#finnick x yn

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle. 

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case. 

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise. 

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder. 

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack. 

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up. 

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left  shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out. 

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too. 

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively. 

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees. 

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—” 

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[your-averagewriter]

“I will always wait for you."

Summary: (y/n) is rushed into the hospital of District 13 after being rescued from the Capitol. After a lot of distress, Finnick and (y/n) reunite. (Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: violence, talk of trauma, injury, kissing

-

-

I feel my head lull backwards, I don’t even have the strength to look up properly but even so, my head feels abnormally heavy. The hospital cloth scratches against my burnt skin but the feeling is still better than that of the sodden outfits I remember only too well. The sounds of machines, beeping and beeping in my ears irritate me to no end, mimicking the sounds of the sirens and alarms before the imminent terror of the cells. Blinking my eyes shut and clasping my hands over my ears I try to stop myself from thinking but all I can hear is Snow’s smug voice through the speaker and I can see his smirk with it. 

I open my eyes again to see a bland corridor, nothing but grey walls but I can hear the incessant beeping and doctors yelling. Others in hospital beds and gowns rush down the hallway and I notice a few familiar face. I can’t think of who they are, I recognise their faces but where from I don’t know, I stop thinking about it as my head starts to hurt even more.

I try to sit up but somebody pushes me back down and I don’t have the strength to protest. There are shouts to up my dose and I try to protest but all that comes out are incomprehensible slurs. I quickly feel the effect as my eyes roll back and I suddenly feel tired, even more so than usual. 

The bed isn’t soft but it’s certainly an improvement on the prison beds which makes it even easier to just fall asleep. Feeling my eyelids droop I let them, in desperate need of some rest and sleep. 

Only moments later I feel myself gain consciousness and I immediately sit upright, this time not stopped by an attendant. Sadly, the constant noise hasn’t stopped, machines, people, everything and everyone is making a noise it seems and my hands fly to my ears in desperate need of relief from the sounds. My eyes are hot and I can feel tears stinging at my eyes begging to be released. My fingernails dig into my scalp as I grip my ears, desperately trying to block out the noises but it’s all in vain because as soon as I block out surrounding noise I can hear Snow in my head again, taunting me. At any moment he could take me back and torture me, he could kill me and my family - he might have already. His threats in my ear only provoke more tears but I’m quickly attended to by strangers dressed in weird uniforms.

They try to remove my hands from my ears but as each one touches me I push them off, scared of what they’ll do and scared of the sounds they’ll let in if I hear again. After pushing away their grasping hands the tears only flow more, all eyes are on me, even the patients in the beds around me are looking at me (the ones I can’t quite remember have a special look in their eyes and I can’t tell whether it’s pity or understanding).

Doctors are shouting commands and nurses are still grabbing my hands but despite my now weak frame, I spent weeks or months of blocking out the sounds they threw at me, refusing to listen but then they got inside my head.

This ordeal continues for merely a few moments more before all the doctors and nurses step away, I look at them confused through my teary eyes but then relief washes over my face as a familiar figure walks through the door. Finnick. He rushes towards me followed behind by a few others who run to other patients.

He wraps his arms around me but my hands still don’t budge from my ears until he reaches his hands up and places them on top of mine. His hands are calloused but somehow still soft, the corners of my lips upturn slightly before returning to the straight line.

He’s talking but I can’t hear him until he turns around and I assume yells at the doctors as they quickly scurry out of the room leaving only us and the other patients. He turns back and his eyes are on mine. He’s always had the most beautiful eyes, the green specks in the sea of his eyes, even if I forgot Finnick I could never forget his eyes. Gently, he grips my hands and slowly pulls them away from my ears, I resist at first but then relent, relaxing my arms and letting Finnick bring them down in front of us. He places a soft kiss on each of my hands before laying them down on the bed.

Leaning forward towards me he wraps his arms around my frail body, gently, careful not to hurt me. I rest my head on his shoulder before burying my face into the crook of his neck and wrapping my arms around his neck. My breathing is short and quick as I feel my tears dampen Finn’s shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The warmth of another human is a feeling I have not felt for a while, it seems like forever. I can’t even remember how long ago it was I last saw Finnick but it was too long ago separated by what felt like years of constant torture.

He pulls back but his hands remain gently resting on my waist as I’m sat up in the hospital bed. He places his forehead on my mine and closes his eyes whilst I mimic his movements. This was something we always did, before we got separated and repeating our little ritual brings back not only happy memories but the most important and meaningful ones. 

“You’re okay now,” Finn says quietly, his forehead still resting on mine. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He says and even with everything that had happened recently, I believe him entirely. I nod slightly and gently as I can’t bring myself to say anything. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, it takes a couple of tries to finally get the simple words out. Finn chuckles softly.

“I’m okay. You’re the one you should be worried about.” He says leaning back slightly to look at me. “How are you feeling?” He says now holding onto my hands again.

“Fine.” I croak out.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“What?”

“Anything.”

“No more than normal,” I say as an attempt at sarcasm but he only responds with a pair of sad eyes and a discouraged face. Silence fills the room for a couple of seconds but the sound of the machines hasn’t stopped. “When can I leave?” I say, my head drooping slightly at the high drug dosage.

“Not yet.” He says pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely looking at my disappointed expression. 

“I missed you so much…” I say quietly, placing my head on his chest. “The hope that you were alive and waiting for me somewhere was what kept me going.” I say, getting tearful again.

“I will always wait for you no matter where or when.”

-

AN: I know everyone's in their Hunger Games phase right now so I thought I'd contribute even though I'm in my Hunger Games phase all the time.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Requests: Please note these will be likely shorter than my longer requests (I say that but you all know me 😂). These cannot contain a lot of specifics or anything like that. Rather, it’s a simple concept and a character. Limit is 1 request per follower for this option given the time it’ll take to do these.

what about finnick odair x wife!reader where he has to go back to the games and she waits for him and they reunite back in 13 and she is glued to his side during their time there cause she's afraid to lose him and it's like hurt comfort and fluffy <333

Heartbreak’s Cure : Finnick Odair x Reader

Descr: 5k wc, Finnick and his wife reunite in District 13 after Finnick returns from his second Hunger Games and they help each other through the aftermath of him being reaped a second time. Hurt-comfort, flangst

Warnings: hunger game type content and applicable warnings, trauma, sadness, mentions of Mag’s death, mentions of Finnick’s background (including brief mention of Snow selling his body).

“Finnick!”

“Fin!”

“Y/n?”

“Honey?!”

“Fin!”

The couple’s screaming continued as they raced toward the sound of the other’s voice.

Y/n sprinted around the corner of the dull gray slabbed walls of the medical corridor when her eyes finally caught sight of who she’d been searching for; her husband. The air left her lungs and her body abruptly halted upon seeing him.

Finnick had been bolting down the hallway when y/n suddenly appeared as she turned the corner. He briefly paused in breathless relief before he once again began charging towards his wife.

Y/n copied Finnick’s needy rush and ran straight into his extended arms. She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he lifted her up. She hooked her legs around his waist as he held her to him so tight it was difficult to breathe. But she couldn’t care less. He was alive! He was home!

Finnick spun them around as he closed his eyes and admired the way it felt to be able to hold his loving wife once again. “Hi love,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hi Finny,” y/n whimpered. “Are you alright?” She asked, leaning back against the supportive hold he had on her tailbone so she could see him.

“I’m perfectly fine now y/n/n,” Finnick vowed, pulling her back to him and protectively holding her tight in his arms. He was so relieved his sweet wife was okay. That Snow hadn’t been able to harm her before she’d made it to District 13.

After a heartfelt kiss between them, y/n pulled away as her worry took over. “Let me take a look at you,” y/n pressed, not believing Finnick‘s well meaning reassurance. She again leaned back while staying in his arms, her legs still around his waist as he held her up. She frowned as her eyes noticed the multitude of scratches along his face. “Liar,” she whispered with a pout.

Finnick chuckled lightly. Damn he had missed her.

Y/n hopped down from Finnick’s arms and grabbed his bicep. “C’mere baby,” she cooed as she lead him to the nearest stretcher. “Here, sit down,” she instructed. When he complied, she kissed his forehead and gave him a warm smile. “Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts,” she commented as she quickly pulled over a tray of random medical supplies. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there any injuries I can’t see?” Y/n continued to interrogate worryingly.

“Honey,” Finnick smiled. He gently grasped y/n’s wrist as she softly tried to clean his skin.

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but I gotta clean it,” y/n explained, giving her husband a sympathetic frown.

Finnick grinned admiringly and shook his head. “It’s okay, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he explained softly. “Breathe Honey, I’m okay”. Finnick lovingly rubbed his thumb against the inner side of her wrist to soothe her.

Y/n set the washcloth down with a sigh. She wanted to help her husband. She looked around to take a quick inventory of the room. It had been awhile since she was last in this wing. Seeing a stack of cases of water bottles, she hummed and hurriedly sprinted to it. She effortlessly pulled out an unopened bottle and brought it back to Finnick with a small smile. Surely he was dehydrated! “Here, drink this, it’ll help.”

Finnick replied with a sympathetic sigh. He understood why she was fussing over him, he’d have been much worse if the roles were reversed. But, it didn’t mean he wanted her worrying so much. As such, he sipped on the water she’d passed him; not mentioning to her that on the flight back here, the nurse had hooked up an IV to help his fluids. After taking a considerable drink, he twisted the cap back on and took ahold of y/n’s hand. “Honey,” Finnick softly scolded, tugging her hand away from the water bottle as he tried to get her to stop fretting over him. “You look really good in my sweater,” he commented, changing the topic as he took notice of what his wife was wearing.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up, prompting her to bashfully look down at the stretcher’s wheels. She let her eyes flicker briefly to the sweater in question before biting her lip and slowly lifting her gaze to Finnick’s. “I.., sorry, I needed something that smelled and felt like you,” she explained.

Finnick shook his head, a prideful smile now gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize,” he commented lovingly as he tenderly guided her closer by curling his thumb resting under her chin. “Were you okay honey?”

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” y/n smiled. “That’s all that matters,” she hummed, leaning closer as she moved her hands to cup her husband’s defined cheeks.

“No, no,” Finnick argued. “How were you while I was away?” He repeated, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “What all happened? What did I miss?”

“Me,” y/n giggled with a smug smile.

Finnick chuckled, his cheeks turning a soft red. “Well that goes without saying, my dear,” he winked. After a moment of silent bliss, he turned his expression to a look that communicated he wanted her to give him an actual answer.

Y/n shrugged. She’d struggled while he’d been gone. But he didn’t need to know the depths of that. At least not right now. She knew her husband well enough to know it was futile keeping a secret from him. Even if it was for his own sake. He’d know at some point. For now though she would keep it as vague as possible without hurting his feelings by keeping it inside. “Nothing other than just worrying about you,” she murmured quietly, eyes closed.

Finnick frowned in understanding. “Oh love,” he purred, his fingers reaching out to grip the material of his her their sweater.

“I .. I got your message though,” y/n elaborated, peering into Finnick’s loving eyes.

Finnick grinned and tugged y/n closer to him. “Good,” he murmured, fingers moving to trail her cheeks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about your death like that again though, Finnick Odair,” y/n scolded in a soft voice.

Finnick chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Odair,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/n was resting beside Finnick’s medical cot in the hospital corridor of District 13 when she felt him stir. She quickly set down her notebook and faced her husband. She frowned lightly as she noticed the confused look in his eyes. He had been sleeping when the medic came in to adjust the medication dosage coursing through his veins. It had been like this off and on for the last few hours, so y/n hadn’t paid much mind to it until she felt him stir beside her in response to it.

Finnick tried to keep the tears from building up in his eyes as he tried to scoot away from whoever the person was beside him. He had thought he made it back to y/n, to District 13. But he didn’t remember being put under and upon opening his eyes he saw a nurse-like figure standing before him in a medical room so clearly he’d been dreaming. Of course he had. He’d been dreaming of his precious wife and making it back to her ever since he’d been reaped for the second time. He didn’t recall anything after the arena collapsing in on him. He thought he had, but he had clearly been dreaming of those events. So he figured he must’ve been captured after their attempt to escape the games. As such, he presumed this nurse before him was from The Capitol. It was the only explanation for why his wife wasn’t by his side when he thought he’d reconnected with her earlier. Hence why he began resisting the medic’s attempts to adjust whatever they were pumping into his body through the IV in his right arm.

“No, no, no, no, no, hey,” y/n rushed out, turning to face Finnick more directly. “Finnick? Hi, I've got you,” she informed him as his frantic eyes darted to her face. “You're safe. Finnick, can you hear me?” She asked, noticing the distant look in his sea-green eyes. “They're here to help you, you need to let them help you,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand.

Finnick’s eyes snapped down to his hand as he felt a squeeze. He looked back up at y/n and gazed into her eyes as the pieces returned to him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had escaped the games. He’d made it back to y/n. She’d been beside him the whole time. He just hadn’t looked to his left upon waking up.

“That’s it, babe,” y/n cooed encouragingly. “They are just helping your body heal,” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Finnick hummed in relief. His hands moved to wrap around his wife. He held onto her as he tried desperately to not cry against her shoulder. He was home. He was back with his girl.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Finnick pouted playfully. To emphasize his point, he stretch his right hand and the attached IV over his lap to poke y/n’s side.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at her husband in question. She’d been giving him plenty of attention. In fact, she was certain he had to be growing tired of her constant presence and fussing over him. “You need more attention?” She questioned knowingly.

Finnick nodded with a smug smile. “From you? Always,” he grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly as her cheeks flushed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

Finnick resumed playing with y/n’s hand he was holding. “The luckiest,” he agreed proudly.

Y/n simply bashfully bit her lip and buried her head against Finnick’s bicep as it rested on his cot.

“I’m tired of laying here in this stupid bed though,” Finnick said to explain his earlier comment.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed. She lifted her head off his arm to look down at him.

“I want to go home,” Finnick said, almost whining.

Y/n frowned. “I know, I do too,” she acknowledged. “But, Finnick, we have to stay in District Thirteen until it’s safe to go back,” she reminded him cautiously.

Finnick shook his head. “I know, I didn’t mean home-home”.

“What?”

“Not as in District Four,” Finnick elaborated. “While that would be nice,” he hummed, “I meant wherever it is here that our home is now, wherever you spend your nights”.

Y/n smiled adoringly at her husband. “Let me go ask them again when you can leave, I doubt it’s changed, but if you promise me you’re feeling okay, I’ll try to persuade them,” she offered.

“I promise,” Finnick nodded with an appreciative smile. He tugged y/n’s hand back just as she went to head towards the hallway, “but be quick”. When her head whipped around quickly, her eyes full of concern, he blushed before hurriedly explaining his thoughts. “‘Cause I missed you,” he whispered shyly, grinning again when his wife kissed the top of his head lovingly.

Y/n closed the door to their bedroom behind her as she and Finnick entered the hall. She turned towards her husband with a timid smile. They were about to head out for a light stroll so she could show him around. “Can I hold your hand?” She requested quietly, needing to physically feel his presence to remind her he was here after so long.

Finnick smiled, “you never gotta ask, sugar”. He kissed his wife’s warm cheek. “But, I have a better idea”.

“Which is?”

“Piggy back ride?"

“Finnick,” y/n scolded, shaking her head. “You should be taking it easy,” she reminded him. When he playfully rolled his eyes, she glared protectively back at him.

Finnick hummed and took ahold of y/n’s hands. “I promise I’m fine, honey. I wouldn’t put you through dealing with the aftermath if I wasn’t,” he promised.

Despite Finnick having convinced y/n he was able to give her a piggy back ride, she wasn’t done being protective over him. She’d just gotten her husband back! She wasn’t about to let something happen to him! As such, she had been doing everything under the sun to protect him from even minor things like loud noises, bright lights, etc.

Finnick knew what y/n was doing and her reasoning behind it. So, he’d complied with her wishes and heeded her warnings, all while smiling bashfully. He was beyond appreciative of his wife’s considerate measures. And he found her actions insanely cute.

They couple had taken a quick break so y/n could help one of District 13’s other residents find the supplies closet. Luckily the room was nearby, so she was not away from her husband for more than a handful of minutes. However, when she returned, she was less than pleased. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Y/n hissed at Mike, one of District 13’s leaders. He was evidently having her husband help him move some boxes of equipment. Y/n knew the boxes with the particular symbol that was on the one Finnick had been about to pick up were often pretty heavy. It was certainly not something Finnick should be doing right now! “He just got back, have Gale help you with carrying that!” She critiqued with a harsh glare.

Finnick sucked in his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh lightly or smile at y/n’s behavior. He shrugged minimally at the man beside him before he made his way over to his wife. “I’m okay, angel,” he cooed in a hushed voice so only she could hear.

Y/n nodded silently in response to Finnick’s reassurance. She gave Mike another sharp glance and then took her husband’s hand and led him away from the room.

Finnick froze momentarily before he stiffly turned to face y/n. They’d been eating lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria when he suddenly heard her sniffle. Why was she crying? “Are… are... are these good tears? Or bad tears?" He asked quietly. He only got a hum in response, making his brows furrow further. “Y/n?”

“Both”.

“Both?”

Y/n nodded. When she felt Finnick’s worried eyes on her, she shrugged. “Bad cause I missed you and I was so worried,” she explained. “But, good cause you’re home now”. She knew she was speaking in broken sentences, but it was the best she could do right now without breaking down from her emotions.

“Sugar,” Finnick whined sympathetically. “My sweet girl.. I’m so sorry-”.

Y/n rapidly shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Finny,” she whispered lovingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to. I just, I don’t know I just…”

“Shhh...just let me hold you,” Finnick instructed warmly. He knew how to make his wife feel better. He grinned as she wasted no time sliding down the bench to him and snuggling up. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

“Promise?”

Finnick swore his heart both soared and broke over the sweet but scared tone of y/n’s voice. “I promise angel,” he vowed, smiling to himself as she buried herself in his hold even further.

“No, no, you need to lie still,” y/n instructed as Finnick yet again fidgeted. There were resting in their shared bed, almost about to fall asleep when he’d begun tossing and turning.

Finnick turned to face his patient wife’s beautiful face. He batted his long eyelashes at her. “Baby, could you play with my hair?” He requested in a gentle whisper. He closed Jo’s eyes as y/n instantly complied with his wish. “That feels so nice,” he murmured.

“Good,” y/n smiled, her fingers dancing through Finnick’s sun-dyed golden locks.

“I missed you,” Finnick whispered blissfully.

Y/n smirked playfully. “You missed my fingers in your hair,” she teased.

“No,” Finnick argued, holding y/n’s wrist to stop her playing with his hair for a moment. He turned his head to look up at her. “I’m serious, I missed you,” he replied with a frown.

“Hmmm, I know sweetheart,” y/n informed her husband, craning her neck to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

“I was so worried about you,” Finnick admitted as his mind went back to his worries over y/n’s wellbeing during his time in the arena.

“I’m never letting you go again,” y/n declared warmly. She tightened her grip around Finnick’s chest as he peered up at her at an angle from where he lay on her torso. “Snow will have to pry you from my dead arms. No one is going to hurt you anymore Finnick,” she spoke protectively.

“Hmm,” Finnick hummed as he inched his way up. He kissed her head lightly before lowering himself back down to use her as a pillow. “Don’t talk like that, honey,” he scolded lovingly. “I’m not losing you either.” He closed his eyes as he turned so his cheek was pressed up against her chest. “We’ll finish this out together, that’s the only option. Okay?”

“Okay,” y/n agreed quietly as she hugged Finnick tightly. “Now, sleep, my love. I'll keep you safe."

Y/n woke abruptly as she felt her husband tossing around beside her in bed. Her eyes snapped opened as she heard his whispered cries. A frown instantly formed on her face as she quickly sat up and turned to face Finnick. She softly shook him. “Finnick.. It’s me, it’s y/n. It's okay, it was just a dream." When his eyes finally opened, they were wide and watery as they analyzed their bedroom. “You're not there, Finnick. You're home, you're safe,” she promised, being able to read his worries without needing any verbal explanation as to what he’d been afraid of.

“Fuck, I …,” Finnick winced slightly, hating that he’d cursed in front of his dear wife. He was also so proper around her, declaring she was too precious to hear such profanities. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He felt horrible for having woken her. He knew how tired she’d been from sleepless nights as she waited for him to return. She should be asleep… not taking care of him and his nightmares. He knew she didn’t mind, she’d helped him through similar ones countless times before. But still, she should be resting. “I’m sorry.., I didn’t… I was back at the-,” he began rambling quietly.

Y/n nodded quickly and squeezed his clammy hand. “It’s okay, I know sweetheart,” she cut him off so he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. “What do you need? What can I do for you right now Finny?”

Finnick’s shiny eyes lifted to meet his wife’s compassionate face and he gave her a timid smile. “I just want to be held for a little while. I’ve missed your touch,” he murmured.

Y/n smiled warmly and opened her arms. “Come here baby,” she instructed as she pulled Finnick to her chest.

Finnick shuffled down the bed so he could rest his head back on y/n’s chest. Like he’d done hours ago, before he’d moved to her side so they could sleep. “Like I expected, you're much comfier than my pillow,” he muttered softly as he nuzzled into her.

Y/n grinned and craned her neck in order to kiss Finnick’s scalp.

Finnick’s fingers played with the material of y/n’s sleep top. “D-do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” He questioned hesitantly. He wanted her to sleep, but he really needed this.

“We can stay like this as long as you want sweetheart.”

Finnick hummed in relief and snuggled against y/n further. His eyes began to become heavy again, but he kept blinking to stay awake.

“I'll protect you. They've never going to touch you again,” y/n promised, playing with Finnick’s hair the way he adored and always seemed to soothe him. As she noticed his eyes looking tired, she slowed her combing movements slightly. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now”.

Y/n futilely tried to pull her muscular husband away from the cracked door. They’d been on their daily walk when they passed by the mission center which happened to have it’s door slightly parted. However, it was what had been playing on the screen inside the room and the sounds it caused to float into the hallway that caught Finnick’s attention. The crew in the mission center had seemingly been reviewing various clips from the latest games. Unfortunately, it turned out they happened to be passing by just as Mag’s death began to play.

“No,” Finnick argued weakly against y/n’s attempts to pull him away. “I deserve to watch this,” he croaked. “I caused it, I need to live with the pain of that”.

Y/n gritted her jaw and furrowed her brows. She had to keep her anger in check. She wasn’t mad at Finnick, just at his statement. Her precious husband didn’t deserve any of the atrocities he’d had to endure. “You've suffered through enough,” y/n declared firmly but kindly, pulling her husband’s head to her shoulder. She whispered loving words to him as she lead them down the hall and back to their room.

As they reached the doorway to their bedroom, Finnick pulled back. His eyes were red and dripping, lips in a deep frown, and nose scrunched. “I also failed before the games, I didn’t make sure you had a safety plan in place,” he argued.

“Finnick, you had Haymitch make sure I was picked up and taken here, too District Thirteen before the games even began, for my safety,” y/n argued. “Besides, sweetheart, that’s not your job. And I’m fine, please don’t burden yourself with that”.

Finnick shook his head. “I should’ve found a way to tell Mags the plan,” he sighed. “I should’ve found a way out of letting Snow sell my body,” he added. “Katniss had me in her crosshairs early on, I didn’t train enough after the last games”. “I promised you that I’d never let you down but I did”.

”Finnick Odair,” y/n gasped. “Look at me.” Once he finally met her gaze, she presented him with a small smile and a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you”. She shook her head inside the crook of his neck. “Seriously, none of those things are true or your fault”. “You have always had so many things working against you, Finnick. I’ve always been so proud of you, even without taking that into account. But you need to. I’m so proud of you baby, you did what you had to do and came back to me! I know it wasn’t easy by any means,” she hummed, “but you did it. I didn’t lose you. And that’s because of you. I’m so proud. I’m infinitely sorry you had to go through all of that, but I’m so proud of you coming home to me”.

Finnick whimpered appreciatively and pulled y/n closer to him. He’d missed this. He’d needed her. He never wanted to be apart from her ever again. His sweet wife was his everything. If he had her, he’d be able to heal from his pain of the latest games.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I'm here if or when you want to,” y/n offered quietly as she and Finnick sat at the table for a late lunch. They’d been eating when someone who had passed by mentioned something to their friend about the latest games. Y/n had noticed the way Finnick tensed immediately. She figured he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but wanted him to know he could whenever he was.

Y/n had been correct. Finnick hadn’t been ready yesterday afternoon to talk about his experiences in the arena this past time. But, tonight he seemingly was. It was brought up unexpectedly, but she was pleased he felt comfortable and stable enough to begin talking about it.

Finnick had expressed several thoughts about his experiences in the arena when a question came to his tired mind. “Did… Did you watch?” He asked quietly as y/n helped him undress due to his fatigued state. He watched as she hesitated in her movements for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted quietly. She lifted Finnick’s shirt over his head and tossed it towards the bin. “I… didn’t really want to,” she admitted, “I hated that you had to go, to do that all again”. She sighed and her fingers trailed down to help him step out of his jeans. “But I needed to know you were okay,” she explained slowly, “and I wanted to be able to understand what you went through.,. As much as possible that is, of course…” She helped hold him steady as he removed his pants. “That way if you didn’t want to talk about it or needed someone to understand slightly more than I would’ve without watching it…,” she rambled.

Finnick turned to face y/n, a tender smile on his lips. “You..,” he shook his head, “sugar, you’re far too sweet, you didn’t need to put yourself through that. But I appreciate you doing so and being so considerate of my potential needs to begin with”. He kissed her forehead delicately.

As Finnick began to try to help y/n undress for the night, she shook her head lovingly and stopped him. He was so exhausted. He didn’t need to help her tonight. “I’ve got it baby, you’re tired,” she spoke softly.

“I want to,” Finnick argued quietly, “if you’re okay with that! I don’t-”.

Y/n nodded quickly to silence Finnick’s worries. “I am, Finny. Just don’t want you overdoing it,” she mused, kissing his cheek.

Finnick hummed and resumed his efforts to help y/n out of her day clothes. “Is there… was there anything you saw that you want to talk about?” He asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment. But, upon meeting Finnick’s genuinely curious eyes, she sighed. “…l heard you crying my name,” she said, thinking back to the moment she’d watched her husband crumple to the floor of the arena in agony.

Finnick gave y/n a sympathetic smile, sensing her worry and needless guilt. “I just needed to hear your voice, to know you weren’t actually hurt,” he explained. “I know they were fake. But.. you were…? You’re alright?”

Y/n nodded and grabbed Finnick’s hands from her shoulder and squeezed them. “I was just upset I couldn’t be there to reassure you I was fine,” she informed him. “But, I wasn’t hurt. Do you want to tell me about what it was like, babe? Get it off your chest?"

Finnick looked away as he began to cry. “S-sorry,” he murmured quietly in apology. “I shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be crying. I.. I’m stronger than that… I’m sorry honey… I…”

“Finn,” y/n cooed. She let go of his hands and moved hers to cup his face and guide it towards her. When his eyes met hers, she gave him n a sweet smile. “Sweetheart, you never need to apologize to me. Ever. And, certainly not for crying…”.

Finnick nodded and melted into his wife’s embrace. “I… I thought it was real,” he began. “I… they copy… and it was your voice. I know it! It was so accurate! I…,” he shook, prompting y/n to rub his back soothingly. “I thought they’d hurt you.. that The Capitol.,. Snow…,” He trailed off.

“I think.. I thought about that a bunch too,” y/n murmured. “I think those sounds were made using by mixing up and splicing recordings from my games years ago, Finny.”

“I should’ve known that,” Finnick scolded himself. “I’m,” he sniffled as more tears escaped his eyes. He knew she might be watching the games and hadn’t wanted y/n to see him break down the way he had in that moment. He’d promised her he’d be strong and make it back to her. Yet all it took was some old audio clips and he’d shattered. He couldn’t deny the heartbreak he’d felt hearing her screams and cries. But he should’ve held it together. “I’m sorry.. I should’ve been stronger than that, I-“.

“No, Finnick. No,” y/n argued protectively. She leaned up and kissed his nose. “I don’t need you being strong all the time. I just need you. Vulnerabilities and all. Because that’s the real you, that’s all of you. And I love the whole real you.” She grinned as a bashful smile formed on her husband’s lips. “It’s all over now, Finny. No more having to pretend to be someone else for the cameras. You can just be yourself from now on. Just my wonderful Finnick Odair,” she cooed. As he leaned into her, she paid attention to his tears. She continued to sweetly dry them as she whispered loving words. After a few minutes, he’d stopped crying and was just resting in her embrace. “Fin, it's so good to have you home,” she whispered.

“I missed this,” Finnick confessed quietly.

“So did I.”

“You’re my happy place.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me,” y/n teased as Finnick stepped back so they could resume getting into bed for the night.

“I was away from you too long,” Finnick defended simply. “I gotta make up for the missed chances to flirt with my beautiful wife,” he winked, smirking as y/n looked away flustered.

“What can I do for you right now Finnick?” Y/n questioned as she faced him and saw his tears had returned.

“All I want is your lips against mine right now,” Finnick informed y/n. His cheeks turned brighter and brighter red until they matched the color of his teary eyes. “It sounds stupid, but I want to also physically feel your love-” he attempted to explain, feeling he needed to justify his request.

However, y/n didn’t need any reason to kiss her sweet husband. She quickly slid her hands into his hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Both y/n and Finnick cried quietly into the kiss as they moved impossibly closer to each other. It had been far too long since they felt this secure and untroubled over the other. When they pulled back, they instinctively rested their foreheads against each other’s, staring at one another. “I love you,” they whispered at the same time as they felt a small piece of their broken hearts begin to repair.

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[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Prologue

Pairing/s: undecided. Possibly Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, Weapons, Swearing, Mentions of readers family, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes, mentions of Avoxes, bad descriptions of capitol technology, (if I missed anything please tell me)

Word count: 6.0k

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She stood in line, waiting for her turn to sign in. She was 18 this year. It was her last year until she could break free and resign death in the hunger games to her mind as simply a fearful memory. The line moved slowly, a few tearful 12 year olds calling for their mothers and fathers ahead of her. She remembered being that age, her first games reaping was a terrifying one as the girl next to her was picked. She could still remember her name “Lilac Hiddleswoft.” The 12 year old girl had died minutes into the 64th hunger games, the boy from 6 had killed her in the cornucopia. She was shaken from her thoughts as she was pushed forward, the peacekeeper at the front of the line pricking her finger and signing her in quickly.

She walked to stand with the other kids her age, admiring the sullen faces of those around her. She walked in line with everyone else, stopping a few spots from the middle of the pack of teens. The morning sun was blindingly hot, the desert breeze of district 2 blew dust into the lungs of its occupants. She looked to the stage, minimalistic with a few chairs and a microphone. She wondered what the escort would wear this year. A new skin color? More jewelry embedded into her skin? Anyway, she thought it seemed silly. Her mother had undergone many “enhancements” she always found them pretty but unnecessary. She liked her body well enough, a few improvements could be made but nothing too drastic.

The mayor and a few important people walked onto the stage, mainly victors with hollow eyes or so many surgeries they looked chronically surprised. She had always thought Enobaria was attractive in her own right….minus the teeth situation. She sat together with Brutus as always on the right side of the stage.

Finally the escort came to the stage, her hair shining rainbow in the heat like an oil slick. Y/N wondered how she had gotten it that color. She would admit the woman was pretty, her dark ebony skin always flawless with the embedded gems next to her completely white eyes. Her name was furisha la’fleur, a nepotism pick from the higher ups in district 2.

Furisha finally spoke after a beat “Hello district 2!” She exclaimed in her sickly sweet voice “happy hunger games!” District 2 was more or less the lapdogs of the capitol, their support ran deep. The crowd cheered and applauded, the sudden noise almost frightening. Furisha spoke again “First we have an exciting video from our capitol and beloved president!” She smiled almost too wide as the screen flickered, playing the same video it played every year. Y/N could quote it by this point, she focused on smoothing out any wrinkles in her dress. The white fabric soft against her fingers.

The video ended with a bang, more applause thundering throughout the town square. Furisha waited a moment for the applause to calm, clapping herself while walking to the spherical bowl to her right. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” She cheered into the microphone. She looked down at the bowl, doing her signature wrist flick “Ladies first!” She announced, reaching into the bowl and stirring her hand around. She soon pulled out a thick card stock, it was tinted grey with gold embossing as an extra flourish.

She read the name and the crowd fell silent, Y/N looked around for the chosen girl. Everyone around her stared, her brows furrowed. “It’s you” the girl beside her tapped her shoulder.

It couldn’t be her, this wasn’t the plan.

Her eyes widened in horror as she was quickly pulled out of line. Two peacekeepers herded her to the stage as she stared ahead blankly. Her ears rang as she walked up the steps next to furisha. Her only hope was a volunteer now, a braver soul. Her hand unconsciously went to hold her necklace, a gift from her step father on her first reaping day. Her stare was blank and hollow, as if she had nothing behind her eyes. Her hands shook and her vision filled with static. She felt like she could pass out and never wake up.

The crowd was silent still as furisha waited a moment for any volunteers. She looked around for her siblings, once she regained herself. a safe face to stare at as the impending doom set in. Nobody spoke up to take her place, furisha gave a simple nod and moved on. Her fate was set and she could do nothing about it. A boy was chosen next, age 12. He was skinny and tall for his age.

He started towards the stage fearfully before a boy shouted from the crowd. “I volunteer as tribute!” Her eyes turned to the voice, an academy boy jogged toward the stage. He was her age, she remembered him from her play group as a child. Finch Glenn was a tall boy, at least twice her size in width. His mop of curly dark hair flicked out of his eyes as he smiled and waved at the crowd. His bronze skin covered in freckles was similar to the rest of district 2, although he was obviously the pick of the litter.

Furisha told them to hold hands as they waved to the crowd and she did as she was told, unlike her companion however she did not smile or scream to the crowd. She simply waved, still in disbelief of her situation.

After a few moments of cheering the peacekeepers finally deemed it enough. They were led into the justice building and into separate rooms. Y/N’s family wasn’t poor but they certainly weren't rich either, she had never seen such fine furniture and decor.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers across the blue velvet couch, the buttons on the cushions were gold and caught her eye. She looked around the room, it was made of dark wood with marble floors. Paintings of different men hung on the wall, peacekeepers? The capitol elite? She had no idea who they were. She walked to a cabinet by the door, a plant sat atop it with luscious green vines hanging the edges. She gently examined one of the leaves, the vibrant green was beautiful.

A knock came from the door and it opened, 4 people rushing inside. All at once her mother and sister were hugging her, the former crying hysterically. They pleaded for her to stay alive, petting her hair and kissing her cheeks. It didn’t feel real, was this really happening?

Her step father stood in the corner of the room, it was clear that he had been crying. Their eyes met and he crumpled into himself a bit. Her mother captured her attention next. “You can be my brave girl can’t you baby?” She asked, talking to her like a small child. She couldn’t blame her mother, she knew the situation must be torture. Her mother had already seen the death of her husband and she couldn’t imagine the dread of losing a child.

Her brother hugged her next “you can win” he whispered simply to her, kissing her cheek for the first time in either of their lives. Her mother clung to her side, just wanting to hold her hand until the end of their time together.

Her stepfather walked to her, a sad smile on his face. “I can’t promise I’ll see you again so I need to tell you this now” he spoke softly “I need you to know how loved you are. You aren’t mine biologically but you’ll always be mine in here.” He pointed to his heart. “Your mother, your brother and sister and I will always be cheering you on. We love you more than anything.” *he said as tears came to his eyes.

He reached around her neck, unclasping the necklace he had once given her and putting it in his pocket. He then brought out a spherical pendant, it looked as if it was made from bronze. He stuck his nail under a small seam and it unfolded, a locket showing all 4 members of her family, her late father and herself. “We might not see you again” he repeated, closing the locket and holding it up to put it around her neck. “But I wanted you to be able to see us” he explained, fastening the clasp. “I had this made in case this ever happened and I’m so sorry you have to be the one to receive it sweetheart.” He said as tears fell from his cheeks.

Her sister let out a small whimper, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She was hanging back a bit from the rest of the family as Y/N was saying goodbye, no usual biting comments or banter. “you…. you better come home.” She choked out. she was trying to play off her emotions as usual, “who else am i supposed to fight over dumb stuff with?” She said with a sob. Y/N’s brother hugged her sister tight as she broke down.

Y/N’s family surrounded her, hugging and kissing her. She was determined to stay strong, she knew if she cried now it would only make things worse.

After a few minutes a few peacekeepers arrived at the door, it was time to say goodbye one final time. She kissed her mother’s cheek and hugged her siblings tight. She gave her step father a kiss on the cheek as well and as suddenly as they arrived they were gone.

She broke down seconds after the door closed, sobbing into the cushions of that blue velvet couch. She wanted her mother to come back, she wanted her sister to tell her to “man up” like usual. She sobbed for as long as tears could fall from her eyes and longer.

She had no idea how long she’d been in that room. 15 minutes? An hour? It didn’t matter. She was soon taken out of the room and down a long hallway. Finch joined her quickly and walked with confidence. His goodbye was not one of tears but of encouragement and words like “see you soon.” They set foot outside and were led to a train that would take them to the capitol. It was sleek and silver, just a long tube without any inclination that there were separate cars.

People screamed and cameras flushed as they walked, her senses overwhelmed. Finch waved and preened while she just walked quietly and quickly to the entrance. She stepped on and was in awe, it was beautiful. Crystal chandeliers glittered and food was spread over the redwood table in the center of the car.

She walked in further, Furisha sat in one of the chairs chatting with Brutus and Enobaria. They stood up at the entrance of the tributes, smiles on their faces. “Congratulations!” Furisha said in her usual almost condescending manner, Enobaria nodded at her with pity and Brutus simply ignored her in favor of Finch.

She was ushered to sit down, food being placed in front of her. “Eat, please” Furisha motioned. “You’ll need your strength for the games” she smiled. Finch dug in immediately and she grabbed a fork. This food was frivolously and immaculately decorated but delicious nonetheless. She ate her fill of the pasta in front of her, the sauce was purple and the noodles were green. It tasted of chicken and some sort of seasoning she couldn’t quite describe. It was cheesy and rich with a few leaves of spinach sprinkled throughout.

She sat back when she had finished, the table was filled with chatter. She listened a bit but soon grew tired of the unimportant conversation about the wig Furisha wanted to wear to the tributes parade. “could I be excused to go to bed please?” She interjected at a moment of silence. Furisha smiled and motioned for an avox to lead her to her room. “Of course you can, my darling” she replied, “but meet here in the dining room so you can strategize in the morning alright? We have a schedule to keep.” She requested. Y/N nodded quickly, standing and looking at the awaiting avox.

He led her to a large room, so large in fact that she wondered if it took up a whole car. The bed was covered in pillows and blankets, a canopy of thin silk like material covering it. The avox opened the closet, setting a black fluffy towel on the dresser in front of her. She presumed this meant he was asking if she wanted to shower. “Yes please” she answered softly, earning a nod from the man. He led her to the bathroom, it was made of sleek pink marble with bronze metal used for any trimmings. She took the towel in her arms and the man bowed at the door, closing it and leaving her alone once more. She took her shoes off, the heels clicking together as she picked them up off the floor and set them on the shelf by the door.

Next she unzipped her dress, stepping out of it and hanging it up neatly before stripping the rest of her underthings as well. She looked at the shower before her curiously, it was operated by a panel of buttons instead of a dial. She pressed a button, selecting hot water and a mode that reminded her of the monsoon rains back home. Stepping in she instantly relaxed as she felt the boiling water, closing her eyes she stood under the spray and took a moment to breathe. The water burned her skin in a comforting way, she smiled to herself as she enjoyed the small luxury.

She took her time, washing her hair with the expensive shampoos and conditioners and choosing the scent of peaches to scrub her body. After she was satisfied she stepped out, wrapping herself in the warm embrace of the towel she was given. She looked in the mirror pondering momentarily that it had no fog before it lit up with options.

“Electric hair dryer?” She said aloud to herself, touching the option. Immediately a small current of electricity flowed through her arm, drying her hair into a silky smooth texture. She smiled as she marveled at the technology, touching another option that popped out a small mouth guard that would supposedly brush her teeth.

A moment later she deemed she had truly enjoyed what used to be a simple bathing experience, walking out to the room she was provided in her towel. She saw a new outfit laying on the covers of the bed, black Satin pajamas, new underwear and thick socks. She ran her fingers over the fabric for a moment before putting the outfit on, it was incredibly comfortable.

She climbed into the impossibly soft bed, swaddled in warmth. She was physically the most comfortable she had ever been, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from racing around her head like jabberjays fighting over a worm. She picked up the remote from the nightstand, dimming the lights. she also pressed a button that had a cricket on it out of curiosity, the sound immediately playing quietly throughout her room along with wind and the sounds of swaying foliage.

Somehow that night she managed to sleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day lulled her to unconsciousness.

The next morning she awoke early, sliding out of the bed and tidying it up out of habit. She was exhausted but sleep avoided her grasp for any longer, the stress making it impossible. After a few moments of trying to perfect the messy covers she padded over to the large closet. The small room was full of elegant and colorful clothes, she ran her hand across one of the racks and admired the different styles.

She chose a comfortable forest green sweater with gold buttons and wide leg black pants, she slid on comfortable ballet shoes before deciding she looked well enough to go to breakfast. She grabbed the mouth guard-like device and let it brush her teeth before fluffing her hair in the mirror. The door to her room slid open automatically as she stepped up to it.

She walked down the long hallway to the dining room car, her hands wringing themselves together anxiously. Brutus sat in the car alone, sipping a steaming mug. “Oh it’s you” he muttered as he noticed her presence “I didn’t expect you to be up this early” he remarked as She stood awkwardly in the doorway “I can come back later if you want” she offered, uneasy at the thought of disturbing him. He had always made her a bit nervous, his gaze was sharp and unsettling.

He shook his head “No it’s ok, come sit” he motioned to the soft plush chairs around him “coffee?” He asked, setting his cup down. She shook her head, Her mother had let her have coffee a few times during celebrations but she had never liked the taste, it was definitely acquired. “It’s not my thing” she said as she walked across the car, sitting a few seats away from him. “I’ve never been able to get over how bitter it is.” she recalled, her nose scrunching a bit at the memory.

He gave a small chuckle, picking up a tablet and pressing a few buttons. “Do you like chocolate?” He asked as he presumably ordered a drink for her on the device. She nodded her head, she had had it a few times but it wasn’t a staple in her home. “You’ll like this then” he concluded as he set the device down again, looking at her once more.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “You’re pretty” he observed “you look like you might be quick too” he said while studying her. “Can you run fast?” She was a bit taken aback by the question but quickly replied “I-I think I’m average” she stuttered out. He narrowed his eyes at the reply “what weapons have you trained with?” He pried, trying to get a good picture of her strengths “I'm not an academy student” she said, almost embarrassed. she chewed her lip nervously and continued “I have no experience with anything besides helping my mama chop vegetables for dinner”

his head tilted a bit at that point “So long range is better for you” he concluded. “Spears or pitchforks maybe” he sipped his coffee again, sitting back in his chair. “You won’t have to get close to kill, no hand to hand combat.” She didn’t know much about fighting, a few squabbles with her siblings and friends sure but she wasn’t a born killer. The thought of fighting other people scared her a bit, murder was a thing that had never occurred to her to commit.

Soon an avox appeared with a mug of her, the creamy hazelnut colored liquid swirled with cream. It smelled wonderful and she quickly took a sip. It was warm and rich, with a smooth cocoa flavor and a hint of cinnamon that reminded her of home. “Oh my god” she said, a delight present on her face as she sipped. At that exact moment the door slip open and Enobaria sauntered in “you gave her hot chocolate didn’t you?” She smiled as she sat next to her colleague. He nodded with a faint grin and she seemed pleased to watch the young girl enjoy herself.

“How are you feeling today? Are you nervous?” Enobaria asked, she had a commanding presence about her, reminding Y/N of an older sister or that aunt that scares you a bit. Y/N nodded slowly “I’m…..scared” she said softly and Enobaria nodded understandably. “It’ll be a lot I won’t lie-“ she stated, her own coffee being brought to her by a female avox “but as your mentor I’ll be right here with you. I’ll teach you to dismember with the best of them” She said as she smiled, a glint of mischief in her eye.

The morning went by quickly after the interaction with Finch waking up and breakfast being served. They ate their fill in pastries, assorted meats, cheeses and especially hot chocolate. Brutus and Enobaria began their mentorship discussions with their tributes after their meal. They closely studied both their strengths and weaknesses determining what they should and should not do in specific scenarios. Furisha fluttered about the train at the same time, throwing in bits of opinions and comments about decor and manners. Y/N was almost overwhelmed by the time lunch was served, thoughts swirling around her head of strategies and sponsorships. Unfortunately the reward of a break would not be provided.

The train sped into the Capitol, the tall buildings dwarfing the train she had thought was gigantic just moments prior. She was glued to the window taking in the sights around her, the glistening statues and sleek structures she had read about in book. The train soon turned into the station, crowds of people gathered at the platform. Some smiled at her with artificial golden or black teeth while some shouted and screamed.

All she could do was stare at the crowd until a voice interrupted her thoughts. “They’d like you better if you smiled and waved, gotta make a good impression.” She whipped her head around only to see Finch, the broad boy walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, waving and smiling. “I don’t want to be enemies ok?” He told her “We might die in there and it’s better to have a friend” he said looking at her with a soft gaze. He had never been mean, he just knew what he wanted and would do anything to get to his goal even as a child, they didn’t know each other very well anymore but she could tell he was still a kind young man.

“Ok…friends” she agreed quietly, plastering a fake smile on her face to wave to the crowd. She didn’t know him well enough to consider him a friend or anything close but she couldn’t afford to turn him down. There could be a time that the choice between her life and death came to his loyalties to her. She had no idea that playing the game started so much sooner before she went into the arena when she was reaped, a shame she had to learn.

After lunch the two disembarked from the train, the crowds throwing smiles and flowers their way. They were driven to a large building soon after and surrounded by their own separate groups of people. Y/N knew these were the famed stylists, they were notorious for their taste and trend setting. They took her to a cubicle and stripped her clothes, starting their work instantaneously. She was doused in warm water and scrubbed with scratchy fabric and a grainy substance that made her skin feel raw.

“Time for the best part!” One of the so far anonymous stylists said to another. He pulled out what looked like a glob of honey and some paper strips. The hot gooey substance was spread on her legs, it felt strange but kind of good, the warmth sinking into her cold skin. Out of nowhere another stylist placed a sheet of the paper on the goo and ripped it off. She let out a shocked pained noise and the male stylist rolled his eyes. “Lay back and let us wax you ok? Aerith doesn’t like hair on her tributes” he snarked

She decided she hated this man, she gave him a dirty look as he continued to rip the hair from her entire lower half, then including arms and eyebrows. She wondered if Finch was being given the same treatment, probably not. Men were allowed to be hairy or hairless, a fact she despised at the current moment.

She was slathered in thick lotion, her body feeling a bit sticky and her hair was washed once again. They remarked amongst themselves that coming from a district like 2 she shouldn’t have as many split ends as she did. She rolled her eyes at the chatter as her hair was trimmed and dried, they curled it just a bit and then turned their attention to her face. They pinched, rubbed and poked at her; her pores slathered in a mask to make them unnoticeable.

She furrowed her eyebrows in discomfort as they brushed her eyelashes and washed her face. It had been hours when finally at long last the torture was over, she was put in a thin cotton gown and corralled to a darkened room with a steel table. What more could this stylist “Aerith” do to her? She wondered, cringing at the thought of any more preening from the anonymous stylists.

She layed on the table and waited, closing her eyes and listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights above.

After a while she was starting to doze off, the lack of sleep and quiet of the room calming. The door was suddenly flung open, a small woman entering. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her eyes turning to meet the woman’s gaze. “Oh yes you are a fine piece” the woman said as she walked closer and combed her wrinkled hands through Y/Ns hair.

“Thank you?” Y/N spoke, unsure of what “piece” meant, and still a bit disoriented from the entrance. The woman looked over her face, muttering about her nose and lips before their eyes met. “I am Aerith” the old woman stated, her hand falling to her side. The woman was small in stature, her skin an almost translucent white. She had bright orange hair and lavender bangs, the short curls flipping up at the nape of her neck. Her long fingernails tickled Y/Ns skin as she let them follow the lines of her neck, her unsettling yellow eyes lighting up with a smile.

“I am here to make sure you make the best impression possible and can get as many sponsors as it takes to win these games.” She smiled almost eerily “you’ll make a beautiful impression my pet, if everyone in panem doesn’t want to kill you, be you or sleep with you by the end of this week I haven’t done my job.”

Y/N gave her a bewildered look, this old woman wanted people to think that?

She didn’t have the time to ponder long as Aerith took her hand with a grin “Let's start” she stated.

She was fitted into many outfits, The dresses, suits, rompers and leotards tight on her body to show off what Aerith called “assets.” She was exhausted by the conclusion of the never ending fashion show. Her skin chafed from the sequins and gems on the garments. Luckily her outfits were finally chosen and she could be taken to her temporary home to rest. She spotted Finch as she was escorted to the car, he looked good. His hair was a bit shorter, his face clean shaven and his eyebrows plucked to perfection.

“They got to you too huh?” She asked jokingly to which he laughed “It was horrible” he remarked “I thought my skin was gonna fall off when they scrubbed me with that sugary stuff” he laughed. She grimaced “that’s all? They tore all the hair off my body except on my head!” She exclaimed and he recoiled. “Uh god that sounds awful!”

The ride back was mostly silent, Furisha meeting them as they pulled up to what they where told was the “tribute quarters.”

“You two look wonderful!” She chirped, her stilettos clicking as she motioned for them to follow. A crowd was once again cheering as they walked into the building, held back by peacekeepers. She plastered on her biggest fake smile and blew kisses to the people, walking quickly into the building. Did these people ever sleep? Would it be like this every time she left from now on until she entered the arena?

Finch was right behind her, not stalling like he had before. Y/N could tell he must be a bit tired of the fanfare, she looked back as he waved. The fatigue was evident on his face to her, to the citizens howling in the crowd however? They screamed louder and she could tell they didn’t pay any mind. Furisha led them to the elevator and pushed the button for 2. “You two are so lucky to be here this year, we just got brand new heated floors!” She cheered excitedly.

Y/N couldn’t wait to eat and get to bed, this woman was beyond exhausting. Y/N knew she meant well but the constant cheery behavior was a lot to put up with. The elevator soon stopped and revealed an oddly decorated room. The chairs looked like they were made of children’s building blocks and the couch had a strange plush roof on it.

Furisha told them they could go to their rooms or explore until dinner, their stylists would be joining them. Y/N almost groaned when she heard the statement. Aerith was not exactly the most warm and cuddly person. She wished she could have someone to talk to, she missed whispering jokes to her brother at the dinner table and the way her sister would pick out her clothes because she had “bad tastes”

She was shown to her new room by an avox, a dinner outfit already in her arms. It was a simple black dress, long enough to reach her knees with tulle sleeves. She asked politely for the mute woman to place the dress on the chair by the vanity in the room. The woman nodded, draping the dress over the chair and bowing before leaving the room.

She flopped onto the plush bed face first, sighing and contemplating what to do until dinner. She looked around the room she occupied. The walls were a red oxide color, a common color in her district. The bedspread and sheets were black and all of the metal in the room was gold. She looked to the window in the room, watching the people walk around outside. She wondered if she could be seen but quickly realized she definitely could not. She spotted a remote on the nightstand, a small smile coming to her face. She plucked it off the table and looked at the buttons like the night before. She pressed one and the window suddenly changed to a cityscape, another and she saw the forest. She grinned wider as she fiddled with the small electronic, nearly dropping it as the scene changed to a desert plane. Her heart jumped as she heard the familiar sounds of soft winds and animals skittering.

A knock sounded on her door a moment later. “Come in!” She said loudly, sitting up on the bed and pressing the button to turn the window back to normal. She willed the tears away from her eyes and pushed the homesickness down in her stomach. The Cotton gown she wore bunched up around her knees as she sat and watched the door open.

Finch poked his head in and waved “Hey” he said simply. She offered a small smile “Hi” she said in return.“Wanna come explore the bookshelves before dinner?” He asked, opening the door wider, revealing his dress shirt and black slacks. She nodded and stood, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “gimme a second to change and I’ll meet you by the freaky couch” she affirmed as she walked to pick up the dress that lay in waiting. He smiled wider and gave her a thumbs up, closing the door again.

She quickly changed into the black dress, the sleeves were a bit itchy but otherwise it was quite comfortable. She put a black headband in her hair that had been sitting on the vanity, assuming it went with the dress. Looking down at her feet she wiggled her toes, searching through one of the drawers and finding a pair of black ankle socks. She took the cotton gown she had been wearing and draped it on the bed. With how much she was attended to she was sure it would probably be gone by the time she returned.

The door slid open upon her approach and she walked into the living room area, the lights outside the window sparkling like stars. She spotted Finch lounging on the strange couch, giggling to herself. “You look like a villain in a book” she remarked with a small smile “but I think that couch would do that to anyone” she chuckled.

He laughed loudly, standing to meet her. “Better not say that to Brutus” he whispered teasingly and she smiled again. “Because it’s kinda true” He smiled as she laughed. He led her to a few large bookshelves that were filled to the brim. Cloth bound and leather books lined the shelves with different titles shown on the spines.

She traced her fingers across the spines, looking up at the large shelves. She had never seen so many fine books, district 2 had books yes but many were tattered or dirty. Finch looked to where her gaze had settled, speaking quietly “they’re pretty huh?” He observed. She stood on her toes, reaching for a book she recognized. Her fingers grazed the leather of the green spine and she hopped to reach it. Suddenly she was up in the air, face to face with the book. She let out a startled noise, looking down and seeing Finch. He smiled as he held her on his bicep and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” She asked, astonished at his strength. She hadn’t had someone pick her up so easily in a while. “You looked like you needed a hand” he stated simply, motioning at the book. She grabbed the book quickly, looking back down at his smiling face. He set her down as gently as he scooped her up, taking care to make sure she was steady on her feet.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers barely brushing the book she held. She showed him the title “ Edible plants and where to find them.” It read in gold embossed cursive writing, little flowers and leafy greens surrounding it. “My siblings and I studied this in school” she started “we all had the same teacher and she taught us where to find a few things” she said, a soft smile on her features from the memory.

“Read it to me?” He requested, nodding his head to the strange shaped couch. She looked over and thought for a moment, was this him trying to be her friend? Trying to be an ally? It didn’t matter, she needed a small comfort in this place. She walked to the couch and sat, opening the book and looking at the pictures.

The two read for a few moments, discussing their favorite spices, fruits and vegetables from home. They discovered how much they had in common, they both loved summer fruits and how the plum trees would bloom in spring.

Soon enough Furisha called them for dinner, they were served a chicken dish on a bed of rice. It was smothered in a spicy red sauce and had just the right amount of herbs. The sides where just as immaculate, a mix of salads and sautéed vegetables. Furisha explained the next day’s schedule over dinner, the tribute parade and their first opportunity for sponsorship. Y/N felt nervousness bubble up in her chest. The thought of so many people watching her was exciting and terrifying simultaneously.

Dessert was served while the conversation progressed, a chocolate cake with fruit and vanilla ice cream. Y/N felt goosebumps when the sweetness hit her taste buds. Finch groaned in delight at the flavor and they looked at eachother with small smiles. Furisha clapped rapidly “Oh you two are so cute! I can already see how great the alliance will be in the arena!” She chirped. The comment made the two teens frown, they silently ate their sweet treat.

The stylists talked with furisha for a while after that, talking about what looks the two would wear the next day. They planned their hair and makeup, their entrances and everything in between.

The tributes were sent to bed early that night, told they “had a big day tomorrow” as they were handed off to avoxes and sent to their rooms after dinner. Y/N was glad to be allowed a bit of silence, she took the book to her room stealthy. A set of silk pajamas was laid out for her, thick socks on the side.

She changed out of her dinner dress and got into bed, setting the window screen to the desert scene. She snuggled into the soft bed and cracked open the book, soon falling into sleep with the pages open on her lap.

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

[lilmaymayy]

ya girls sick so any sick fic recs would be amaze😍😍😍

[green-typewriterz]

finnick odair horse riding fic. put that man in a polo shirt put that man on the beach with a pony

The sand was never real but we pretended it was

Finnick Odair x gn!reader Summary: you and Finnick spend time together before the 75th games are announced, going horseriding and trying to stay away from the cameras Warnings: fluff. Pretty much pure fluff word count: 762

its like 3 words squared but here u go slay enjoy ur man on a horse

Finnick often reminisced to you about the white sand beaches in District Four and how he could swim every morning without pathetic prying eyes and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Having won your games at eighteen, you had had the chance to have most of a reasonable childhood over in District Seven, keeping the people around you safe and gardening until your hands were sore, but Finnick didn’t get that luxury.

So, one morning - after weeks of meticulous planning - you had managed to convince Finnick to go on a quiet walk with you around the capitol. You had secretly packed him a pair of navy blue board shorts and a matching blue costume for you. When you got near the destination, you put your hands over his eyes and led him toward the makeshift beach that you had begged a particularly rich District One victor to help you make.

“Y/N/N? What’s going on?” He asked with excitement in his voice. He gasped in shock when his feet sunk into the memorable feeling of sand and he removed your hands from his eyes to see a small beach next to the coast of the Capitol. He turned to you with a giddy smile. “You did all of this for me?” He asked, pulling you into a hug.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him as you spoke, “You said you missed the beach so I got my hands dirty.” He laughed and picked you up, spinning you in his arms and whispering ‘I love you’ into your ear as many times as he could. You both sat in the sand for a while, blissful, but not ignorant to the cameras that were inevitably watching and - though you couldn’t be quite as close as you had aimed - you both had the best time you had had for a long while.

It had reached midday when your friend arrived with the next present. “You mentioned you know how to horse ride.” You spoke and Finnick's eyes widened.

He walked toward the large brown horse and began to stroke its mane gently, smiling at how much effort you put into today. “Correction, knew,” he replied and turned to face with an amused look in his eye. “But I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” You laughed as he climbed up onto the horse.

He had surprisingly done pretty well, having not fallen once yet - you assumed it was the calm temperament of the horse. He rode for a long while and you joined him every now and then, him coaxing you up onto the steed so he could show you the reigns, but you both eventually agreed that it wasn’t really your thing.

You watched in awe as his blonde hair ruffled gently in the wind and how effortlessly perfect he looked. It was as if he was always meant to be there. Now in his board shorts, you couldn’t help but admire his perfect body, his skin sunkissed and slightly freckled. He never was a fan of the scars that hid there, but you always assured him they were beautiful and showed that he was strong. He was perfect up there. Well, until he fell off. You instantly ran over to check on him and found him pretty much face down on the floor. You shook him but he didn’t respond, until he rolled over onto his back, roaring with laughter. You hit his shoulder gently, not in annoyance but more in relief - you weren’t sure how to describe it.

He took you by your waist and pulled you on top of him, the both of you comfortable against the warm sand of the beach. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips repeatedly, his hands gently caressing your waist. Then, without warning, you rolled over so he knelt over you and tackled him to the ground, starting an impromptu wrestling match that quickly ended when you kissed his neck in an attempt to distract him (which worked perfectly).

You both watched the sunset on the beach, hands holding one another as the brilliant amber hues shone in the sky. Though you had to be reasonably discrete so Capitolites wouldn’t catch you, today had been the perfect blend of relaxation and fun, something you had a feeling you weren’t going to feel again for a long while. You sighed in contentment as the stars began to shine, knowing that - no matter what - you would fight to spend every day with Finnick, for the rest of your life.

[gtgbabie0]

The Hunger Games Masterlist

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊

Finnick Odair-

Sleepless

Finnick says those three special words

Sweet giggle

Reuniting with Finnick

Peeta Mellark-

Baking

Katniss Everdeen-

Returning home

[lilmaymayy]

oh my this finnick is makin me feel things, HES SO PROTECTIVE😫😫

Reporter Madness

Summary: the reporters had never been much of a problem until now

Warnings: cursing, hints to past toxic relationship, violence

A/N: a special thanks to @knight-day for being extremely helpful and teaching me about f1

A Day at the Races Masterlist

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

The lights flashed over and over, giving you no time to recover from the momentary blindness that each one would make you experience.

Though you had been through this many times before, that didn't mean it made it any easier. You doubted one could just build an immunity towards the hundreds of cameras pointed at them. Let alone that added with the voices shouting directly at you, trying to make themselves heard over anyone else, to no avail.

Nobody could stand that.

Except for Finnick, of course.

Your boyfriend was a walking machine of charm and wit, a human shield against the sea of reporters that accompanied the two of you wherever you went.

When they were outside of the grocery store the two of you had run into for a moment to grab some snacks for a movie night, he would stand there with a laugh and joke for them to put into their articles.

Any time they would bombard you after a simple expedition to the cinema to see the newest action movie, he would smile brightly, as if the lights of the constant cameras were only being absorbed into his grin.

And you admired him for it. Of course you did. How couldn’t you? For the first few months of the two of you dating, you practically had a panic attack anytime you so much as spotted a paparazzi mob. But he never once seemed the slightest bit phased by it.

The only time his charm would ever fade and his smile would falter around them was when any of them were being exceptionally rude. Though they almost always were, he only took it personally when they took it too far.

“Finnick! How are you feeling about your chances for the WDC this year?”

“Any comments on winning last Saturday's race?”

“What is it like to have Peeta Mellark as a teammate?”

As soon as the two of you stepped foot outside of the fancy restaurant he had just gotten you reservations for, you were bombarded with the questions and cameras.

Finnick smiled politely, just wanting to get back home today, not really in the mood to answer their questions, and squeezed your intertwined hand gently. A silent reassurance that you would be out of there soon and back home, snuggling on your couch.

With your hand still firmly grasped in his, he began to follow behind his security that was making a path through the crowd for the two of you and towards the car.

Normally, the questions would keep flowing, but you would make it to the car with little to no trouble. Not tonight though. Tonight, the paparazzi and reporters were ruthless. They seemed to be out for blood.

Even when the security guards tried to keep them at bay, they surged forwards, fighting back against the form that they were being kept in.

That was when the panic really began to set in for you.

The lights were suddenly becoming too bright. The questions too loud. Your senses were being taken over, you could hardly breathe.

It was then that you felt the first hand on your arm. A hand that was large and rough. A hand that was not Finnicks. And it pulled you back.

You flinched back suddenly in surprise, accidentally dropping your boyfriend's hand in the process.

That was how they found their opening.

Immediately, at least half of them pushed their way in between you and Finnick, separating you even further and just continuing to push you more and more away from him as you backed up with wide eyes full of fear.

The hand of a large, disgusting looking man was still gripped on your arm, and you gasped, quickly stumbling out of his hold.

You could only imagine the pictures they were getting of this. Of the famed Formula 1 driver being separated from his terrified and pathetic girlfriend that couldn’t handle the reporters on her own.

“How does it feel being Odair's girlfriend?”

“Do I hear wedding bells anytime soon?”

“I heard that you missed one of Finnick's races last week to go eat lunch with another man. Any comment?”

“Rumor has it that your last relationship didn't go well for you. Would you like to confirm or deny this?”

That last question hit too close to home and you flinched back violently. As if you had been struck.

Those words began bouncing back and forth in your head. Opening old wounds and bringing back memories you had tried so, so hard to push away.

It felt as if your lungs were collapsing. The lights were all blurring together. You didn’t know how much longer you could-

“Sir! We need to get you to the car!”

A voice. One you recognized as one of Finnick's security finally carried through, above the roaring of the crowd, and reached your ears. Instead of your boyfriend answering is guard, he was calling out your name at the top of his lungs.

Hearing it fall from his lips was like a breath of fresh air that you so desperately needed.

That was when you finally spotted him, forcefully pushing passed reporters with no regard for whatever expensive equipment they were holding or whether or not they were toppling into one another.

No longer was there a grin on his face, his eyes were void of that twinkle you loved so much. Instead, it was replaced with a look of desperation and worry, his lips pulled into a straight line.

You moved on shaky legs as you tried to clear the rest of the way towards him. Towards the safety of his hold.

Finally, he broke through the last of the reporters and immediately pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight protectiveness that you couldn’t help but sag into in relief.

“Dove,” He breathed out in your ear, relief as evident in his voice as it was in your actions, “It’s okay, you’re okay now.”

You hadn’t even realized that you had begun crying until you felt the wetness of the tear stain you had left on his suit when you burrowed your face into his chest.

“Come on,” Very reluctantly, he passed you over to one of the older, kind security guard, and let him begin to lead you over to the car.

“Wait,” Your voice came out strained and cracked and you dug your heels into the ground, “What are you-“

Finnick turned on his heel, a look of raw anger resting on his face. It was a look you hadn’t seen from him. Not since you told him about your last relationship.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He roared at the entirety of the reporters, effectively silencing them for the first time. He had stunned them into silence. Never had he acted out like this in public. Ever.

“Why the hell would you ever think it was okay to do something like that?” Then his eyes narrowed in on one individual. The one that had pulled you away from him in the first place, “And you,” He seethed, marching right up to him and grabbing him by the collar, “Don’t you dare ever touch my girl again.”

With that, Finnick reeled his fist back, the man too dumbfounded to even react, and punched the man square in the jaw. A sickening crack following it.

A look of disgust accompanied the blond's face when he dropped the man and took a step back. Standing there for a moment and letting exactly what he had just done sink in.

Then, he turned on his heel to face you, and his features automatically softened and his shoulders relaxed, no longer in their stiff, tense position.

Quickly, he strode to you and wrapped his arm over your shoulders, tucking you into his side and gently leading you to the car.

Not a single reporter or paparazzi followed after him. Not when he shut the door harshly. Not when he informed the driver to speed away.

Finally, he turned to you, where you had sunken back into the leather seat and rested your head back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Oh, Dove,” He whispered, gently moving his hand forward and gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You opened your teary eyes, “I’m sorry,” You choked out.

Finnicks eyes immediately furrowed, “No, no,” He said softly, “Nothing about that was your fault. Those assholes never should have done that.”

Your eyes widened upon realization of something and you shot up in your seat in panic, “Your hand.” You rushed out, quickly taking his larger one into your own hands and examined the knuckles that had just been used to knock a man unconscious.

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly at your concern, “I’m alright, Dove,” He reassured you, “Nothing a little ice won’t fix.”

You dropped his hand and began to nervously fidget with your own fingers, “Word of this is gonna get out fast. This won’t be good publicity.”

Gently, he took your chin between two of his fingers and lifted your face so that he could place a ginger kiss on your forehead.

Then, he looked you in the eyes, “I don’t care,” His voice was soft, but stern, “I don’t care the slightest bit. I probably still would have done that if they had only separated us. But he- he… touched you,” The words pained him to say, “I was not going to just let that go.”

“But-“ You tried to argue.

“No buts.” He cut you off with a shake of his head, “And as for the publicity, good. I hope everyone knows what will happen if they ever dare touch you, Dove.”

You stared into his devastatingly beautiful green eyes for a moment, searching for something- anything- that would contradict his statement. But when you found nothing, you just gently laid your head on his chest and let your eyes flutter shut.

“You’re okay, Dove, you’re okay,” He whispered, unconsciously running his fingers through your hair, seeming to try and convince himself more than you.

Taglist: none yet

[ilguna]

Hey! Can I get the number 89 (in honour of 1989 tv) with finnick ?

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, death, gore for sure, blood, weapon usage, mention of prostitution.

wc; 8.6k

prompt; 86. "Do you trust her?" // "No, but I trust her anger."

notes; i already did 89 for Peeta (castaway) and i'm trying not to do any repeats, so we're going with 86 :)

part two, part three.

--

The golden Cornucopia sits abandoned in the middle of this black sand island, whereas normally it’s occupied by the Careers to ensure that no intruders steal from them. There must not be anything worth protecting in here, then, besides the weapons that are displayed.

This allows the group to spread out, picking places to rest in the shade. Peeta lowers Beetee to the ground, propping him up against a box. He backs off, going to stand next to Katniss.

Beetee calls out to Wiress, making her go over to him. She crouches down, hands on her knees, waiting. In her limited state of mind, you’re fairly surprised that she’s still comprehending people, much less requests. He holds up his coil of wire, she takes it. “Clean it, will you?” 

Wiress nods, wordlessly getting to her feet and going to sit on the edge of the island to clean the spool of blood. She dunks it in the water, occasionally using her fingers to rub a particularly hard spot. While she does this, she begins to sing, no longer repeating the words ‘tick tock’.

It must be some sort of nursery rhyme from District Three, because you don’t recognize it. It’s about a mouse running up and down a clock, which is fairly appropriate, given the recent discovery, thanks to her.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna says, rolling her brown eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

Wiress stops suddenly, getting to her feet, posture rigid as she points to the jungle and says, “Two.”

The rest of you watch as a white wave of fog begins to seep onto the beach. From here, it doesn't seem so threatening. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it, if you hadn’t run for your life from it early this morning. While it melted your jumpsuit and poisoned your skin, causing you to strip to your under clothes and for your body to be covered in scabs from where it touched you.

You’d rather fight the orange monkey muttations a hundred times than risk doing that again.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“LIke clockwork.” Peeta agrees. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

Wiress smiles, and then kneels in the sand to continue singing and dunking the coil in water. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says from beside you. Your eyes slide over to him. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” She says.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna scoffs.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss ends that line of conversation, turning to go inside of the Cornucopia.

Johanna goes in after her to poke around in the weapons, since she’s been empty handed the entire time. Funny how Beetee was able to make it to the Cornucopia before she did, even if it ended up getting him hurt because of it.

You briefly glance at Finnick from where you were watching Johanna, and you have to do a double-take when you realize that he’s staring at you. He looks you over, up and down, which would be flattering, if you didn’t know that he was assessing your demeanor, deciding if you were a threat.

You squint at him, face twisting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tells you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re looking at me like that.” You snap. “Leave me alone.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything back. You’re getting tired of him thinking that you’re going to betray the alliance. You’re in this as much as he is, you volunteered to be here. If anything, he should be a little grateful that he got a district partner that’s invested and capable.

He doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that you’re just as bad as Enobaria and Brutus—that you’re itching to get back into an arena to kill for some spotlight. And you know this, because he told you himself on the train. Once you were out of sight of the cameras, he tried to lay you out in front of Mags and the escort, and you shut him down.

You know he disagrees with the way you choose to handle situations, but to think that you would get in the way of a rebellion was a slap to the face. You made sure he knew that later on, when you were out of earshot of the Peacekeepers. If he wanted to think of you so lowly, fine. The line is drawn when he begins to implant those ideas in other people’s heads, too. Especially since you’ve done nothing to deserve it.

It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he tried to block you from being invited into the alliance by telling Haymitch that you could fuck the whole plan if your mood changes. He said all it would take is one disagreement, one thing not going the way you wanted, one wrong look, and you’d make sure that everyone else would be brought down by it.

Thankfully, Haymitch knows better than to just take Finnick’s word for it. He might be a drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention for the past ten years. He knows that you and Finnick have a history of not getting along. If anything, you’ll sabotage Finnick more than you will the alliance as a whole.

Which is why he told you that you have a place in it, if you want. And while everyone else places stepping stones to make sure that the plan to get rescued is in place. You were told that you have two jobs; the first one being protecting Katniss and Peeta, a task that you were already prepared to risk your life for. As for the second one—if anything were to go wrong, if someone unexpected were to get killed, you’ll replace their shoes, and get Katniss and Peeta to the end of the day at all costs.

This is why you’ve been on edge. If Finnick would see past his hatred for you, and thought about it, he’d realize that you’re trying to make sure that Katniss and Peeta are in good positions. You are not the threat here.

Johanna lets out a grunt, you turn your head in time to watch as she throws an axe through the air, straight at the Cornucopia. It hits the sun-softened gold with a gentle thud, and it sticks. She crosses the area, pulling it out by the handle, making a face at the blade.

Katniss is digging through the weapons, probably looking for more arrows to add to her collection, because two sheaths aren’t enough. When she finds one, she swings it over her back and comes out to stand over Peeta, who’s drawing a map of the arena onto a large leaf that he brought from the jungle. He slices the circle, creating twelve equal wedges.

“Look how the Cornucopia is positioned.” He says, looking up at her.

Her eyebrows draw in, and she turns around to take a look at the building she just came out of. “The tail points to twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, numbering the wedges one through twelve. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He proceeds to write lightning in the wedge, and then goes clockwise, adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the next sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” She says, he writes it down. 

Finnick comes over with Johanna, the two of them have upped the weapon count on their bodies. And he thinks you’re the dangerous one, as if you don’t have a sword and a couple knives on you. Does he really need two tridents and half a dozen knives? It makes him look…

Hot, a voice whispers from the depth of your mind, It makes him look hot.

He’s standing in a patch of sun, where the Cornucopia doesn’t quite reach. The sunbeams baking his already tanned skin. His eyes are a brighter shade of sea green, with the light being in his eyes. He looks like he belongs at the bottom of the ocean, commanding the creatures that dwell in it.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he flickers over to yours. You stare for a second longer, before blinking and looking away, back at the map that’s being drawn. 

It’s a shame that Finnick decided years back that he would rather keep you at a distance instead of making a friend out of you. The two of you are so similar that it hurts at times, but all he can see are the differences, which hurts more.

The both of you won at young ages, with him setting the record, while you won at fifteen. He had an advantage in his Games, though, because the sponsors were drawn in by his good looks for being someone so young. This meant that he had everything he could have ever asked for gifted to him in the arena.

On the other hand, you didn’t make much of an impression during your reaping or the Tribute Parade, forcing you to change the strategy that you’d been given by Finnick and Mags. They wanted you to keep your head down, but if you wanted even a sliver of a chance, you needed to make your name big.

So, that’s exactly what you did. And that’s where the resentment he has for you, started. You showed off absolutely all your skills in the Training Center, making sure the Gamemakers knew you had potential, getting you a score of nine. During your interviews, you told Caesar that there wasn’t a single hurdle you wouldn’t jump to get home.

That statement was put to the test in the arena, when you killed several tributes, including your own district partner, because you knew it put you one step closer to getting out. You didn’t care what bridges you had to burn, how many sponsors you had to lose, or if you lost the support of your mentors. Nothing could stop you, and it didn’t.

Finnick hates that you had no remorse when you got out of the arena. Or now, because you told him that this is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, because between life and death, you choose life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact you’re so cold. How could the two of you be from the same district?

The similarities came back into play when you turned sixteen, when the Capitol realized that they do care about you. Which changed your title from victor to Capitol darling. You were told to join Finnick and be a prostitute, or President Snow would kill your family. 

This is where you screwed up, believing him to be bluffing. You didn’t think he would actually do it, but he’s a man of his word. When you were done listening to the screams and pleas of your parents to spare your siblings, Snow told you that if you didn’t agree, Finnick’s family would be next.

You had no choice, you had to agree. And when Finnick found out that you landed right where he was, there wasn’t a single shred of empathy he had toward you. Not even after you returned to District Four, and he learned that your family had been murdered in your home. The one you’d be forced to stay in for an additional two weeks while they got your victor house ready.

If you weren’t indifferent to his existence before, you sure as hell were then.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, referring to the wedges. 

“Only blood.” Johanna says, Beetee nods.

“I guess they could hold anything.” Katniss looks down at Peeta.

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Wiress, since she’s gone quiet. Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, knife sliding across the skin on her throat. It’s too late to save her, you know this when the blood begins to come down her neck like a waterfall.

The knife on your belt is in your hand and flying through the air in the matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. This kills him instantly.

A movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next, but Johanna’s on it. She buries her axe in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her.

Three cannons blast, back to back.

Finnick swings his trident upward, deflecting a spear that had been aiming for Peeta, thrown by Brutus. Finnick goes to twist his body to take the knife that Enobaria throws at Beetee, but he misses by an inch. It’s too late for you to save Beetee, as the knife shatters the lens on the right side, and the blade buries itself in his eye socket.

Fuck.

Another cannon blasts.

You shove Finnick out of the way to chase after Enobaria and Brutus, who are making their escape around the backside of the Cornucopia. They’ve successfully killed two of your most important allies, and they don’t even realize it.

The two Careers are running down one of the sand strips to the beach. You manage to throw one more knife at Brutus before he’s out of range. It slams into his right calf, taking him down. He lands on his hands and knees, which is exactly what you were hoping for.

Right as you’re about to step onto the strip, the ground beneath you jerks, throwing you down. The center island of the Cornucopia begins to spin, fast. You press your sword between your body and the ground, digging your fingers into the grooves to hold on. 

It’s only thirty seconds later when it slams to a stop without warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking measured breaths to calm the growing annoyance in your chest. The Gamemakers knew you would kill Brutus, and later Enobaria, if you caught up with her. That’s why they had to intervene, otherwise the fun of the Games would be gone.

You slam your fist against the rock, pushing yourself to your knees. You lean back on your heels slightly, face to the sun while you collect yourself. With Wiress and Beetee being gone, this is a very large hiccup that you’re going to have to smooth out. You jinxed yourself, didn’t you?

A sigh leaves you as you get to your feet, swinging the sword into your hand. As you round the corner, you can see that everyone else is upright. Finnick looks over at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for good news, because you were the closest to the Two tributes.

“Brutus is injured. I would’ve had him if the fuckin’ Gamemakers had minded their own business.” You stab the tip of the sword into a patch of sand.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks, looking around the group.

“He’s dead.” You tell her.

She meets your eyes, “What happened?”

“I—” Finnick starts.

“I didn’t block the knife in time.” You talk over him. “Enobaria’s got a strong arm, it went right through his glasses.”

You can see Finnick staring at you from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips, tasting the salt of the water, before pressing them together. When you look at him, the two of you stare for a long second.

You, Johanna and Finnick know what this means. If just one of the Three tributes had been killed, you could’ve used the other. With both of them being gone, it means that someone needs to pick up their job, and you were the one that was elected to do just that.

“What now?” Finnick asks you.

You tilt your head, eyes going out to the water, finding two of the four bodies. It’s got to be Wiress and Gloss, because they’d been right next to each other when they died. You lean your sword up against the Cornucopia before wandering forward, to the edge of the island.

Wiress is floating on her back, on her stomach sits the spool of wire, golden and shining in the sunlight. You begin to head down the sand strip closest to her body. “I want the wire.”

“What for?” Johanna asks, “That was his weapon, not yours.”

You look over your shoulder. “It has to be now, doesn’t it?”

Johanna makes a face, but it’s not one of doubt. She knows that you’re right, that’s why she won’t bother to argue. Not that she would, anyway. You and Johanna get along, basically two peas in the same pod. She just likes Finnick more, because he puts up with her bullshit.

You jog as close as you can get to Wiress’s body, before diving in the warm water. It’s a nice break from the sun, even if it is for a minute. It doesn’t take long to get to her body, prying the coil from her fingers. You’re about to swim away, when you hesitate, closing her eyes.

Finnick is waiting for you on the strip when you get back to it. You place the wire on the rock, and he reaches down to help you up. Your face twists, but you take his hand, letting him help. The moment you’re on both feet, he pulls you close, a rough hand on your shoulder as he pulls you close to speak in your ear.

“If you can’t do this, you need to tell me. I’ll figure something else out.” Finnick harshly whispers.

You jerk back, squinting at him. “Worry about yourself.” 

As you stoop to grab the wire, Finnick shakes his head. “I mean it, (Y/n).”

“And so do I.” You tell him, lowering your voice. “There’s a reason why Haymitch trusted me with this, and not you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We’re back to this, huh?”

You scoff loudly. “You’re the one that’s upset by it, Finnick. So, here’s a fucking suggestion: deal with it.” You shake your head. “You’re so worried that I’m going to betray the alliance, that’s you’re forgetting that this is what I do.” You motion to the jungle with your free hand. “Enobaria and Brutus can run all they want, but we both know they’re going to have to come out eventually if they plan on finishing us off. And when they do, they’re going to get it.

“Not from you, not from Johanna, from me.” You seethe, moving around Finnick to head back up to the Cornucopia. You throw your hands up, one of them still holding the wire. “Face it, Finnick, I’ve got this handled.”

You turn around, finding that your three other allies have their eyes on you. You ignore them, watching where you place your feet. On the island, you retrieve your sword, dropping the wire onto a box. Finnick is a few feet behind you, wearing a hard expression.

You hate it when you have to talk to him like that, but you can’t do it any other way if you want him to listen to you. It’s like he doesn’t care unless you’re being hostile, except that tone of voice has him on edge, afraid that you’re going to flip a switch.

There is no happy medium. It’s like he’s dead-set on thinking that you’re an unlikable person. You wouldn’t have minded having an actual conversation between you, Finnick and Johanna to figure out a plan together. It’s his fault that he decided to take the situation into his own hands by assuming that you wouldn’t have the ability to fill Beetee’s shoes.

It makes you mad, so now you’re going to take care of it by yourself. As much as he wants you to ask for help, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you don’t need him. Or the others, for that matter.

“Let’s get off this stinking island.” Johanna says once Finnick has joined the group.

You dig through the weapons in the Cornucopia, looking for a pair of knives that aren’t too short. The only ones that are available are displayed on the wall in the very back. They’re slightly curved, not too heavy. They’ll work just fine.

You watch as Peeta, Finnick and Johanna start in three different directions.

You stand next to Katniss, watching this. When they realize that no one is following them, they stop.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him. “Any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

You tuck the knives in your belt, as you circle the Cornucopia with them to try and find the path that’ll lead to the twelve beach. Only, the jungle is perfectly replicated in every section, down to the last tree. Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s path, but it’s been washed away.

Katniss stops. “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“For now.” You murmur. “We still have the wave at ten to tell us, we’ll be back on track after that.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s growing impatient, wanting to move. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them decide which strip to take to the beach. Katniss and Peeta begin to lead the way. You grab the wire, motioning for Johanna and Finnick to go next, but they don’t budge. You roll your eyes and duck your head, putting a good distance between you and Peeta before you walk.

“What’s the plan?” Johanna’s voice sounds far, and she’s trying to be quiet, but there’s not enough going on for it to conceal her.

“She says she’ll handle it.” Finnick murmurs, you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“That’s it?” She asks, “It looked like she was yelling at you.”

“She did.” He says. “She told me to worry about myself, and she’ll handle Enobaria and Brutus.”

Johanna doesn’t speak right away. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but I trust her anger.” He tells her. “She’s right, this is what she does best.”

“So, you want to follow behind her?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Finnick shoots back.

“No.” Johanna sighs.

When you get to the jungle, they look inside of it, trying to figure out if there’s anything waiting inside or not. When you can’t see any immediate threats, they relax.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects. “I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking off a large leaf to hand to him. “(Y/n) can stay with us, while she figures out what to do with the wire.”

You drop it in the sand, along with your sword, as you sit down. Peeta crouches beside you, beginning to make his map, again. As you watch him draw the slices, your mind begins to wander. 

Katniss and Peeta are the Careers’ focus. They want to target the ones with the highest scores first, and then work their way down. If they take out a few of you in the process, then that’s great, but they’re afraid of what the Twelve tributes could’ve possibly done in order to get a perfect score.

It was a little odd for Gloss to go for Wiress, if this is the case. And Cashmere wasn’t able to kill anybody before she died. You guess she might have been going for Katniss, but Johanna was in between them, she wasn’t going to make it that far. That’s why Brutus tried to get Peeta with the spear, and maybe the knife was originally aimed for Peeta, not Beetee?

You just can’t wrap your head around their strategy of getting rid of the Three tributes. Were Enobaria and Brutus that worried about you guys coming up with a plan to use the explosives on the tribute platforms? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened in the Games, it’s just a stupid idea to do it in the water, when you have nothing to steady yourself on.

Either way, you need to figure out a way to draw them in. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that they’ll wait until dark to attack again, because they’ll have cover. It’s only the two of them now, which means they won’t attack the five of you all together, they’ll get overpowered in seconds. They’ll wait until you split up.

You play with the wire, twisting it between your fingers while you think.

If they send another twenty-four rolls from District Three tonight, you’ll have no choice but to go into the jungle for the lightning section, because that’s where they’ll be rescuing you out of the arena. You would just say that you should go up to the lightning tree and wait, except you won’t know what time it is until ten, like you said.

When the wave does it, you’ll have two hours to get to the tree. After that, Katniss and Peeta will have to get split up long enough to get the tracker out of their arms. That’ll be the perfect time to kill Enobaria and Brutus, too.

You just need a reason for them to split up. Johanna’s already agreed to getting it out of Katniss’s arm, which left Peeta for Finnick. You need some sort of placebo plan in the meantime, something for them to focus on to keep their minds off of the fact that the situation is going to be very, very suspicious.

“That’s it.” Peeta says, sitting back. “I don’t—”

A scream cuts through the still air, silencing him. You whip around to look back at the jungle, unsure of whether or not it belongs to Katniss. As you get to your feet, sword in your hand, you can hear another voice, shouting back. That one sounds like Katniss.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

You get to your feet before he does, pulling the sword into your hand as you break through the jungle, swinging at any leaves in your way. “I think we chose the wrong section.”

“It’s supposed to be the monkey mutts right now, how can it be anything else?” Peeta asks.

Your face twists as you look over your shoulder, finding that Johanna’s eyes have rolled back as far as she can get them. “Because it’s the next hour?” She snarks.

Peeta doesn’t respond. For a moment, you’re genuinely concerned that the forcefield on the first day might have fried his brain a lot more than you thought. When you begin to think of all the decisions he’s made over these past couple of days, you relax. It’s not really out of his nature to say something stupid once in a while.

You’re about twenty yards into the jungle when you stop suddenly, sword at your side, eyes scanning the trees above. When Johanna and Peeta finally pause, you realize just how quiet it is out here.

Johanna takes a step or two forward, coming to stand next to you, looking up at the tree branches. She covers her eyes with one hand, squinting. “There’s no birds.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” You tell her, your normal voice feels too loud. “There’s not even insects.”

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking at you.

“I feel like it’s too early to be the beast, because the sun was down further yesterday.” 

She nods. “A new hour.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s so quiet.” Peeta says.

“Could be something in the trees.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. “That’s why I don’t want to go further in.”

“But Katniss and Finnick are in there.” Peeta shakes his head. “We have to.”

“Don’t you think they would’ve called for help by now?” You ask, “We heard Katniss say something, but then she stopped.”

“And they can’t be dead because there’s no cannon.” Johanna says after. “What if they’re hurt?”

You look further into the jungle. “It’s a bad idea.”

“We have to try.” Peeta says, starting toward the two of you.

You move in time to let him pass without running into your shoulder. He makes it an additional five yards before he walks smack into a wall, head bouncing off. A little smile fights its way onto your face, and then it vanishes when you realize that this is exactly what happened when he hit the forcefield.

He reaches out, going to touch it. You stride forward, grabbing the back of the neck of his undershirt, yanking him back. “Are you stupid?”

“Wait.” He swats your hand free. “Watch.”

You grab his wrist when he holds his hand out again, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Then do it yourself.” Peeta motions, you let go. “It would’ve blown me back if it was a forcefield. Besides, it’s too far down.”

You look at space in front of you, seemingly fine. The wall that he’d run into isn’t even visible. You take in a breath, holding it, before sticking your hand out in the direction of it.

The palm of your hand vibrates against it, you apply pressure, wondering if it’ll budge if you lean into it, but it doesn’t move. You look down at your sword, pressing your lips together. If this is a forcefield, this will most definitely kill you. Still, you swing the sword into the invisible wall, and you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t explode into sparks upon contact.

“Well…” You trail off, beginning to walk around the wall, keeping one hand on it. No matter where you touch, or how far along you walk, the wall doesn’t stop. You make it into the next section of the jungle, and around the corner, and still feel it there. When you make it back to Johanna and Peeta, you shake your head. “Sealed.”

“They’re inside?” Peeta asks. “Do you think they can hear us?”

“I’m going to say no.” Johanna grunts, swinging her axe into the wall repeatedly. “If we can’t hear the birds,” Her voice is strained, “Then we can’t hear them.” She stops, tossing the axe aside, it lands next to a bush. She sighs, “I guess we’re going to wait out here.”

Peeta doesn’t like this idea, you can tell by the way his face screws up, but he knows you don’t have any other choice. 

“I’m going to grab the wire, then.” You tell her.

“Speaking of it, come up with anything yet?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Almost.” You say, walking away from her.

When you get to the beach and find the wire, you don’t go back into the jungle right away. You stand beneath a patch of shade, staring at the Cornucopia, and the trees beyond it, squinting.

From what you can tell, Enobaria and Brutus aren’t on the beach or in the treeline, which means that they’re in those trees, somewhere. They must be fairly far in, where they’re resting. They likely won’t come out again until they’ve been sponsored and their wounds are healing. And even then, they’ll make sure you’re not on the beach, first.

Or maybe they are able to see you, and you just can’t see them.

If you were in their shoes, you’d be watching your every move right now to figure out what you’re doing. And if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter what you do with this wire, they’ll already know the plan. Really, it would just be an excuse to split Katniss and Peeta.

So, that’s what it’ll be.

The wire could be used for a number of things, you could probably make a trap out of it. There’s enough of it for you to bring it to the tree and back down to the beach, twice. The question is what Beetee would have used it for.

You close your eyes, listening to the waves on the beach, trying to remember how Beetee won his Games. You were talking to Mags about it the other day, she was telling you that it’s been thirty years since he won. Back then, he wasn’t the strongest tribute either, he had to make something to electrocute the last remaining tributes.

He wouldn’t really be able to do that now. He had the sources—the lightning at midnight and the water at the center. In the condition he was in before he got killed, he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip up to the tree, back down to the water, and up again to be out of the way of the electricity. And the chances of the wire being cut by the Careers isn’t that low, even in your situation now.

You’d need someone at the base of the tree, and someone unspooling the wire down to the water…

Your eyes pop open, it takes them a second to adjust to the sudden light. You stare at the water. This is what Beetee was going to do, wasn’t it? The wire acts as a conductor. If you hook it up to the tree at the right time when it strikes, it’ll fry everything in the water.

But what you want is to kill the Careers, in a way. The sand would have to be wet too, or at least damp. Which… Which will be the exact case when the wave hits at ten, and it’ll be cooler out, so the water won’t evaporate as quickly. If you bury the spool in the sand, it should have the entire beach covered and the water.

“Bingo.” You say, grabbing the coil.

You join the others back inside of the jungle, finding Peeta on the floor, forehead pressed to the invisible wall. Johanna’s pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest. When you get closer, you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side, both of them with their hands over their ears.

When a twig snaps beneath your weight, Johanna looks over. She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “What took you so long?”

“Came up with a plan.” You tell her, dropping the wire and your sword next to one of her axes. 

“What plan?” Peeta asks, unmoving.

“On how to kill the remaining Careers.” You wink at Johanna, but it’s not flirtatious.

You know she understands when the crease appears between her eyebrows, giving you a slight nod. “Care to enlighten us?”

“When they’re out, I will. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” You nod at the other two. “What’s going on in there?”

“I think it’s jabberjays.” Johanna says, pointing up at the trees behind the wall. “They’re fifty of them in the trees. Katniss tried killing them, of course it didn’t work.”

Your eyes land on Finnick, finding his muscles rigid. You crouch to get a better look at his face, there’s a streak of red from his nose, down his lips, and off his chin. “What happened to Finnick?”

“He ran face-first into the wall.” Peeta says. “It was a bloody nose.”

You hum, lowering yourself to the ground. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

—

The wall suddenly breaks, Peeta falling forward. He catches himself on his hands, getting to his feet. He doesn’t even say anything, just scoops Katniss into his arms, and walks straight out of the jungle with her, leaving the arrows behind.

You sit up, looking over at Johanna to see that she’s staring at you. She tilts her head, “Do you want to try?”

You take in a breath, “I’ll let you know if it works.”

She nods, following after Katniss and Peeta, because someone needs to be watching over them. You get up, walking a few feet over to Finnick, before crouching down beside him. 

You lift a hand, hovering it over his back for a minute, and then change your mind, placing your elbows on your thighs to lean on them. He’s got his eyes closed, head down. He probably can’t even hear you. You don’t even know how he’ll react to being touched, much less by you.

You press your lips together, heart hurting at the sight of him. It’d be better if Johanna were here, she can talk to him. All you’ll do is upset him more. You grind your teeth, once again wishing that this wasn’t your relationship. As you go to stand up, the hands over his ears loosen, head beginning to lift.

He looks around in the jungle first, making sure the threat is gone. That’s when he notices you beside him, waiting. His eyes are watery, he swallows.

“Hey,” You murmur, “Are you okay?”

He stares at you, eyebrows drawing in.

You nod, “I’ll go get Johanna.”

Once again, you try to get to your feet, when he speaks, “Why?”

“Why… what?” You ask, pausing.

“Why would you get Johanna?” He asks.

You turn your head in the direction of the beach. Is he really going to make you say it? Does he want to see the pain it’ll cause you? Or does he think it’ll come out venomous?

When you look at him, you sigh, “Because I’m not really a comforting person to you, am I?”

He doesn’t answer your question, “Where are they?”

“They’re on the beach.” You tell him. “I figured out a plan that’ll work. I’ll tell you guys when you’re ready.”

“Do Johanna and Peeta know?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No.”

Neither of you move, staring at each other. And while you could stay here forever, you don’t allow yourself. You push on your knees, standing up. You offer your hand to him, but he moves it away, just like you figured he would.

He doesn’t say anything, walking past you to leave. You stare at the scene of dead birds in front of you, before you turn around, collecting yours and Johanna’s belongings, and going to join them on the beach. 

Katniss seems better, she’s talking to Peeta. Johanna is standing over them, she glances at Finnick when he passes by. She has to twist her body to see you standing in the treeline. You hand her the axe.

“It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” Peeta says.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.” 

“Do you believe it, Finnick?” 

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says, looking up at Johanna, ignoring you entirely. “Could they do that? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

Johanna makes a face, looking at you for help. You play with the piece of wire you’d unraveled, “I’m sure Beetee would know.”

“Peeta’s right.” Johanna then says. “The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on her hands.” She deadpans. “Don’t want that, do they?” She scoffs, throwing her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She shakes her head, wandering around the beach to pick up shells. When she finds a good few, she stops next to Finnick, holding her hand out. “I’m getting water.” Finnick drops the spile into her hand, and she begins toward the jungle.

Katniss grabs her hand. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” She says, shaking her hand free. You don’t miss the look she gives Finnick, and then you, as she disappears into the jungle. 

She comes back a couple minutes later with a shell of water, handing it over to Katniss first. She makes trips back and forth, letting each of you have some. She comes out one trip with a pile of arrows that she gives back to Katniss.

Finnick shakes his head, walking to the water. He stops a few feet in, and sits. You let the wire drop to the sand, tired of bringing it wherever you go. You don’t move from where you are, eyes fixated on his back.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks, curious.

Katniss is quiet. You’re expecting her to say Annie, because it makes the most sense, but when you look over, she’s eyeing you, and so is Peeta. 

“What?” You ask. “Was it Annie?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Katniss murmurs. “We thought we heard you.”

A loud laugh comes from you, unwarranted. The thought of Finnick caring about you enough for the Gamemakers to use you against him is funny. Really funny, actually. It must’ve been a walk in the park for him, listening to your pleas. A little gratifying, because he could pretend that you were getting what was coming for you.

But Katniss isn’t laughing, she’s serious. 

The humor leaves your smile, “It must’ve been his mother, that he was mistaken for me.”

“No, because we heard his mom, too. That first scream was yours.” She insists, “And he dropped everything to find you.”

“Finnick would never do that.” You tell her, voice cold. 

She doesn’t press it further, but the look in her eye is enough. She’s not lying to you, she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t gain anything from making something like that up.

You won’t believe it though. This is the same Finnick that told Johanna that he didn’t trust you, an hour and a half ago. There’s nothing that could’ve made him change his feelings in that time span.

Unless it didn’t.

Your eyes narrow at the back of Finnick’s head, hand tightening around your sword. 

A cannon blast keeps you from thinking about the subject any further, but the bubbling in your stomach is only getting hotter. Finnick gets up, coming to join you three, as well as Johanna, materializing out of the jungle. You stand together, watching a hovercraft appear over the next section, claw dipping in several times to retrieve all the pieces of one body. 

The beast.

This sparks Peeta to create another map, this time he’s able to fill in more than half of it. It starts with lightning, rain, and fog. It moves on to monkeys and jabberjays. He has to skip a section, and then writes beast. And the next one you have after six to seven is the wave at ten. This means you’re missing five of the other hours. 

The others begin to come back to life. Finnick begins to weave a water basket and a net to fish for dinner. While Katniss takes a swim and applies more ointment. By the time she’s done, Finnick has worked up a pile, so she sits on the edge of the water, cleaning them for him. 

It doesn’t take long for Katniss’s words to creep back into your mind, refusing to leave it be. Finnick cares about you, a thought that should have you excited, but it makes you uncomfortable. He has spent the last eight years making sure that you know that he hates you and couldn’t care less about what happens to you.

Yet here he is, supposedly dropping everything to save you. Possibly even leaving Katniss behind to do it. The Gamemakers must know something that you don’t, if they knew to use your voice. You want to assume that they thought Finnick was worried solely because you’re his district partner. Except, that doesn’t make sense either, because the two of you are notorious in the Capitol for being a pair of mentors that get into fights about how to handle things.

He has a lot of nerve.

The sun falls below the horizon, the moon rising to replace it in the sky. When they finish cleaning the fish, they bring it over, setting it in the middle of the circle for you to enjoy. The four of them begin to settle in the sand, you don’t move from where you stand.

The anthem begins to play, stopping them from digging in. The Capitol seal lights up the sky, and then it’s replaced by the faces. Cashmere, Gloss, Wiress, Beetee. The woman from Five, the morphling from Six, Blight, and the man from Ten. 

Eight tributes dead.

Strangely, this makes you think of your own Hunger Games. Where you managed to kill four people in the span of two hours, one of those being Rio, who was your district partner. By the end of the Games, you had eight kills under your belt. A third of the competition was taken out by you, a little fifteen year-old.

Once again, a factor that used to make Finnick sick. And now it doesn’t.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says without missing a beat.

The sound of clinking fills the air, you look up to find a parachute coming down, teetering from side to side. It lands perfectly in the middle of the group, unfolding itself to reveal the steaming rolls.

“Do these look like District Three to you?” Finnick looks at Johanna.

“Yeah, look at the imprint.” She says, running her finger over the top of one. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts them, being sure to be thorough. “Twenty-four. How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to laugh.

You pull your sword out of the sand, swinging it up to rest the flat part of the blade on your shoulder. Finnick looks up at you, eyeing your stance. You step away from them, shaking your head.

“Sit down, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you.

“Why, so you can keep an eye on me?” You snap, crossing the treeline. “Come and get me, Finnick.”

You make it a few feet in, before you hear the snapping of branches behind you. You sigh, turning with raised eyebrows to see that Finnick took it as a challenge. You didn’t mean it that way. You didn’t want him to chase you.

“Get out here.” He tells you.

You walk backward, tilting your head at him. “I’m just making sure Enobaria and Brutus aren’t out here.”

“I don’t care.” He’s still walking toward you. “We’ll worry about that when we make camp.”

You stop, letting your sword down from your shoulder. When you look past him, you can see that there’s enough distance between him and the beach. There’s privacy to talk and sort out what you heard.

Your eyes land on him, “Katniss told me something,” You start, watching his eyebrows twitch, “About how you thought I was the one screaming for help.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I thought it was my mom.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” You tell him, “But you said my name, and you dropped everything to go and get me.”

He sets his jaw, “So?”

“So,” The word is bitter, “What changed?”

He laughs, “Nothing, (Y/n). I went—”

“They used loved ones and family.” You cut him off. “You care about me, admit it.”

“I don’t.” He tells you. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You chased after the jabberjays thinking it was me, and you followed me in here because you’re worried that I’ll get caught by the Careers, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening, but whatever it is, it’s not true.” His voice wavers.

This is all the confirmation you need. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” You press your pointer finger to the middle of his chest. “That you’re not bothered by me anymore, and you haven’t been for a while. You’ve done a damn good job of hiding it up until now, but the jabberjays got you good.”

Finnick grabs your wrist, “That’s not true.”

“What changed, Finnick?” You insist.

“Nothing, because I don’t have feelings for you.” He snaps. “The reason why I came in here is because we want to move camp to the ten sector once the wave happens, I just didn’t want you to get lost out here and think we abandoned you, making you think it’s a free-for-all.”

He lets go of your wrist, face screwed tightly, as he leaves you here. You watch him go back to the beach, while you take several breaths, feeling the pit in your stomach grow.

What have you done?

---

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[jahayla-parker]

💭Headcanon: send in a character and a scenario or type of reader to get a bullet point list of thoughts on it.

finnick odair and childhood friends to lover w the reader <3

Ahhh Elll 😭 you want me to do bullet point Headcanons for this? I could do a whole fic on this 😭 he’s so precious and this is so cute

Okay, okay, here we go…

Finnick Odair Childhood Friends to Lovers Headcanons

“You”= reader cause it felt more natural that way lol

Finnick had a crush on you since you guys were little.

He’d always invite you to go with him to the beach in order to spend time together.

You guys would build sandcastles together

And he would help you collect pretty shells, loving the sweet smile it reliably brought to your face

He was the one who taught you how to swim.

Finnick was so proud when you picked it up so easily.

He was always so protective of you and he knew being able to swim would keep you safe

When reality hit, he was always so worried about your and his names being called for the reapings each year

He would always try to calm you before the event, saying how he just knew your names wouldn’t be called; even if he didn’t believe it himself.

His eyes would always look for you in the crowd during the ceremony and let out a breath of relief when you both managed to make it through another reaping.

He found himself being jealous when male classmates showed interest in you

But little did he know, he had no reason to be jealous for you’d developed feelings for him as well

Finnick was always there for you wherever you needed him.

Sometimes it was issues with your family.

Others times it was stress about the fact that the District Four residents training for the games was a daily reminder that you two could be torn apart by the Capitol should one of your names be called in the annual reapings.

Sometimes it was just hormones or other issues.

It didn’t matter, Finnick was always there.

And you were always there for him.

It was perfect.

Finnick debated about telling you his feelings multiple times.

But the sweet boy always panicked.

He loved you too much to risk losing you.

He was fine with the way things were, as long as he was able to have you in his life, things were great.

That is, until his name was called at the young age of 14.

To say you were distraught would be an understatement.

You threw yourself in his arms the moment you were allowed in the visiting room at the city hall after the reaping.

Finnick was trying to be strong for you, but he was of course terrified and he knew you knew him well enough to be able to tell.

You vowed to watch over his family

But Finnick made you also promise to stay safe and to follow any orders from The Peacekeepers who always stayed in town during the duration of the games.

You both exchanged countless other promises and words of support

You made Finnick promise in exchange that he’d win and return to you

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing him.

Your fear and heartbreak led you to take a leap you never thought you’d do

You cupped Finnick’s crying face in your shaking hands and told him that you loved him.

You nervously confessed that you didn’t mean as just friends.

You felt bad for telling him this now.

But Finnick had to know. Should something happen, he had to know that he was loved.

As you began to apologize for the timing but explain yourself, Finnick cried and whispered to you that he loved you too

You two shared a short but passionate kiss just before the Peacekeepers entered to take him away.

You screamed and fought against the officers as they pulled the boy away

But with one pleading look from Finnick, you stopped and sniffled as you watched him be lead out of the room, away from you.

The games were excruciating.

For both of you

Finnick hated what he had to do in the arena

But he was motivated to make it back to you.

To keep his promise to you that he’d return

To be able to finish what had finally started between you two after his reaping

You were devastated as you watched your sweet boy suffer

You never watched the games before.

And you absolutely hated watching these games

Yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of the screen

Day and night you could be found watching the screen

Searching for Finnick and watching over him as he sleep

As if you could somehow keep him safe from this far away

Your heart broke for him each time you watched his reactions to having to take the life of another victor.

You were astonished and confused by the gifting of the trident from a Capitol resident.

You knew no one had gotten such an extravagant or deadly gift during the games before

You were relieved in that it would help keep Finnick safe

But there was this sensation that something was off, wrong, and you couldn’t shake it.

When Finnick won the games, you were balling your eyes out

You foolishly ran to the train station to wait for him the moment the games ended, unable to wait patiently

Only for your and Finnick’s loved ones to remind you that he would have to be paraded around The Capitol and the other Districts for a bit first

But you were still tempted to stay there until you saw him get off the train

Until you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you

Until you knew he was alive and safe (little did you know what was about to happen to poor 14yr old Finnick)

But you recalled your promise to him that you’d be safe, and staying alone at the train station for days on end wouldn’t be fulfilling that promise

When it was time for him to return, you were there bright and early.

The moment he stepped off the train, his eyes were on you.

Little did you know he had been looking through the window for you the moment the train pulled into the station

But, he wouldn’t let you show your feelings to him right now.

He’d already been confronted by Snow

He wasn’t going to take any risks when it came to your safety.

Even if that meant he had to break your heart by being distant

It was made a tiny bit easier by his shame of what he’d done during the game, he knew he wasn’t the same boy you’d fallen for and he worried you’d change your mind after knowing what he’d done in the games

Even if you hadn’t, you would if you found out what he now had to do

But he couldn’t tell you

He couldn’t stand to see you fall out of love with him

Couldn’t risk you finding him as disgusting as he now felt

And he couldn’t risk telling you his situation knowing that Snow told him to keep it a secret

But if he allowed you to embrace him and hold him right now, the way he wanted, needed, he knew Snow could and would use it against him.

If he ever even accidentally stepped out of line, he knew Snow would use you to punish him

So as much as it broke his heart to see the confusion and look of heartbroken rejection in your eyes, he continued to subtly shake his head at you as he walked through the crowd that had gathered to see his return

You watched in despair as everyone fawned over Finnick.

You could see the pain in his eyes

But you seemed to be the only one who noticed it

Everyone else saw him as the proud shiny new victor, even his own mother. (A/n: his dad is said to be deceased in his wiki but his mom is still listed as alive but that’s all unclear)

But it didn’t matter that you saw the actual hurt because he hadn’t let you even approach him.

You were too heartbroken to even be angry

You’d been so worried about him and couldn’t wait to see him again

Yet it felt like he’d forgotten everything that happened before he’d left

And you felt guilty for even being upset by that

After all, he’d just gone through hell in the games

Of course he had other things on his mind

But you couldn’t help but be heartbroken about the dynamics of his return

After all, even if you’d not kissed him and confessed your love to each other, he was still your best friend

Or at least he had been when he’d left

And yet now he didn’t seem to want you around.

Yet you stayed, unable to part from him even if you couldn’t actually be close to him

After a few hours of sulking as you stayed off to the side as Finnick met with various District Four residents, including plenty of girls who suddenly were batting their eyes at him, you pulled yourself together and left

Finnick felt like the worst person in the world

Especially seeing your face whenever he had to pretend he was interested in the girls who kept approaching him

When he was finally allowed to go to his new home in Victor’s Village, he snuck away to find you

He went to your house, only to find you weren’t there

He instantly began to worry that he messed up somehow and Snow had already followed through on his threats

So he ran, literally ran, to the one place he thought you might be

And he practically collapsed in relief when he found you sitting there, staring out at the rough waves

Finnick had approached you that night

And while you were still upset about earlier, you couldn’t help but pull him into your arms as you both cried.

You didn’t have it in you to talk about the elephant in the room, not wanting to hear him tell you he’d realized there were far better girls he could be with and no longer wanted to be with you

But Finnick’s guilt was eating at him.

You’d stayed the night, at Finnick’s request, the just night only to wake up to him having nightmares.

As such, you’d been staying with him each night since he got back, holding him and comforting him through the aftermath of the games

And while he cherished the support, it made him feel even more guilty about his secret and about not explaining himself

But he selfishly couldn’t risk losing your support so he kept it in

That is, until one day he’d returned from a trip to The Capitol and didn’t see you in his new home

He ran the length of the coast trying to find you

He’d reluctantly returned to his house in Victor’s village that night and broke down in tears as his eyes landed on your sleeping frame as you rested on his couch

Upon hearing his sobs, you woke up and practically flung your half-awake body over the edge of the couch to get to him.

You had known something was going on. You knew him too well. And you knew that other victors didn’t return to the Capitol as frequently as he did. And you knew he wasn’t quite himself whenever he’d get back. You knew it took a few days for your Finnick to return. Even after he’d work through a lot of the aftermath of the games. But after no answer the few times you’d asked, you decided not to press.

But you couldn’t take that route anymore. Not when he was sobbing in your arms and holding onto you like his life depended on it.

After a lot of supportive encouragement, Finnick finally explained what Snow had forced him into.

You were downright livid.

Finnick felt horrible and couldn’t stop apologizing for what he’d done

You had reassured him for hours on end that you weren’t upset, mad, hurt, disappointed, disgusted, or any of other self-deprecating thoughts he’d feared you were feeling towards him.

It had taken a long time and lots of conversations for you two to figure out how to move forward

You wanted to go after Snow and it took everything in Finnick to convince you not to.

Meanwhile, Finnick worried he wasn’t worthy of being with you because of what he was having to do, and it took everything in you to convince him that it didn’t change how you saw him and that should he want a relationship, it didn’t mean he would be being disloyal to you

It took some time, but things slowly began to return to normal… or, closer to the way they were before his reaping, apart from that you were now officially together

Finnick kept the change in dynamics of your relationship as private as possible so Snow wouldn’t realize you became more than close friends.

But he was still the sweetest boyfriend ever

There were undoubtedly hard times wherever he had to leave

And he felt so guilty and disgusting when he returned

But with your help, he was able to feel like himself again each time

I could keep going but there’s a million different ways I could take it and it would be more of a fic at that point haha so I’ll conclude it there 💙

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[forget-me-not-my-dear]

Let me tell you about this fic!

I can’t wait for the next part, because it’s got me on the edge of my seat. I love Finnick in this fic. So good.

Golden Lies 9

PART 1 PART 8

Masterlist

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You thought it would've been harder to find the small ragtag group. But it really wasn't, the boy from 8 was loud and yelling most of the day. So loud that while they were walking, they couldn't hear you following behind them. You listened to them talk, slowly forming a plan on how to take them on. Who would suffer most and who would die quickly. 

“It's amazing, they are so oblivious she's right behind them and they have no idea!” Caesar said laughing as he watched. He had never been so intrigued by the games before. He wanted his little goddess to win, so much that he had the little butterfly sitting on his desk. This alone spoke to how amazing the people thought you were. Caesar VERY rarely every showed such blatant support of one specific tribute.

It didn't take long to learn that the only one who wanted to slowly kill Beck, was like he said the boy from 8. That solidified the plan in your brain, the two girls would die quickly but the boy would suffer. He would suffer for as long as you could stretch it. You would get revenge for Beck. 

Night fell after an entire day of stalking, they were looking for you, without knowing that you were right behind them. It was clear they only made it this far because of their alliance with the careers. A small camp fire was made as they argued about whose turn it was to stay awake. 

In a twist of fate, it was the boys turn. 

The two girls fell asleep almost instantly but you still waited. Watching as the boy's eyes opened slower and slower, until he too fell asleep. An hour or two after he fell asleep you walked slowly putting your machete away. Two of the throwing knives you had left were pulled out. 

Both lodged between the Axis and Atlas of their necks, spinal cords severed instantly. They died with very little to no pain and almost instantly. Their cannons went off and you were already standing behind the boy from 8. So when he jumped from his place, he didn't even have time to notice his teammates were dead. 

The handle off your machete slammed into the side of his head, hard enough to knock him out. You went through the bags gathered around them while you thought about how you were going to kill him.

Impalement? 

The blood eagle?

Death by a thousand cuts?

But when you pulled out a knife used to cut fish, one that had fish scales on the handle and 4 engraved into the blade your mind was made up. So you put the knife, green apples, and a few bottles of water into your bag. Cleaned off the throwing knives and put them away. Then drug the boy far into the woods, the opposite way of the cornucopia. 

You knew you were going to need a lot of space to keep the others from hearing him. Somehow you got him into a sitting position, then used a cuff knot to secure his wrists. Then another knot with a separate rope around and through the cuff knot, and over a thick tree branch. 

Hoisting him into a standing position was another challenge. But you managed to and secured that around the tree. His legs were then tied together so it would be harder for him to kick at you. When you were done you stepped back, satisfied with your work. You climbed the tree, finding a comfortable spot to sit and rest. Just waiting for what would happen next. 

~~~~

Newt Pitwillow, the district 8 male tribute, jumps awake as the sound of birds chirping near him. He's disoriented, his head hurts both inside and out. His muscles feel stretched and strained. His shoulders are screaming at him to relax but he can't. Blood is slowly dripping down his arms alerting him to pain in his wrists. 

A voice somewhere above him scared him as he looked around, finding you sitting in a tree. "Ah, you're finally awake.. I didn't think I hit you THAT hard." You smirked at him while cutting the green apple into slices and eating it off the blade. "But now that you are awake, the games can continue.. I'm sure this grew very.. boring for those watching." 

Newts breathing picked up as he watched you hop down from the tree. Every step you took towards him increased his heart beat. "Why.. Why are you doing this!? Where are the others!" He screamed as you stopped just a few steps away from him. 

"Well.. The careers are at the cornucopia, far away from us. And the two girls you were with are dead. Don't worry I killed them quickly, unlike you I normally have a conscience. "You kept eating the apple with a smile on your face as you enjoyed the panic and confusion on the boy's face. It brought you a sick amount of joy that this was going to be far more painful than what he did to Beck. 

"If you killed them like that, then why am I here!" He yelled trying to pull at his arms, but they were secure. You laughed and pointed up at the knots with your knife "You like that.. Learned it at one of the survival stations.. Don't think this is how they thought we would use it but hey.. Live and learn right?" Newt started kicking and struggling again, his legs raising combined to try and lash out at you. 

You let him continue to wear himself down, knowing that eventually he would stop fighting. And when that came he looked at you with tears in his eyes “Why.. Why do this? Why not just kill me?” Casually you tossed the apple core to the side, walking over to the bag by the tree. Drank some water before pulling the fish knife out and turning back to him. “Because.. It makes for a good show.. People like pain.” 

“Oh we are hearing the same words repeated back to him that he said to that poor little boy from 4! What a turn of events from our little goddess!”

"Shes turning into the Goddess of Death and I am. Living. For. IT." The other broadcaster said as he smacked the table to show his enthusiasm.

You watched the color drain from his face as he remembered having said that. “Only your pain.. Well.. It's about to be a lot worse than his was.” You stepped forward holding the knife up so he could see it. “Recognize this? I'm going to assume you took it from one of the tributes from 4, because it has their number on it. It's for cutting fish. It solidified my choice when I was thinking about torture methods.” 

“You see, years and years ago, a victor from 9 wanted to open a small training center. He thought because of our strength from the fields, if we could just train a little more we could have some more winners. It was a nice thought, he filled this huge room with books. Some of those books were about forms of touture our society doesn't use anymore.” 

Goosebumps raised on Newts skin as the cool metal skimmed his arms, the calmness in your voice only scaring him more. “Eventually I outgrew the normal books teens read, right? So I read up on these, the one I really wanted to do to you.. I don't think I have upper body strength. It's called the ‘Blood Eagle’. It's when you open someones back and remove their ribs from their spine, pulling their bones and skin outward to form a set of “wings,” and remove their lungs from their chest cavity.”

“My god.. That's gruesome. It would've been amazing to see, I'm so excited to see what she has planned.” 

“But like I said, I don't think I have the strength to snap your ribcage away from your spine. But I have something else in mind, something that will kill you slower. Put on more of a show, I'm sure you understand.” You said nodding with your lips pursed before smiling. You didn't know how to feel, that weird part of you had completely taken over. Maybe it was just your survival instincts on full blast, but then why hadn't you killed Newt immediately. 

Because you wanted revenge, and that was what confused you. But you boxed it away inside your head and focused on the matter at hand. “SO instead of breaking your bones, I'm going to flay you..” The smile that took over your face as you stepped towards him was chill inducing. Newt was scared, the people of the capitol were perched so closely to the end of their seats that one stiff breeze would push them off.

The mentors in the training center where shocked. They had seen a lot of things happen, a lot of mental breakdowns. But none like this, they were use to the ones where someone shut down. When they curled into a ball and cried until they died. This was scary, it was like looking at a completely different person.

Even just the way you stood was different, the tilt to your head, the look in your eye. You didn't seem like you. They were nervous that you would win, but you would be insane.

Back across town, Walking back into the groups large penthouse was Seneca Crane. All it took to convey the sucuess of his trip was a smile and a nod. The same smile that was paused and stopped on their wall. They would find a way to get this image printed and hung here as soon as the morning light filled the sky. The same smile was shared between all the men.

They had found her..

The one they would ruin.

~

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~

@avis15 @liballer @avoxrising @notplutos @asapkyndall @wolfstarfate

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust |

Chapter 9

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use, Disassociation, exploitation of minors, underage drinking

A/N: literally wrote half of this at work lmao. It’s been a WEEK so I’m writing the next chapter bc I’m angry about life stuff! Yay! Alright ily bye

Word count: 4.8k

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The ride in the car was stuffy, the air felt thick and tense. They were keeping something from her, she knew for a fact that everyone was keeping something from her. She picked at her cuticles which were raw and irritated by the way they had been attacked. The group was on their way to a party, a banquet in her honor, and yet she felt so alone. What President Snow had said just stuck in her brain, gnawing at her every thought. What did he mean? And why did her team react the way they did when she told them?

Enobaria had dropped her smile, looking at Hebe. The two women shared a long look, a silent conversation happening between them for a moment. Brutus simply walked to pour himself another drink, Furisha remained silent for once. Hebe looked at her first, “why don't we have a few hor’s devours brought in before we head to the party?” She offered, completely changing the subject. Furisha nodded, “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea! The guest of honor can’t be there before all of the other guests after all!” She said cheerfully, wandering off to bother an Avox for the fancy finger foods. Y/N furrowed her brows a bit, confused as to why the words seemed so concerning.

Now as she sat in the car, her team talking around her, she felt the familiar nerves in her chest and stomach. She just wanted to go home, but apparently this party was extremely important. Looking out the window, she watched the cars speed by. She missed the wide open spaces of home, the capital city was so cramped and busy.

The car slowed, pulling up to a large mansion, black marble with towering green shrubbery and ivy decorating the grounds. Peacekeepers guarded the gate and Avoxes stood in front of the entrance to serve. The place looked wildly intimidating, like a castle owned by a villain in a storybook. “Who….lives here?” She asked, her voice quiet. Furisha perked up a bit, looking like a preened peacock. “Mr. Marcus Pendragon, he was the game maker who designed the last 2 games and a few before that too! He’s notorious for these parties, a Casanova of sorts.” She wrinkled her nose slightly, her brows furrowed. “He tries to kill all of us for 2 weeks and then celebrates when a victor survives?” She asked, wrinkling her nose. Quickly Enobaria gave her a warning look, “Don’t talk like that, you keep those thoughts to yourself. You don’t want to piss off these people.” She snapped. The younger victor ducked her head, anxiety swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“Smile honey, cameras are gonna start any second.” Hebe said, her hand coming to raise the young woman’s chin. A hesitant smile came to her cheeks, a bit forced but then again nobody ever seemed to care. The car came to a stop at the bend of the driveway, right in front of the grand entrance to the mansion. Cameras flashed rapidly, the sudden white light stinging her eyes. Blinking rapidly as the car door opened and Furisha stepped out. She froze up a bit in the moment, just staring at Furisha’s gloved hand stretched out to her. Hebe leaned forward, whispering a small encouragement and nudging her towards the door. She took Furisha’s hand, the flashes only happening in quicker succession as she stepped out. People screamed for her attention, shouting as if they were dying and only a picture of her looking at their camera could save them from eternal doom.

Her team all stepped out of the car smiling and waving for the cameras, she supposed they were used to it. The fame and fortune, the adoring fans and crazed smiles. Brutus took her hand, slipping it into the crook of his arm. She was a bit surprised, she didn’t think he liked her all that much. His face remained the same despite the glimmer of kindness he had shown. He led her inside after standing and allowing a few pictures for a moment. Walking inside the opulent mansion, she looked up at the meticulously painted frescoes on the ceiling. Depictions of old gods toying with the lives of mortals, how sardonic.

She held Brutus' strong arm a bit tighter as he led her further inside the mansion. Citizens reached out to touch her, some only feeling a strand of her hair or the fabric of her dress. Furisha led them through the large hallways and into a grand ballroom. Black marble loomed in every direction, the same painted frescoes decorating the dome of the ceiling. Five gold gilded chandeliers hung over the room, four smaller ones backing up to a massive crystalline masterpiece. She watched the individual pieces sparkle in the yellow light of the ballroom. Citizens and dignitaries alike all clapped as she entered the room. She looked down from the ceiling to give her best smile.

The supposed master of the house stepped up almost immediately, offering a hand for her to take. “May I have a dance my dear?” He asked, his smile somewhat sinister. Brutus slipped his arm out of hers, stepping back. She looked to him as he did, earning a small nod from the elder victor. Apparently this was the plan, dance with the weird old guy.

His hand was sweaty and callous, a stark contrast to her now soft manicured hand. He led her to the middle of the large dance floor, directly underneath the glittering chandelier. His hand came to just below her waist, squeezing her hip. A wolfish smile replaced the sinister one. “You look glorious my dear, your stylist has certainly transformed you into a ravishing young woman.” He murmured as he pulled her close. She felt her heart sink as the music began “Thank you sir.” was all she could muster up.

“You must be surprised by the amount of people here to see you tonight.” He observed, beginning to lead her in a dance. “I suppose, although I can admit I’d also want to see who won the games if I lived here. The latest victor is always one of the most popular.” She replied, a content smile plastered on her face as they spun slowly to the music. “Clever and beautiful, a true diamond indeed. Although I must say, watching you in the arena was a true treat, such a quick killer. Our very own Ruthless Diamond” He complimented again, taking her hand and twirling her. “A ruthless diamond…?” She said softly, contemplating his words. “Not often we see a tribute with both hair and body covered in blood, you my sweet are proficient in your field.” He explained, his hand moving a bit lower on her hip.

“Thank you sir” She said once more, her shoulders feeling a bit tense. “I hope you’ll be open for another dance later in the evening. As I can see, a few others including the Victors are waiting in line. I can only hope I'll get to insert myself again” He started, his hand shamelessly slipping down to her hip. Before she could respond she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. “Mr. Pendragon! You sure can throw a party!” A deep voice slurred just behind her head. “Ah, Chaff. How good of you to show up.” Pendragon said, his nose wrinkled at the smell of strong liquor.

“I’ve been itching to dance with this lovely little thing, you don’t mind do you?” He slurred once more, taking her hand and pulling her close, Pendragon scowled a bit but nodded as to not make a scene. “Of course, I’m sure the Victors are eager to get a piece of this sweetness as well.” He grinned, taking her free hand and placing a kiss on the back of her wrist. She smiled nervously, looking at Chaff and then back at Pendragon, “I’m sure we’ll get another dance sir, thank you.” She said politely before being pulled into yet another waltz by the elder Victor.

The dance was silent for a few minutes, almost a bit awkward. She placed her hand on his bicep, unsure if it was rude to hold the end of his amputated arm. “You looked uncomfortable, are you alright?” He murmured after a moment, sounding remarkably more sober. She looked up at him in a bit of confusion, he smelled like an entire bottle of liquor had spilled on him…but maybe that was the point. “I’m ok, thank you.” She whispered back, feeling a bit less uncomfortable. Chaff nodded, “I’d like you to know, you aren’t alone. You can trust us, the other Victors I mean.” He said, pretending to stumble as they danced. She smiled softly, he was totally pretending to be drunk. Is this how some of the Victors survived? Pretending to be so incompetent that they couldn’t be trusted? “Mags said the same. I didn’t really think about you all knowing each other but I guess it makes sense.” She said, slowing down as the music began to fade. “Pretend to escort me over to some of the other Victors, you can meet a few new friends.” He offered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

He gave a clumsy bow as the song ended and she took his arm. The two walked over to a small group of other victors and he leaned up against one of the walls. Mags gave her a warm hug, kissing her cheek. “You did wonderful today. It’s too bad my Finnick isn’t here to meet you.” She said it that strange muddled accent of hers. Y/N blushed just a bit, “I met Finnick, just for a moment at the tribute parade.” She said, a bit embarrassed. Mags smiled, “Such a boy that one. Can’t help himself from talking to the prettiest girl in the room.” She winked.

Seeder patted her back “Oh stop teasing the poor thing Maggie, you know how young people are.” She scolded lightly with a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you sweetheart, my name is Seeder. I’m from district 11 like Chaff here.” She introduced herself. Y/N smiled back, “Nice to meet you too, I’d introduce myself but I’m sure you’ve already heard far too much about me.” She joked. “A quick wit, and here I thought she was all pretty dresses and hairspray.” Seeder joked, a smirk on her lips. “Not yet, I think they left me with some semblance of a brain…well sorta.” Y/N gave a nervous smile. These people made her a bit uneasy if she was being honest. She had been hearing about them for practically her entire life and now she was meant to stand among them. It seemed everyone had something to say about her appearance and with that came the casual touches.

“Have you been doing alright seashell?” Mags asked, noting a slight far away look in her eye. “Oh um, yes I’m fine.” She lied, that same crafted smile coming to her lips. The lie earned a few unconvinced looks but it seemed the question was put on the back burner. “You know to come to me if you have any troubles don't you?” Mags asked, holding her hand tightly. “I know you have your mentors but it can never hurt to have a few more on your side.” She smiled again, this time more genuinely. “Thank you, that means a lot.” she said softly. “We’ll be around too, You can always come stay with my family and I out in district 11 if you need.” Seeder said, taking her other hand to squeeze quickly before letting go.

Once again, as all good moments seemed to be, she was interrupted. Furisha put a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around and introducing a few of her supposed friends. A few other escorts from different districts, not that it really mattered which since she didn't intend on befriending them herself. A petite woman with powder blue hair took her arm, spouting about the beauty of the mansion and how all the wood was mahogany. She looked behind the woman to see the mentor from district 12, Haymitch Abernathy rolling his eyes. He sipped his drink, leaning against the wall with Chaff and speaking about some random topic. The gaggle of escorts led her to many groups of people, some stylists and some regular capitalites. Most of the conversations revolved around fashion or the food being served, with the odd question every so often about her. She didn't reveal much, only a few food preferences and tidbits of information she had gleaned about the way Hebe styled her. The silly people who surrounded her seemed earnestly happy to receive anything she would give them though, like a puppy receiving a treat.

After a few more dances with supposedly important men who all couldn't help but let their hands slip just a bit too far down her back, she found Enobaria again. She stood behind her for a second, not wanting to interrupt a conversation. Brutus stood next to Enobaria, noticing her quickly and giving his colleague a nudge with a barely visible smile. Enobaria raised a brow before looking behind her, a look of slight pity on her face. “You look tired sweetheart, you doing alright?” she asked, a knowing smile coming to her face. Y/N felt a bit patronized but persisted anyway, leaning in to quietly ask. “Do you think we can go soon?”

Enobaria chuckled softly, “It seems like it's about that time, it's almost 11pm anyway. I’ll pull some excuse out of my ass about you being a kid and we’ll get going ok?” she said, patting her cheek. She got the feeling she wouldn't be afforded the same pity next year, if she were to be invited that is. Being a kid only lasted so long with these people and she was already 18 years old. She could remember in times past where victors younger than her had been thrust into the spotlight directly after their games. Commercials, photoshoots, brand deals, all within weeks of their games. Two siblings had won back to back in years past, although she couldn't remember their names, she remembered that being their combined fate.

Brutus took her arm once more, snapping her mind back to reality. “Pretend to laugh at what I'm saying. Photographers are lurking and we need to look happy while we leave.” He instructed, leading her away from the main party. She did as she was told, laughing as if he had made an amazing joke. A camera flashed right on cue, capturing what could've been spun as a wholesome moment between a stern mentor and his new victor. Enobaria took her other arm after a moment, causing another camera to flash.

Just as they made their way outside, a car pulled up like magic. “What about Hebe and Furisha?” she asked, looking around to spot the missing members of their party. “They'll take a separate car later, I'm sure both are eager to network.” Enobaria said, taking Brutus’ hand and ducking into the car. He offered the same hand to her right after, helping her steady herself and she slid into the large backseat. She sighed in relief as she sat, reaching to adjust her heel. Brutus sat across from her, slightly slouching as he sat. “You're more popular than I thought.” Enobaria said suddenly, her voice a mixture of calm and warning. “Is that a bad thing?” She asked, looking up and between both of her mentors. Enobaria sighed, “I have bad news.”

She felt something in her blood run cold. “ok…“ She murmured, motioning for Enobaria to continue. “You aren't going home for long like we planned kiddo, at least not right now.” Enobaria continued, avoiding eye contact. Fear shot through her like lightning, “ What do you mean? Tributes always go home until the victory tour. Caesar always shows them with their families!” she said, panic rushing through her. “Usually he does, but sometimes…” Enobaria trailed off, looking at Brutus. He sighed, finally looking at her and nodding. “They just go home for a few days, film a few moments with their families, do the required dinners and meetings and head right back.” he said, his brows furrowed together a bit.

“What do we even do when we get back here?” She asked, trying to stay composed. Brutus just pinched his brow, stress apparent on his face. “We’re going home, you'll stay here with Hebe and Furisha.” He explained. “You’ll do what you're told.” She could feel her face getting hot, dread in her stomach and her palms beginning to sweat. Enobaria took her hand, squeezing it tightly “You have to be strong, you hear me? None of this crying, you're a Victor and you're district 2. You stay strong and dignified.” She instructed, her hand tipping the younger woman's chin up. Her eyes were burning but she took a deep breath, squeezing her mentor's hand tightly. Brutus subtly touched his leg to hers, a small way of showing his support. “I’m scared” she whispered, sniffling but keeping her tears at bay. She was met with bitter silence, only the sounds of the traffic around them. The car pulled up to the tribute center, coming to a stop before the driver got out. “Welcome to being a Victor sweetheart.” Enobaria murmured, bringing her hand up and giving it a quick kiss. The door opened and suddenly her hand was empty as the elder victor slipped out of the car.

Walking into the Apartment only moments later, she was once again greeted by silence. She missed the lively nature of before the games, she missed Finch. Missed when every moment seemed precious because she was sure she’d die in the games. Now she just wanted to disappear, she wanted more than anything to go home. Walking into her room, she kicked off her heels. Standing idle for a moment, her eye caught something in the mirror. A woman in a leather dress with dark makeup and wet looking hair. She didn't recognize herself for just a moment, and what a sad recognition it had come to be. She wasn't who she had been just a month earlier and somewhere inside, she knew she would never be that girl again.

She moved her hands to the back of the dress, her fingers working to unlace the corset bodice. The more her fingers worked, the more her chest burned. She sniffled, coughing as a few tears fell from her eyes. Her fingers only worked faster, tugging at the leather chords that kept her bound to the dress. Annoyance flared in her chest as she pulled harder at the lacing, she let out a frustrated sob. Tugging at the laces she only felt more trapped, she felt too many emotions. “Stop…stop it” she muttered, a choked cry coming from her lips. She stumbled to the bathroom, frantically pulling open every drawer and cabinet. A glint caught her eye almost immediately, steel and cold. Taking the scissors in her hands she brought them to the laces, a pained whimper on her tongue. She cut the laces, tearing the leather dress off her body and throwing it as far away from her as she could.

The scissors in her hand felt heavy, she tossed them on the vanity. Looking at herself in the mirror once more, she hated what she saw. Her face was red and blotchy, her makeup running and her hair a mess. “Stop crying” she tried to command herself, her fist clenched. “You stupid bitch, be better.” She said, closing her eyes tightly as more tears fell. Her body hurt, a few lines rubbed raw on her torso from the dress.

She could hear laughing down the hall and for some reason, it scared her. She looked back towards her door before looking down at her bare body. She shivered, looking over to the shower as she wiped her eyes. Black coated the back of her hand, smeared and watery. She walked to the shower, turning it on as hot as she could handle and stepping under the spray of the water. It burned her skin, but she felt something, she needed to feel something other than the pain in her mind. She sat on the floor of the shower, letting the stream pelt her face like raindrops.

She opened her eyes again some time later. The water felt normal, she wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Her tailbone ached as she stood up, a rush of dizziness hitting her all at once. Her body swayed for a moment before she caught herself on the door of the shower. Opening the door, she felt cold air rush over her body. Turning the shower off completely, she stepped out. Yanking a towel off the hanger on the wall, she shivered again. Ruffling the towel over her hair, roughly drying her face and body. Stumbling out of the bathroom, she rifled through a few drawers of the dresser closest to her. Pulling out a random pair of underwear and what had to be a ridiculously expensive nightgown. She slipped them on, letting the towel once on her hair and shoulders fall in a heap on the floor. She shuffled over to the bed, pushing the fancy beaded and embroidered pillows onto the floor. Letting herself go limp under the covers, she looked to the window across from the bed. Closing her eyes as she listened to the noises of the city bustling down below.

“Get up, you have to get up right now!” Hebe urged in a panicked whisper. Her eyes flew open to her blankets being ripped off her body. “What? What time is it?” She asked, only to be pulled upright before she could even finish speaking. “He’s here, president Snow. You have to get dressed right now.” Hebe huffed, clearly feeling rather out of her depth. Her nightgown was yanked over her head, prompting a small noise from her throat as her hair was caught. Hebe quickly tossed her a bra, rushing over to the closet as she put it on. A dress was thrown on the mess of blankets she usually called a bed and Hebe began to rifle through any shoes she had. She looked at the clock, 6:03 AM, he had come quite early.

The dark blue dress was pulled over her head and shoes were dropped at her feet. “God, give me a warning please?” She complained, only earning a small grunt as hebe zipped the dress up and fit a belt around her waist. After a moment she sat on the bed, slipping the navy shoes on as her hair was brushed through. “Brush your teeth and get to the sitting room as fast as you can.” Hebe said sternly, almost scolding her as if she was at fault for the diplomat sitting in the other room. She rolled her eyes, walking to the bathroom and doing as she was told anyway. Placing the mouthpiece in her mouth, she used a damp washcloth to quickly wipe her face. She felt like crap, hopefully the president didn’t take offense to her lack of makeup. That was never something to cross her mind usually but the Capitol had certainly made it clear that she wasn’t as good without it.

Spitting in the sink, she set the mouthpiece next to the sink and fussed with her hair. “Fine” she muttered to herself, turning on her heel and walking out of the room. The penthouse was lit up in the early morning light, chandeliers sparkling over every room. She made her way to the sitting room, a shiver rising in her body as the peacekeepers opened the heavy mahogany doors.

Stepping into the room, she saw the president. He stood, glancing out the tall windows at the Capitol below. He held a teacup in hand, taking a small sip before turning to look at her. “So nice to see you again, your staff certainly made you presentable quickly.” He commented, setting his cup down. “President Snow, what a surprising honor.” She said, offering a small bow. “Sit with me.” He said, motioning to a red velvet chair just opposite his. A small table stood between them, almost overflowing with a complete tea tray. He took another teacup from the tray, pouring a dark liquid into it. “Coffee? Cream or sugar?” He asked, handing her the pristine white cup. “Thank you, and no” she said, sheepishly delicately taking the cup from his hand, sure not to make any contact.

She sat in the chair as directed, holding the teacup on her lap. The president sat as well, giving her a smile that made her uneasy. “How have you been finding life in the capital?” he asked, his eyes trained on her as he took a sip of his own coffee. “Very well sir, although I must say I’m anxious to get home to see my family again this afternoon.” She answered, taking a sip of her own coffee and earning a nod from the elderly man. “They must be very proud of you.” He commented. “Your mother, father, and two siblings,” he added. Something didn’t feel right, obviously, he knew about her family, but it seemed pointed to mention every member. “Yes I’d hope they are.” She agreed, a twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I must ask, do you remember what I said to you at the crowning yesterday?” He asked. “You mentioned that I might be a valuable asset to you, sir?” She asked, “Although I’m not too sure how, after all, aside from being a Victor I’m just a simple district 2 girl.” She said, a nervous laugh following her words. his smile widened just a bit as he looked at her for a moment. “Occasionally, I will make deals with certain Victors. I’d like for us to have a good relationship. I’d like for you to be one of the Victors that I’m able to make deals with.” He said cryptically, watching her for a reaction.

“I’d be happy to be of any service to the Capitol.” She said, an uneasy smile on her lips. This was why she couldn’t stay home, this is what Enobaria warned about. “I’m happy to hear that, not every Victor is too happy to make any kind of deal. Some need a bit of persuasion.” He said, taking a long sip of his coffee. “I’ll have you back to the capital in 2 weeks time, we can make arrangements for your duties to start.” He added. “My duties, sir?” She asked, feeling attention in her shoulders rise. “Yes, of course, our deal will be very simple. You will do as you were told, you will follow all instructions without question. Photo shoots, advertisements, appearances, and of course there will be the times you must entertain certain special capitol citizens.” He said with a nod.

“You will do all of this and more, for the sake of your loved ones.” He grinned, nonchalantly taking a cookie off of the tea tray. Her stomach felt like it had fallen out her ass. “Oh” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “Of course.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m happy we could make a deal today.” He said, taking a cloth napkin from the tray and dabbing his mouth. He stood up once more, taking a small photograph out of his pocket and setting it on the table. “I’m sure your family will enjoy their new home in Victor’s Village.” he said as the doors opened once again and he walked from the room. The photograph laid face down on the tray, she was terrified to look at it. Her family was alive, right? Her hands shook as she reached and took the paper in her hand. Her face crumpled as she looked at what was once her family home, burned to nothing but ash. The cattle they had once possessed as a means to feed themselves and the community, lay dead in the fields. Her home that had been a haven away from town, a place to hide, was gone.

The front door to the penthouse closed with a finality. She let out a horrified sound as she stood, the teacup smashing on the hardwood floor. Hebe looked into the room, watching as the teen girl crumpled to the ground amidst porcelain shards and hot coffee. She didn’t understand, why would she be punished in such a way? Why would her family be punished? She retched out a broken sob, her hand slipping and bleeding from a glass shard. Was it because she had left the party early? Was it for dancing with Chaff? She racked her brain for any way she would have disobeyed the rules.

Or maybe it was for no real reason at all, maybe it was a warning. A reminder to stay in line or her family could meet the same fate as the cattle lying dead in the field.

[hlstead]

hii "I'm sorry for not believing you." + fluff + finnick pls 🙏

sorry - finnick odair x reader

warnings: no use of YN

all of my works are poc friendly

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The damp scent of the sea hung in the air as Finnick and I strolled along the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves providing a soothing soundtrack to our evening. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the sand beneath our feet.

Finnick's laughter, carefree and infectious, echoed against the distant calls of seabirds. His eyes, a shade of blue that mirrored the ocean, twinkled with a playful light as he teased me about the seashells scattered along the shore.

As we found a quiet spot to sit, the sand cool beneath us, I couldn't help but think about the journey that brought us here. The Hunger Games, a brutal reality we both faced, had woven our lives together in unexpected ways. Yet, in Finnick's presence, the weight of the Games felt momentarily lifted.

I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon. "Finnick, I need to tell you something," I began, the words catching in my throat.

His expression shifted, concern replacing the playful glint in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm sorry for not believing you," I admitted, the weight of my confession lingering in the salty breeze. "In the arena, when you warned me about the dangers, I doubted you. I didn't understand the depth of the Games and the sacrifices you made."

Finnick's eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"You don't need to apologize," he said, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of my hand. "The Games have a way of distorting reality. I knew you'd understand eventually."

A sense of gratitude washed over me, knowing that Finnick, despite the scars etched into his soul by the arena, found solace in our shared understanding. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the beach, but in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

"I'm grateful to have you by my side," I confessed, my gaze meeting Finnick's. "You've shown me the strength in vulnerability, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Finnick's smile, a mixture of warmth and genuine affection, lit up the twilight. "We've got each other," he said, his voice carrying a promise that echoed beyond the shores.

[lilmaymayy]

oh my god THIS WAS SO GOOD im so excited for this series i cannot wait!!

you did an amazing job writing😘

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends—

Summary: Dreams never held any meaning for you. Not really. Even the nightmares of the arena never held any weight in your mind except being a production of extreme PTSD. Until now.

Or alternatively,

Reader pretty much predicts Finnick's death in all it's painful, gruesome glory over the course of a couple of months through nightmares. And almost loses their sanity in the process. Almost.

Warnings: gore, nightmares, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, near death experiences, non explicit talks of prostitution and domestic violence, non explicit smut, unreliable narrator.

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

'These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss, consume.'

— Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI.

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Chapter One: Warning Signs. Butterflies.

Word count: 3.1K

Warning: slightly graphic gore, death, panic attacks.

'It's funny. How warning signs can feel like they're butterflies.' —Graveyard, Halsey.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It started slowly.

You never gave much thought to dreams or nightmares or premonitions or any of those things. God was a concept long forgotten in Panem, religion an anomaly, and if this country feared the supernatural, something as vile as the Games wouldn't exist to begin with.

But it started slowly. And it did the night you were barely holding yourself together as it is. At first, you tried to chalk it up to the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell, Snow's words still echoing through your mind. Your neck was soaked with Finnick's tears, who had spent the better part of the last hour begging you to not volunteer if you weren't chosen and you refusing to make impossible promises, knowing you'd jump in to sacrifice yourself if Mags or Annie's name was drawn.

If it were possible, you'd jump in to take his place before the escort, Faire, had even finished announcing his name out loud. But it wasn't. So the second best scenario you could think of was going into the Arena with him. At least that way you could protect him.

It wasn't his fault really, you'd have done the same, begged and grovelled in front of him to stay with you here, in the safety of your home, if there were any other male victors in District 4 who could take Finnick's place too. But there weren't. He had been sentenced to death the second this new, sickening twist for this year's Quarter Quell had been signed and approved and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

So you lay in the quiet of Finnick's bedroom, his silk pillowcase soaked from your tears and Finnick's wet hair from when you had gently coaxed him into the shower and washed his hair while he blankly stared at the wall, his eyes red and his knees drawn to his chest, looking smaller than his existence could ever be. Sleep escaped your clutches even as you desperately chased it, and the only thing echoing in the room was Finnick's rhythmic and even breathing against your chest, the waves from the beach behind the Victor's Village and the swirling of the ceiling fan overhead.

You don't remember dozing off at first, or the way your fingers stilled against the top of his shoulder from where they drew delicate, invisible patterns into his skin. But you do at some point, because suddenly you're in a place even darker than Finnick's bedroom or the reality of your current situation.

You're standing in the middle of a long hallway, like the ones in a mansion owned by someone who had only seen wealth all their life, the walls old and the moss growing taking over most of the old faded wallpaper, signs of grandeur clear in the way the golden details in the ceilings still glitter in some places. Recognition is a slow poison that seeps through your consciousness as you realise where you are. Because you know this hallway, you know this mansion. Because you had spent the better part of a month here once, when you had been reaped for the Hunger Games for the first time three years ago.

But you know this is not a regular nightmare about the Games, not something triggered from the announcement of the Quell.

The air is as suffocating as you remember, the smell of dust and blood and waterlogged walls making your heart thud painfully in your chest, like a warning sign and your grip tightens around the coiled metal whip in your hand. But something's wrong. This is not a regular nightmare about the Games.

No. This is something worse.

And you can tell, by the way Finnick's standing in the snow, his own eyes wide as he takes in the darkness that stretches as the hallway fades away in front of you both, blanketed by the fog, his knuckles white around the trident in his hand.

Because he's not supposed to be here.

Finnick mentored you during your Games, he never stepped foot into the same Arena as you. Not in the real world and not even in any your dreams.

So why was he here?

Before you could ask him this question, a sound that still turns your blood to ice in your veins reaches you both. You turn to him in panic and open your mouth to tell him to run, to hide, to do something but he's already rushing towards you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him down the winding hallways of the crumbling mansion.

Something is wrong.

Because this wasn't how it had happened. There had been no one trying to protect you in the end of the seventieth Hunger Games, but rather you were trying to run away from your district partner, Markus, who had been chasing you with a bloody axe at this point. You had been running from him, the blood from your head wound where he had bludgeoned you seeping into your hair and your vision blurring with every step you took. Mutts hadn't been chasing you, you had thrown a knife down the hallway you knew they were in to get their attention, to get them to kill Markus. Because you both had been the last ones standing and Markus was hunting you.

But that's not what's happening right now.

Even in your dream, Finnick's hand feels the same as it always does: callused from all those years of fishing and training, his skin warm and his hand making your whole fist disappear in it's hold. But right now it's clammy with sweat. Or is it blood? You can't tell. Not with the way your lungs are burning from the exertion, not with the way your eyes keep losing their focus on his golden strands, not with the way his grip on your hands keep slipping and sliding from whatever makes it hard to hold.

Something is wrong.

As you near the familiar door with the old brass door knob, that had saved your life in the Games, the one you had sat behind and listened to Markus' screams over Caesar Flickerman's voice crowning you victor, you trip and land face first on the the dirty marble floor of the hallway. Finnick yelps as you almost take him down with you but his grip around your hand never falters. His green eyes are desperate as looks down at you, his hands at your waist, urging you to get up.

"Please! Please get up! They are coming please!" His voice is frantic, and you want to reassure him, find a way to get him to the door, the door that'll save you both. But your vision blurs again and the wave of dizziness that washes over you makes you whimper.

At the sound of your whimper, you feel Finnick's arms wrap tightly around you as he hoists you into his arms, holding you against his chest and bolts towards the door again, his trident abandoned where you tripped and bile rises in your throat as you watch the mutts step over it as they run towards you both, growling and snarling at the smell of fresh human blood. They are faceless and slimy, grey decomposed skin hanging off their bony limbs and the sight of them makes every cell in your body vibrate in fear. Even Finnick's arms wrapped tightly around you couldn't shake off the terror these mutts induce in you.

You know you're both nearing the door, getting closer to your one chance at survival and you let some relief seep into your heart as turn to watch him unwrap an arm from around you and twist the brass doorknob, yanking the old wooden door open hard enough that it forgets to screech and pushes you into the dust storage room. You rise on your knees, ready to pull him into your arms when he would join you on the floor, closing the mutts out behind him when he's suddenly gone from your sight, snatched away.

Something is wrong.

Your chest heaves as a guttural scream echoes from the darkness of the hallway and you whimper as you crawl as fast as you could out of the door, towards the mutts, crowded around something. No. Someone.

Finnick.

The cry that escapes you is as animalistic as the growls of the mutts and you don't hesitate to grab at them, to try and pull them away from him with your bare hands but they don't seem interested in you, too engaged in devouring him. His screams feel like acid on your ears, burning everything that makes you. Even through the chaos of blood and flesh that seeps into your jumpsuit, your eyes meet his, his green eyes wide with terror.

And then they are gone.

"NO! NO! NO! PLEASE STOP PLEASE!"

It's your screams that wake you up. Your screams and warm arms tightening around you.

"It's okay! You're okay, darling! Please!" His voice is just a touch below shouting as he tries to be heard over your frantic screaming. This wasn't the first time you had woken him up, crying from a nightmare stemming from the Games. He knew, in these instances, he needed to hold your limbs down because of your tendency to hurt yourself in your haze of fear and panic.

But he had never seen you like this, screaming yourself hoarse in terror.

Your eyes snap open and the screaming stops, replaced by ragged breathing and uncontrolled sobs that sound like growls, the growls of those mutts, which make you just sob harder. You slump against his chest and you cry like your heart will break, his arms tighten around you, clutching you against him and rocking you gently, as if to mimic the tides of the ocean and the rocking of his fishing boat on the days you joined him.

It takes a while for you to calm down, your eyes frantic as they take in your surroundings. His bedroom is now bathed in the golden warmth from the lamp on the nightstand, the fan still swirls above you both, circulating cool air. And your heart still thumps in your chest as you try to will away the final images of the dream. But you can't. They still linger behind your eyelids, just like his screams still echo inside your head.

You straighten up suddenly, putting a pause to his gentle mumbles of sweet nothings and let your hands flutter on his skin like butterflies, as if afraid of hurting him. Tracing his face, touching his neck, checking for scratches, blood, the image in your mind so gruesome and cruel that you can't help the sobs that still fall from your lips as he gently cradles your face, halting your frantic movements. His green eyes shine with concern as they peer at your own, taking in your frantic state.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm okay. It's okay." His voice is low, as if he's speaking to a frightened animal and you can't help but feel like one, your sobs turning into slow hiccups as all the fear and fight bleeds out of you. He gently tugs you into his arms again as you take in ragged breaths, willing yourself to calm down.

"What's wrong?" His voice is a breathless whisper, as if he's afraid of your answer. You still against him, and your body sags, trembling in it's desparate attempt to calm down.

"I-I had a dream." The words feel like ash in your mouth. Your entire body aches from the lingering adrenaline and panic of the nightmare, as if you're still stuck there, in the winding hallways of the mansion that was the Arena, watching Finnick get ripped to shreds.

His eyes, still red rimmed from all the tears that had lulled him to sleep earlier, are concerned as he looks down at you, gently pushing back the stray strand of hair that was curling near your cheek.

"It didn't look like a normal dream. You were screaming. You never scream when you have nightmares." He speaks softly, still rocking you gently. You close your eyes, feeling the weight of the images in your head against your shoulders again like a separate entity, haunting you.

"It wasn't. You—" The words get stuck in your throat, as if burning the delicate tissues there on their way out. As if afraid of making it worse for him than it already is. He peers at you, curiosity and concern making his green eyes seem wider.

You take a deep breath, and blink as you take in your surroundings again, unable to meet his gentle gaze. When you finally speak, your voice is barely a whisper, as if afraid of what kind of damage they'd do.

"I saw you die. And it was...it was bad."

His eyes immediately soften as you turn away from him, a broken sob escaping your lips as he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss into the back of your neck. You're grateful when he makes no indication of asking what the dream was actually about as his hand travels underneath your sleep shirt, his shirt, to caress the delicate, scarred skin of your abdomen, as if to comfort you when all you feel is wrong, wrong, wrong. For dreaming something as vile as what you did and your chest aches at the gentleness his heart is still capable of after everything the world put it through.

"I know the...announcement of the Quell..." you both wince at the word, as if there's a curse on the word itself and in a way, there really is. "...has been hard to take in but I promise you, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. You just need you to trust me."

You exhale slowly, playing with his fingers as you continue to avoid his gaze. You could feel his heart beat in tandem with yours, so different from the frantic rhythm it had when you had gently tucked him into your neck earlier that night, to pull him away from the clutches of the panic attack bruising his lungs and mind in an attempt to break out of him, drown him. You shift and turn around to face him again, gently running a hand through his hair.

"You won't need any elaborate plans if I'm in the Arena with you. We can...we can figure it out. We won't need to be so-so scared and worried-"

He breathes in sharply, his eyes hardening a little and you feel your heart clench in your chest, knowing exactly what's to follow. "Can you please, for the sake of everything I love and care for, not talk about being in the same Arena as me? Please, I'd appreciate it a lot."

You sigh, pushing your face into his neck, his own sigh of disappointment at himself for losing his temper ruffling your hair like a warm breeze. He always had to remind himself how fragile you are, to not lose himself in the moment like he did with the strangers who traced the same paths on his skin that you did. You were different. You didn't deserve the rage he had saved only for those who had hurt him or you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and shook his head, feeling the telltale sting of tears in his throat intensify.

"Please, you can't-you can't be in there with me. Please-"

Your voice is frantic as you whisper, "You know I can't just sit here and let you go in there on your own. I can't. I-I will die of anxiety if not anything-"

"But you're not doing nothing by staying here. You're giving me every single reason to return home to you. Why don't you understand that?" His frustration fades, making way for desparation as he sighs again, leaning his forehead against yours. "I refuse to go into that Arena all over again just to die. I promise you, your nightmare is just that, a nightmare. And I need you to trust me on this, I will never leave you."

He ends his speech by tugging your face out from it's hiding spot in his neck and pressing his lips to yours, gently tracing your jaw with his thumb as his green eyes search yours in hopes of finding the trust he always does. "I love you. So much. So just trust me please."

Your lips purse at his words, your heart finally slowing as the reassurances of his words finally settle into your body like a blanket. He'd never broken any he's made promises to you, not really, but you also know that this is not a promise he's capable of controlling. You sigh, and nod.

"I love you more and I do trust you. I trust you with everything that makes me. But you have to understand I can't help the panic or fear I feel."

He nods, his nose brushing yours. "I know and i don't blame you for it. I feel the same. But just trust me. And stay here, if you don't get reaped. I am begging you. Please."

You don't reply to his pleas, choosing meld your body back into his as you hide your face into his neck again and his answering sigh of exhaustion a clear sign that he's tired of this argument. Not even one day into this new reality where you are both more than likely to die in a few months and it's already creating a wedge between you both. And you hate it. But you know you can't make promises like that, not when you know you'll break them. And you know he can't either, not when he'd jump in front of you and take a dagger to the heart without any hesitation.

That's the curse of devotion, after all. Death by another and death for your lover, it becomes hard to distinguish between the two.

You push those thoughts away, disturbed by their mere existence and cursing your brain for tormenting you as you kiss the skin of his neck, your voice a mere whisper in the quiet of the bedroom, the only other sound being the waves in the distance, echoing as they crash into the shore.

"We still have months to think about these things. To plan a strategy for either scenarios. So let's just sleep for now. Please?" You feel him nod against your head and tighten his arms around you.

You can't sleep again, not that night, your mind a whirlwind of the images from your nightmare and no amount of safety his arms provide seemed to protect you from your own grief.

In a way, you're glad they don't. You'd need more than just a safety net, after all, for what is to come.

────────────

A/N: ngl, this took a chunk out of my soul to write. Tell me what you think? All my love, Moon.

Masterlist

[moonligsposts]

Finnick Odair x reader

And I fell to the ground… I couldn't discerned the environment around me as my eyes could barely stay open due to the sun's rays.

Not far from where I lay helpless, there was the body of the tribute from the second district, without his head.

The fight had been to the death and that feeling of numbness, caused by I don't know what, hadn't helped me at all. I don't even know how I managed to raise my sword, since I was on my knees in front of him partially unable to breathe, and manage to complete a blow that managed to decapitate him.

Before entering the arena I would never have considered myself capable of carrying out such an atrocious action, but once you’re inside you can't wait to leave, but in my case dying was not allowed: my family is waiting for me at home, the last wish of a little girl from the seventh district was “Please, live your life for me too”, and lastly I promised someone that I would come back for him.

15 days ago

“Don't you dare leave me alone, there, without you. I'm begging you, darling. I can't live without you anymore.” My hand caresses his cheek; he is sitting in a chair with his arms around my waist.

“Finnick, you were a wonderful experience…”

“You were everything, you are everything.” His hands caress my back; I approach his lips and kiss them.

“I'll do anything for you, Y/n. My sweet girl, my sweet Y/n…”

“But please, not that… I don't want you to do that kind of things, Finn. Please, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you give yourself to someone who doesn't deserve you, neither your body. You’re gold… they don't deserve you.”

“And I don't deserve you, my love. I don't deserve you..."

“Don’t say shit… instead take me, Finn. Take me in your arms until the sun rises…”

“I was wanting for it for all this time, Y/n…”

We moved to the bed where we remained until the next day, the day we would have to separate without the certainty of being able to see each other again.

He was lying on his back and I was with my head on his chest.

“I think I love, Y/n.” I didn't react to those words; I didn't move an inch. I couldn't say I loved him because tomorrow I won't wake up knowing that he will be by my side but knowing that tomorrow will be either a goodbye or a see you later...

“Finnick…” I whisper softly and with a trembling voice.

“It's okay, honey. I said I think I love you… I'm not sure, yet.” His little laugh penetrated my heart… «I do love you» this was all I wanted to tell him but I wasn't brave enough.

Before it was too late, they took me from the arena and I was brought back to the Capitol, fresh as a rose: they had washed and restored every single remnant of the island, as if those 15 days had never happened.

My head stopped spinning, my eyes could see clearly again, my belly was intact again...

“We're here,” a woman informed me.

I stood up and felt neither fatigue nor pain, yet my right leg was torn until a few hours ago.

When the door of the plane opened, I almost rushed down, looking only for those sea green eyes that have encouraged me several times even from afar.

We had landed right on the roof of the building where I had been staying in the days before the Hunger Games.

As soon as I looked out of the plane's steps, a voice shouted my name.

“Yn!”

I turned towards his voice and saw him: a Greek God, breathtakingly beautiful, looking only in my direction.

I started running, feeling the need to throw myself into his arms.

How I missed… my mentor. Even if within a few days he had become something more and I had only understood it in the arena, when at the end of my strength his gifts fell from the sky, always accompanied by a note: “you're doing great, honey. ” “Keep fighting, sweet girl.” “Survive, baby.”

Every time I've got his messages I couldn't help but smile like a child.

Finally the meters separated us disappeared and I was finally in the safest place I could wish for: in the arms of Finnick Odair.

“Thanks, Finnick. You saved my life..." I whispered against his chest: his hands were one around my hips and the other immersed in my hair.

“No, you saved my life by winning that fucking game. How could I live without you?” He said leaving a kiss on my forehead. I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his eyes: beautiful but a little shiny.

“Finnick…”

“Yes, honey?” His hand moves to my check.

“I'm glad you're here.”

“Always, baby. I will always be by your side from now on, Y/n, I promise.”

Our embrace melted after a while, his hand took hold of mine and we went inside.

“Would you like to spend the night with me?” He said hesitantly, his confidence had disappeared: and he was only acting like that because he didn't want to force me to do anything.

“Of course, I wanna be with you tonight and the days after tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that… forever, Finnick.” A dazzling smile lit up his face: his lips placed a kiss on my hand which he held tightly in his.

“I love you, Y/n. You don't know how much.” My heart melted and I pulled him close to me, wrapping my arms around him. But he, with incredible speed, lifted me off my feet, placing my legs around his hips.

“You're coming into my room tonight, little girl.” Whisper in my ear “You want this, right?” I nodded. There was nowhere else I wanted to be but with him…

So I was carried into his room.

“Would you like me to kiss you?” He wisher and all I knew was that all my body was going on fire.

“Finnick, I'm yours, do to me what you want, I love you.” And this was the phrase of affirmation that man, as beautiful as the sun, needed to free himself from all that tension that he had to endure in those long days.

His lips ran down on my neck licking and sucking it. His hands reached up and unhooked my bra from over the sweatshirt I was wearing. My hands slid under his shirt, lifting it up, revealing his defined muscles.

“Do you like what you're seeing?” My response was only a muffled moan which, however, made him more excited.

While he continued to kiss my neck, he pressed me against the wall, I couldn't breathe: my desire for him was palpable and he was eager to have... me.

I took off my shirt and he threw away my bra, taking one breast in his hand: he squeezed it and rubbed his finger against the already swollen nipple.

Our mouths were one inside the other, and with his tongue he was devouring me: he sucked my lower lip, bit it and I tried to keep up with him but it was useless... I wasn't on his level.

Suddenly from the wall I found myself lying on the bed with Finnick pulling down my pants... caressing every inch of skin that he discovered little by little.

Once the trousers were off, he threw them across the room. He returned to my lips, careful to make his cock touch, hard, against my vagina.

I started lifting my pelvis moving it left and right, feeling his erection getting bigger and bigger.

“Careful, darling…” Finnick grunted, lifting his head and my movements became faster.

A guttural moan escaped him from those lips on which I rushed to devour them. His fingers reached the elastic of the panty and snapped it.

“Beg me…” And I wasn't even able to breathe let alone talking.

“Finnick, I want you, please…” with his palm he rubbed me underneath and I opened my legs more. I wanted every single part of my body.

He walked away from me, undid his belt, and took off his pants and boxers. He came back on me, leaving a nice mark on my collarbone as I raised my pelvis to touch his member.

“Stay down, Y/n.”

“Finnick…” his name was like a prayer, a cry addressed to him to speed up the process… but he didn't seem to care about my inability to hold back any longer. I've been dreaming about this moment for weeks and he was making me suffer before satisfying me, filling me up.

His cock moved away from the center of my legs and Finnick positioned himself right there.

“Let's see..." his finger traced a vertical line from bottom to top. "How wet you are, good girl." His head lowered and the contact of his hot tongue against my wetness made a cry escape my mouth...

“Yes, baby, let me hear you…” he said making me vibrate. He pinched my clit with his teeth and my hand dipped into his hair, pushing him closer and closer.

After exploring the entire area with his tongue, he began to make circular movements: fast, insatiable.

“Finnick…”

Between various moans and whispers of his name, I felt his finger entering me.

“Honey, you're so tight…” he said this time raising his head.

“I love it…” he smirked and started to move his finger up and down, curling it. Meanwhile, with the other hand he took care of the clit: rubbing and pinching it.

“More…” I wishered.

“As you want.” He put his middle finger to his lips. “Will you do it for me?” I nodded and took him between my lips, sliding my tongue along the length of him.

“Nice technique, love.” He smirked and finally I had two fingers of him in me.

I could easily come if he will keep going like that…

“Fin, please, I’m… close.” Another prayer came out of my lips. He just smiled and, finally, removed his fingers and brought his cock against my entrance.

It was so big, so bulky. I wasn't even sure if I could have him in me.

“Tell me to stop if it's too much painful…”

I wasn't scared at all, even if that was my first time and he knew it, all that I wanted was him.

Finally I felt his length in me, he entered slowly and his movements were the softest. As my walls adapted to his presence, he increased the intensity of the movements and I began to accompany them with my hips. And just when we reached a certain speed, my body contracted with numerous shocks and I came between moans and crying of his name.

As soon as my juice wet his member I saw a sparkle in his eyes and his movements became harder, more violent. My fingers gripped his back and I screamed his name over and over again. We both moaned and my legs trembled, but he didn't seem to get tired, in fact his movements, accompanied by the squirm due to the fact that I had come, were more and more violent but I didn't want him to stop, on the contrary...

Suddenly he exploded inside me, making me arch my back and fall my head onto the bed; filling me with him.

He fell on top of me, still inside me.

Our breaths were ragged and both our bodies were hot, quivering.

We didn't say a word until we were clear again.

Yes he slipped out from inside me and dropped onto the bed. His hand slipped underneath me and turned me onto my side.

“Are you okay?” He asked me gently and in a way that I just adored.

“I feel epic.” He laughed and that sound was all I needed to be happy.

“I love you, Finnick Odair.”

“I love you too, my loudest girl.”