your dress. Hand tight around his arm, you stop him. He's not going anywhere near the lake, not if you can help it. Hands up like he's guilty, he waits and leads you towards the car.

_

_

_

[lizzyhowards]

tell me why

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: you broke up with your ex long ago, knowing he was sleeping with women from the capitol, but how could you be oblivious to his pain?

he was your world, and you were his.

that is, until he came home from the capitol with a few too many hickeys and red lipstick stains on his neck.

it was always rumoured that he had lovers in the capitol, but who were you to believe in these whispers? you had always turned the blind eye towards the people who accused finnick of hopping from one woman to another in search of pleasure.

but that was a terrible mistake. a truly terrible one.

"finnick…" you gasped as his hunched figure appeared in the doorway, making the harsh winter wind come into your house and slap you across the face. his wrinkly white shirt was unbuttoned, his hair tousled. he looked like a skeleton, a mere collection of bones. his eyes were sunken into his skull and he couldn't bring himself to look at you. but the only thing you could see at the time were the bright red marks at the side of his neck. and who could blame your oblivion at the time?

you were only just confused, shocked, angry, and heartbroken.

you only felt like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and torn into shreds, all while the devil jeered.

You only just lost the only person you truly loved.

he had tried, he really had, to stay loyal to his real love and protect her from all the demons. he's was completely guilt-ridden from cheating on you, even though it was forced. and he knew he deserved whatever was going to come at him next.

the glossiness of your eyes were soon replaced with fire.

you staggered towards him and pushed him, hard.

"im sorry," he muttered. his heart felt like stone. oh how he wanted to kill himself at that moment.

"screw you, finnick!" you growled, "you know, you are unbelievable. is this what you have always been doing at the capitol? finding filthy women willing to please you and then coming home for some more?"

"i'm sorry, sweetheart i-" he chocked on his own voice and you grabbed the opportunity to fire at him some more.

"'sweetheart'?" you mocked, you pushed past him, slipped on your shoes, and slammed the door behind you, hugging the cold wind like an old friend.

seriously, you'd be willing to hug anything, anyone, other than finnick.

but now you were looking out of your living room window, which coincidentally happened to be the vague direction of finnick's house, which stood facing yours in the victor's village. it was a particularly chilly night and you watched the snowflakes dance in the wind in silence while sipping on your hot chocolate.

wait a minute

you saw something move

it was a person

who could be out here on such a cold winter night? you thought to yourself as you snuggled deeper into your couch.

shit

that was finnick

he looked bad. really bad. he was mildly limping, slowly to the front steps of his dimly lit house. those stairs suddenly seemed like a cliff in the condition he was in. he must have thought the same thing, for you watched as he paused in front of the steps and instead turned around and sat down, burying his face in his arms, which were resting on his knees.

he was your ex, yes, a cheater. but you still couldn't help the way your heart seemed to fall apart when you saw him in this state.

some time passed. you weren't exactly sure for how long, he was definitely out in the cold for too long.

next thing you knew, you were out in the cold with him, pulling his surprised body up and forcing him into his house. you had caught sight of his keys dangling in his pocket, and you had grabbed them and unlocked the door. he was still in a daze. you didn't know if it were because of the cold or because of whatever had caused that limp.

nevertheless, you grabbed him by the arm and guided him into his house. he gladly followed and slumped into the couch next to you.

it was at that moment when your sense came back and you remembered how much you truly hated him. you hated him, right?

yes, of course you hated him

right…?

you got up to leave, but it was too late. finnick had already snaked his arms around you and now he was nuzzling you neck lovingly.

you cursed yourself silently for how slow you were and got up quickly, shaking yourself free of his limbs.

finnick looked up at you. the touch of his arms lingered on your skin. were you imagining things or were his eyes wet?

"y/n…"

you gathered your breathe.

"get your shit together, finnick. don't you have enough women in the capitol already?"

"i-"

"'i'? you? you what, finnick? i really don't fucking care because you didn't give a fuck either." at this point you were screaming. "you didn't think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, being with two people, OH FORGET ABOUT TWO, being with, YOU KNOW WHAT I DON'T EVEN WANT TO GUESS HOW MANY PEOPLE YOU WERE WITH will hurt me?" you voice suddenly became a quite sob.

"y/n, i'm so sorry i-"

but he was interrupted with your sobs. immediately he pulled you in, onto his lap and started stroking you hair.

you basically gave in.

but that's ok

you guys figured things out eventually, and nothing could ever come across your love for each other.

[lunassentials]

Notice!

I'm back my lovelies.

1st year of Uni has been a rollercoaster, but over easter break I've found myself wanting to return to writing and have had a burst of new ideas after being devastated I lost my old works in progress.

I'm a little bit obsessed with the Hunger Games right now, so any requests or idea are welcomed, though I will be putting some stuff up soon. Once it's proofread.

Besides the original characters of the series, I've also created some of my own based on the universe, so please feel free to check them out and request for them if they tickle your fancy.

Please check out my main blog @celestialqueen13 for more information.

May the odds, be ever in your favour!

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

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

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[ervotica]

“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

“Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

[leviathanspain]

Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..

a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao

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“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.

“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.

you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”

johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”

katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.

“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”

they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.

“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.

suddenly the island began to spin.

your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.

you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.

you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.

finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.

“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”

there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.

finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.

“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.

you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.

finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”

finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”

“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.

“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.

“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.

finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.

finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.

he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.

it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.

“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”

there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”

your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.

“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.

“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”

finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.

“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”

johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.