#sam claflin x you

[allisluv]

i literally need some heavy angst like injected into my veins rn

could you make a finnick x reader fic where she was unable to be rescued when the arena broke and later he sees her on tv like how katniss saw peeta? no worries if you can’t <:-)

lots of love!!

god.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!victor reader

content warnings: existential crisis, pre-established relationship, katniss and finnick friendship, reader has been taken by the capitol, implied torture, finnick's mental health issues.

word count: 0.6k

author's note: there will (eventually) be a part two that follows on from another request :)

Finnick has never had strong opinions in whether or not a God exists. He doesn't know if he believes that when you die, you go to this good, beautiful place called heaven. He doesn't know if he believes that you don't, either.

What he does know is that he doesn't think it's fair to judge if people will spend their afterlife condemned to this so-called hell based solely on their mistakes.

All of these thoughts have never really bothered him. He didn't find it particularly interesting or necessary to spend his free time having an existential crisis.

But ever since The Quarter Quell ended three weeks ago and he has been confined to this dimly lit hospital room, he can not stop himself from wondering if the outcome would have been different if maybe he had believed in God.

Maybe if he had prayed more, the rebels would have gotten to you in time.

Maybe if he had went to church, he wouldn't be sitting here on his own, without you.

And maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't done so many awful things, this wouldn't be God's way of taking out their anger on the two of you.

Ever since The Capitol took you, Finnick has not had a solid grasp on how much time passes. He isn't entirely sure how long he sits in that hospital bed, wallowing in his thoughts. He only knows that Katniss is the one to pull him from his thoughts.

Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her eyes are tired, lacking the usual fire that gave her her name. "Are you coming for dinner?"

Finnick gives a silent shake of his head.

Katniss rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, roughly yanking him out of bed and onto unsteady feet. "I wasn't really asking." She gestures to a pair of slippers on the floor. "Put them on. If I have to sit through one more of Gale's rants about Peeta, Im going to put a bullet through my head."

Finnick's lips twitch ever so slightly. He knows that the medical staff would put her back on watch if they caught her saying that, but he's glad that she isn't walking around on eggshells around him, scared to put a foot out of line and send him into hysterics again.

Katniss gives him a poke with her foot. "Go on. Put them on already. I'm hungry."

With a heavy sigh, Finnick pushes his feet into the slippers and pulls on another robe to keep himself warm. He's just glad he doesn't have to wear District Thirteen's standard uniform; he supposes that being in the hospital wing does have it's perks from time to time.

Katniss practically drags him to the dining hall and stands by his side as they queue up for dinner. She doesn't try making small talk, and he offers her a grateful smile as they turn to find a seat.

Finnick's sea-green eyes scan the dining hall, and eventually flicker to the television screens that are slowly coming to life. His brows furrow and the breath is punched out of his lungs when he sees that it is a Capitol issued broadcast.

One that has you front and centre.

His tray falls to the floor with a loud clatter and he ends up moving on auto-pilot towards the nearest television screen. People scramble out of his way as if he's dangerous, and while that would normally hurt his feelings, he's too caught up watching your face.

"You're alive," Finnick mumbles under his breath.

Your face is hollow, with cheeks that have sunk in and your eyes are bloodshot and cold as you stare down Caesar Flickerman. He can't help but feel a spark of pride in his chest as Caesar tries to interview you, and you point-blank refuse to acknowledge his presence.

That's his girl.

The pride slowly fizzles out when he sees you being dragged out of the frame by two Peacekeepers, and it's quickly replaced with a fear that makes his blood run cold.

And then your screaming starts.

[reasonsmandy]

You Intrigue Me

Billy Dunne x Fem!Reader

✧.* part two — is there something lost in the sky?

✧.* requested by anon — Hi! If you're still taking requests can you do one for Billy dunne? The reader is a pretty popular well liked girl in the same way Billy was and she's basically the one for Billy but they never really cross paths so she doesn't know he likes her like that, they just stay friends. She's not in the band so she doesn't see them often but when she visits during the tour daisy realises she's who Billy's crazy about. Thanks in advance!

✧.* summary — He made you curious in so many ways and you wanted to know why, it was like looking at yourself in a mirror. It was curious how you mirrored each other and at the same time showed each other a new world.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 4.6k

✧.* 🎤 — Billy Dunne's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I didn't put Camila in this story because I didn't want her to be cheated on or have her heart broken, so we're left without her in this universe :)

There were layers in you that weren't easy to access, not even for you, moments and experiences that shaped your being that were so complex to disentangle that just guide you along the way to where you are. Every passion, frustration and new encounter arising in your being during your life was demonstrated by you to others in only one way: music.

You've always shown everything you felt in music and you knew that's what you wanted to do in life from the beginning, and you followed that path with perseverance until you conquered where you are now.

Every chorus the audience screamed at the top of their lungs reverberated through your body and made your bones tremble, while your band played the songs you knew by heart since you were fourteen when you started creating them in your room, you danced around the stage, interacted with the audience and gave your all for each of those individuals who made you so proud of your work.

They jumped up and down as if it was the last night of their lives, the signs with funny phrases, praise for you, and of course several lyrics of your songs, some looked at you with tears in their eyes others with so much emotion that you couldn't help thinking that some drug was involved, but who were you to judge if the one you had this morning was still on your system?

Those were usually the best nights of your life, you loved the shows, the energy of the audience vibrating so intensely full of energy feeling every lyric just like you felt living what you write and sing on each album. It was her way of connecting with the world, of feeling seen by someone, of being heard. And it seemed to work when you looked at those faces.

The spotlights focus on you for a few seconds while you sing the last notes to finish, you close your eyes feeling that adrenaline through your veins once more, it was good to be sober to witness the ecstasy of it, the wonder it was to hear the applause and achieve what you'd always wanted.

You walk backstage with a washcloth slung over your shoulder, panting from everything you've just experienced. Someone from the staff you don't recognize because of the dark offers you a bottle of water and you gladly accept it, taking quick sips eager to quench the thirst that has grown in you since the fourth song. Your back was leaning against some speakers while you caught your breath, from time to time wiping the beads of sweat that descended from your forehead, you heard a few steps behind you and opened your eyes in curiosity.

"You were rocking up there." A man with curly hair and a waistcoat says with a broad smile, Warren Rojas, you'll soon recognize it.

"Thank you Rojas." You say while nodding your head, soon the other band members join you.

You knew very little about The Six, they were new to your label and they were buzzing around, you were happy for their success, after all it wasn't easy to get off the ground that way in the first place. But no one in their right mind could deny that 'Look Me in The Eye' was sensational, they were very good and deserved the recognition they gradually gained. They were on their first tour and Teddy Price had asked you for a favor to open their first show, you were a little reluctant to accept because you didn't know if your songs fit theirs, but something inside you told him to accept the invitation.

It was their first night and you could see the nervousness mixed with the longing to meet their audience, little by little they headed to the stage and again the crowd was agitated amid screams and applause. You tried to ignore the heavy presence of Billy Dunne a little far from you, he looked thoughtful, as if thousands of things danced in his mind driving him crazy with their jumps and twirls. You think about approaching him but are reluctant... There is something so intimate in his figure, almost similar to a mirror.

You had never talked much, and you weren't sure if you wanted this closeness with him, something in you said that getting closer to him meant getting in touch with those layers in you that were so unreachable. You blatantly stare at him, and when he looks back at you it's like a vulnerability attacks your body, you straighten your posture.

"They're waiting for you." You say nodding towards the stage exit, The older Dunne looks straight into your eyes and sighs. "Look, I know it sounds scary, but when you get there, the music takes you with it. At least that's how it is with me."

He listens to you, which surprises you, on the outside he doesn't seem like a good listener at all. Something inside you gives a twinge, you recognize yourself in his eyes in a way.

"They are here for you, take your moment and feel that energy in your bones. I assure you there is nothing like it." You say lighting a cigarette and bringing it to your lips, your words emboldened the word him and you could see it by the way he took a deep breath.

He walks up the stairs listening to the crowd cheer as Warren begins the countdown to the entrance of the song noticing the figure of Billy at the foot of the stage, he looks at you before putting the guitar around your neck.

"Thank you." He murmurs, you just smile.

…

The show had been spectacular, it had been a while since you had witnessed such energy as an audience and you had to admit that you had been ignorant to think that your music styles didn't match theirs. From the balcony of your hotel room you could hear the city quieting down, there is something curious about the early mornings that make your thoughts wake up, it was always difficult to fall asleep during these days on the road, it was like a constant reminder that moving through various cities was more belonging than what you called home.

When the energy of the shows wore off and you found yourself alone in that hotel room at your own mercy, it was almost bizarre how you managed to entertain thousands of people but never yourself. The early morning breeze hit your skin like a call to the earth, bringing you back to the scene in front of you as you felt your hair stand on end in the frigid air. Your gaze goes to the clock, three in the morning.

You sigh, engaging your body in a hobby, deciding to go for a walk when you notice that you wouldn't quiet your thoughts so easily. Yellow lights illuminated the hotel lobby, you can see the surprise of the two employees who were behind the counter when they saw you exiting the elevator, you offer them a small smile and head for the exit.

It wasn't much different from the balcony in your room, maybe just a little cooler. Maybe now it was more vivid to be able to notice the details of what you admired from afar with a better perspective. At the same time that environment is so distant and apathetic towards you, it brings you a strange comfort.

There is something admirable about silence, about questions that cannot be answered, about the curiosity that surrounds each individual. Being there in the insignificance of your being through the greatness of it all, was a call to question yourself every time you caught yourself admiring the sky too much. Was there any purpose in this relentless pursuit?

"Is there something lost in the sky?" A low voice brings you back to reality once more, you bring your attention to the man with long hair who slowly approaches you.

"Not that I know of." You shrug, opening a small smile. "But there probably is, if I'm lost here, imagine whoever is up there."

You didn't understand why you were being so honest with him, it was the second time you interacted with him but it felt natural, and necessary. Billy looks at you in curiosity, understanding you, you notice.

"Do you think there's someone up there?" He asks, the question makes you think, you shrug deciding not to answer. He looks at you arching his eyebrows. "You intrigue me Y/N."

You light a cigarette, offering him another, he accepts. "And why's that?"

He takes a long drag, you watch the way his lips wrap around the object and that for some reason captures your attention. "There's a fine line between identifying with someone and wanting to be like them." He blows the smoke to the other side, "I don't know how I feel about you"

His answer makes your legs weak, you swallow hard trying to understand if the intensity of your day confused the discernment you were having of this moment, or if it was those eyes that simply made it impossible for you to respond.

"I just think you're an interesting person." He adds, you can't help noticing that now he was looking at the sky like you. "You know, I would love to write a song about you."

This captures your attention more, you turn your body fully towards him now, turning your face in curiosity. "Look, it usually works, I've been doing it for a few years."

Your comment makes him laugh, you notice that such a sound warms your stomach, it was good. "But I doubt you can do a better job than me." You shrug, he smirks at you with a curious look in his eyes.

"It's a challenge?" You can see that he was shivering a little, probably regretting his choice of outfit as he left his room.

You cross your arms with a bigger smile on your lips, the cigarette was already ending at this point. "Let's do it like this, I write about you and you about me. And we will see which album does better."

His eyes gleamed with the idea, it wasn't a fight between you, but a competition surrounded by curiosity and eagerness to see where it would all go. You were full of talent, reigns of genius in every line and musical note, from there wonderful things would come out for the music industry for sure.

"It's a deal!" He extends his hand towards you, you notice his calloused fingers probably because of the guitar, you shake his hand.

"See you around Billy Dunne." You throw your cigarette butt in the trash can next to you, entering the hotel once again.

…

The "See you around Billy Dunne" was in fact a prediction of what would happen in the coming months, you didn't have much time together even more with the continuation of the 'SevenEighNine' tour and later your own. You exchanged glances and several conversations during some early mornings from time to time, as time went by the line that connected you two was gradually pulled closer and you strangely loved it.

When you returned to the day of the record company, you saw each other in some meetings and among the halls of the place, the tension grew with each look, with each simple touch between you, with each non-verbal conversation. It was like a growing need that yearned to be satisfied, and how to satisfy that? You two had an escape from such needs, a way to demonstrate what words themselves could not do, it was the melodies that you showed all of that.

Each new song was a new hook to create more, a quest to light and increase that flame, it was addictive and you loved it.

You hummed softly as you strummed the guitar in the empty sound room, from time to time removing the pencil that is resting behind your ear to write in the notebook in front of you, days like that were good... Being inspired and proud of what you created was sensational.

A sound makes you come out of the trance, your eyes go to the big door that is opened by the figure of Billy Dunne, surprised you raise your eyebrow without saying anything. He tosses a notebook above yours, sitting by your side, you remain silent he then runs his hands through his hair.

"I wanted you to see this one." He says with a sigh, you open a small smile taking the object in your hands.

His handwriting was complicated, but you decide not to comment on it, making an effort to understand his notes. You feel his gaze on you, you know exactly what that feeling of vulnerability was, having your writing in someone's hands at the mercy of their judgment is as vulnerable as sex. He was nervous to know your opinion, his eyes analyzed every corner of your face in search of something that showed what you had found, you made sure not to let it show.

The lyrics were like the mold of his core, it was deep, delicate, at the same time harsh and brazen, it screamed at you while holding you in its comfort, it made you think and question and be sure about the little you already know. It was like delving into his soul, it was intimate and vulnerable, the feeling that you know so much about someone while not having exchanged a word with him in your life was peculiar. With each verse you delve deeper and deeper into the knowledge and meaning it brings to a new vision, and you understand that the magnitude of such sets was not just for being a demonstration of his vulnerability but also because it made you question and go in search of your own vulnerability. The peculiar thing was that, you felt like you knew about him when in fact the music was leading you to yourself from the beginning.

You only notice that you are crying when your tear hits the page, you are quick to suck your cheeks trying to recover from the wave of emotions that invaded you after the bridge of the song, how he did it you had no idea but he was able to access the layers you never got in yourself. You bring your gaze to him, a small smile on his face shows he is proud of his work.

"You intrigue me Billy Dunne." You quote him, then applauding what he had read. "Do you already have an idea for a melody?"

"Daisy is helping me with this, I mean, we fight more than we help each other but..." He says through a weak laugh. "I'm sure it will come out eventually."

"I want to be the first to hear it when it's ready." The smile on your face was inevitable, as was the need to be closer to him. For an instant you swear you can swim in the depths of his blue eyes.

His sapphire eyes wander in looking at yours and your lips, he slowly approaches you, another silent need hovering between you, but it was no secret to either of you that there was little left for that line to be crossed, his hands gradually approached your thigh and you allow him to touch you, feeling the great wave of electricity through you.

You take one of your hands to his cheeks, and kiss him unprecedentedly. As your lips meet, the atmosphere around you crackles with an electric charge. The kiss is a fusion of urgency and tenderness, a long-awaited culmination of desire. Your hands find their way to each other, intertwining and exploring with a delicate, passionate touch.

The kiss is a revelation, a meeting of souls that transcends words. It is an exploration of unspoken desires and hidden depths, an intimate connection that takes both of you by surprise. Time seems to stand still as your lips dance in perfect harmony, each movement deepening the connection between you.

The taste of the kiss is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and longing that leaves you craving more. It is a sensory experience, heightened by the touch of your hands on each other's bodies, creating a symphony of sensations that sends shivers down your spine.

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the intensity of the kiss. It is a meeting of minds, a collision of emotions, where every touch and every breath speaks volumes. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and the passion that courses through your veins is palpable.

As the kiss reaches its peak, a mixture of desire, vulnerability, and connection fills the air. It is a moment of surrender, where inhibitions melt away and the depth of your connection becomes undeniable.

As the kiss slowly comes to an end, you find yourselves breathless, your lips tingling with the remnants of the shared passion. The silence remains, almost as present between you as the other feelings, he licks his lips and soon smiles, picking up his notebook.

"I'll call you when it's ready." He speaks in a hoarse voice, you open a big smile watching him leave through the same door he entered.

…

For Daisy Jones, Billy's creativity operated in a very complex and different way from her own, after all, she rarely did this sober. For her it was like seeing a rare phenomenon happen before her eyes, and besides, it was very curious to know what was the basis for such inspiration in the songs that were entrusted to him. He was a quiet person, he didn't even open up to his brother who had been there forever, so Jones's biggest hobby together with Warren was to go in search of who was the inspiring muse of the older Dunne.

They had become addicted to it, searching for little clues and hints Billy left in the lyrics, or analyzing every change in attitude, every longer exchange of glances, but they had nothing but big guesses. Warren swore it was one of the helpers Teddy had hired over the past month, but Daisy maintained that the songs were too deep to be about someone the Dunne knew for such little time.

But the redhead didn't know you, she couldn't take her guesses to you because she had no idea of your existence until that day. Eddie played around doing some riffs, catching Graham's attention, who wrote it down in a notebook nearby—noticing only later that it wasn't his, but Warren's. Karen hunched over the keyboard sleepily waiting for Billy to show up, Warren had gathered several cans and was drumming on them as he talked to Daisy, both of them smoking cigarettes.

When opening the studio doors it was like shouting at a room that had just entered, because everyone immediately turned their eyes to you, you smile small as a way to avoid more extensive hellos, Billy doesn't take long to come after you with a huge smile on his face, which does not go unnoticed by Daisy.

She looks at Warren with wide eyes, as if begging him to understand what she was trying to say, Rojas doesn't even notice. She rolls her eyes and walks over to her microphone putting her headphones, the musical aura has always been a home for you so it's not uncomfortable being there with these people at any time.

You really wanted to hear how they had shaped those lyrics as a team, creating and bringing music to life was always and will be the best art form for you, and to see that magic happen before your eyes was always spectacular. The song didn't disappoint you in any way, you were too proud of what they had done there, you wanted to cry again but maybe it was too intimate for you to let that happen there.

You close your eyes letting the melody invade your eardrums, your hair shivers, the butterflies in your stomach grow again and you feel like you belong. When the melody drops and you notice the song gradually fading away, you applaud them with a gigantic, proud smile. Interestingly, Teddy does the same on the other side of the glass.

Daisy comes to her senses then, she notices the look in the older Dunne's eyes, the way he seems light in her presence, the way he seems to involuntarily reach out to you. She asks Teddy and Tobias if they had finished recording and they release her, she doesn't take long to grab Rojas by the hands and pull him out of the room.

"What happened?" Warren was high, she could tell because she was coming off her own.

"It's her!” Jones exclaims, pointing to the room that had the doors closed beside them. The drummer frowns, she sighs. "Billy's inspirational muse is that girl inside."

"Y/N?" He questions as if trying to connect the dots, he moves his fingers as if he's doing the math. "You think?"

"I'm sure!" The redhead exclaims excitedly, it was as if looking at you she could read Billy's lyrics. "I've never seen him smile like that."

"It must be because he hates you." Warren shrugs, smoothing his mustache. She frowns. "Are you sure it's not Gabriela?"

"He never exchanged a word with her Warren!" Daisy looked irritated, the drummer thought it was funny.

"You never saw the two of them talking either." He snaps his fingers pointing to the door like he's made the best argument in the world.

"Looking at her is like I'm looking at songs from this album, Warren!" She says hitting the key of her argument, Rojas is thoughtful. "I mean, apart from my songs."

"I still don't think we can rule out the idea that Gabi..." He starts to speak but is interrupted by the door being opened.

You walk out the door with Billy Dunne at your side, you guys laugh at something he had commented about Graham inside, it was curious how good and comfortable you felt next to him. Daisy looks at Warren with emphasizing what she had already said with just a fixed look, Warren closes his eyes still uncertain.

"Teddy gave us a few minutes to spare before the next round." Billy clarifies, running his hands through his hair. "We're going to the diner nearby, do you guys want something?"

"No no, enjoy." Daisy smiles small, almost like a smirk on her lips.

"I want a natural sandwich, an orange juice and if you can, bring me a granola bar too." Rojas says adjusting his vest, getting a chuckle from you, an annoyed look from Billy and an incredulous one from Daisy.

…

The background music was yours, you smile small with pride in your chest but try not to show it. You decide to sit at a table farther apart, avoiding prying eyes, you both knew you weren't very talkative people at times like these. Billy asks what he wanted to eat, you do the same and remind him to order for Warren too.

"And? What do you think of the result? "He questions drinking some of her juice. Looking deeply into your eyes.

"It was perfect, I had no doubt it was going to be so fucking good." You say, biting the sandwich that rested in front of you.

"To hear that from you means a lot." He sounded sincere, you decide to believe him. "Don't ask me why, it's complex."

You raise your hands in surrender, causing him to chuckle. You then open your bag and take out your notebook, he watches your every move with curiosity.

"My turn to surprise you." You hand it to him gently, you felt very vulnerable now, he accessed his layers slowly and it was scary, but it was good when it was done with him.

As Billy receives the notebook from you, his eyes flicker with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He holds the notebook gently, his fingertips tracing the worn cover before opening it, revealing the pages that hold your musical creation.

As he starts to read the lyrics and notes, a range of emotions flicker across his face. His brows furrow slightly, indicating deep concentration as he absorbs the words and melodies you've crafted. The lines etched on his forehead soften, transitioning into a subtle smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

You notice a glimmer in his eyes, a spark of recognition and appreciation. It's as if your song has struck a chord within him, resonating with his own emotions and experiences. The way he leans into the notebook, immersing himself in your creation, speaks volumes about his genuine interest and investment in your art.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, his gaze shifting between the notebook and your expectant face. When he finally speaks, his voice carries a mix of awe and reverence.

"This is incredible," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "Fuck Y/N… This is indeed a masterpiece."

A smile spreads across your face, mirroring the warmth and pride that swells within your chest. His genuine admiration and appreciation for your work validate the vulnerability you felt in sharing it with him.

"I still have things to polish on it." You make it clear, taking another bite of your sandwich. "But I think something really good is going to come out of it."

"You think? I'm sure." He looked proud of you, it was a good feeling.

Billy looks up at you, his eyes shining with admiration and gratitude. He reaches out to place a hand gently on yours, a silent gesture of connection and understanding. The unspoken bond between you deepens in that moment, as your artistic expressions have transcended words and touched something profound within him.

His reaction is a testament to the power of your song, and you feel a surge of confidence and joy. This exchange of creativity and vulnerability strengthens your connection, reminding you both of the unique bond you share as artists and individuals.

"When is the album ready?" He asks, the french fries in front of him didn't look very good but he kept eating them every now and then. "I don't want to rush you or anything, I just want to hear you sing again."

"You don't need any excuse to hear me sing Billy Dunne." You smile small, admiring his beautiful eyes.

He doesn't know much what to say, so he watches you intrigued, trying to decipher where you're going with this.

"Meet me tonight at the studio, I'll sing for you." You offer by opening your purse and leaving money on the table for your order.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He asks without taking his eyes off yours, you feel your legs go weak.

"Come and find out." You wink at him leaving the room.

Daisy pushes Warren a little to the side, he complains about the slight pain he feels in his arm but continues with his role of observing the table of the two from afar.

"You see? They're clearly having something!" She says proudly at having figured out her big mystery.

"I never would have guessed, really." He shrugs, playing with one of his curls.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Billy asks when he notices familiar voices when he goes to pay the bill.

"Eating dinner?" Warren tries to coax him with a wide smile. Billy rolls his eyes, leaving the place. "Hey wait, did you buy my granola bar?"

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x reader

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

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

word count: 6.8k

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

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

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

For six whole months.

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

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

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

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

“Pretty cold out here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

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

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a virgin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your gaze remained on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

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

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay?” he asked.

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

“Okay, good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does it hurt?

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

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

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

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

“Fuck,” he breathed.

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

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

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

“Finnick,” you moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” you cried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He whispered, “Me too.”

[mcsstydia]

Faking it - Finnick Odair

prompt: you won the hunger games, now snow forces you to sell your body. your mentor, finnick odair, proposes the both of you fake a relationship so the capitol citizens won’t be interested in you anymore.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

Warnings: mentions of forced sexual labor

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

You won the hunger games. After weeks of fighting to survive, of hiding, of pure fright, of killing children who were not much older than you, you won the games. Now, a lifetime of glory and wealth awaited you, right?

You could have never been more wrong. You could have guessed that there was a flaw to what was promised to you. Sometimes, before and also after the games, your mentor, finnick odair, would look at you with a kind of concealed sadness, as if he knew there was something just as bad as the games would wait for you once you survived.

Finnick was 19, only two years older than you, but you had a feeling sometimes you could see in his eyes he had already endured a lifetime worth of pain. Turns out, your feeling was right about the amount of pain his heart had to carry.

Two months after you've won the games, when you've returned home, on a late Wednesday afternoon, Finnick rang the bell at your new house in the victor village. As you opened the door, you were unexpectedly greeted with the handsome man that was Finnick Odair. You had had a crush on him for forever, and it had only intensified during the time where he was your mentor.

Your stomach began to turn in nervous circles. Why was he here? Did he come to see you? Spend time with you even? Wait, that was not it. You could see it in his face. You were good at reading him.

His gaze rose from where it had been previously fixed on the ground to meet yours. There it was again, that sadness. ''What happened?'', you asked, scared it had to do with your mother, who was out of the house for the evening. ''Your mother is alright.'', Finnick said calmly, as if having read your mind.

You visibly relaxed and exhaled. Nonetheless, your grip around the edge of the door did not loosen. ''Then what it is?'', you asked anxiously, trying to seem collected, composed. But Finnick knew you almost as well as you did him.

''Can I come inside?'', he asked in turn. You nodded silently, your body began buzzing with anxiety. The pleasant turns your stomach initially performed upon seeing Finnick had now turned into unpleasant ones. Finnick headed for your living room and you followed him blindly. He pulled up an armchair and gestured you to take place on the couch. He placed the armchair so it was right in front of the couch. Both of you sat down, and then he gently took both of your hands into his large, warm ones.

This is how bad it was? Normally, you would jump in the air at the touch of his hands on your skin. Now, you could feel the colour draining from your face and the warmth leaving your hands in dread of what was to come.

''Just tell me'', you demanded. You knew he would search for the best way to tell you, to somehow sugar-coat it. Finnick looked at you, and you knew he could see in your eyes that this was what you needed.

''Snow sells the good-looking winners to the citizens of the capitol. At least their body. And now he wants to sell you.'', he said. For a moment, the information had to sink in. Then, you could feel the remaining control you had had over your facial muscles seep away. All expression fell from your face, your eyes made no effort to conceal the tears that came flooding in, and your hands began shaking in the gentle hold Finnick had on them.

His grip around your hands strenghtened, but stayed gentle. ''No…'', you managed to breath out, shaking your head in disbelief. You could feel all the strength leaving your body. Finnick seemed to notice, or he had anticipated it, because he caught your head as it fell toward him, his hands gently cupping the sides of your face. A thought came to your mind about the person you cared most for in this world. In between ragged breaths, you managed to ask ''Did he do it to you?'' The look in his eyes was all you needed to know it was true.

Loud, ugly sobs escaped your lips and you made no effort to hide them. Finnick made no effort to calm you, he knew there was no point in telling you it was all going to be okay. ''I've got you,'', he whispered into single strands of hair, your head still in his hands.

He rocked your body back and forth in an attempt to tell you he was there, and he wouldn't leave. He had begun to do that on the first night after your name was drawn for the games. You had been in the train on your way to the capitol, as he found you on the floor, weeping. He held you the whole night, until you had finally managed to fall asleep. He had rocked you gently, had promised to get you out of the arena alive.

At this point, you had thought he would tell that to every young girl he would mentor. Now, you came to the tentative conclusion that you meant something to him.

Suddenly, he whispered, ''I have a plan,''. The sentence brought you back to reality. His hands never leaving your face, you managed to lift your head just so much as to be able to look in his eyes. His beautiful face was blurred by the tears still in your eyes, and by your already-swollen eyelids. He looked at you with concern, and care, and suddenly you knew you were anything to him but simply another tribute he had to mentor.

You realised you were more than important to him. His next sentences only proved how much you meant to him. ''I won't let him do that to you,'', he began, wiping away one of your tears with his thumb. You could also see fear in his eyes, but it was fear for your wellbeing, for your life.

''It's risky,'', he continued and breathed in. ''But I would risk it, for you.'', a deeper meaning of his words hung in the air, but it was not important now. ''If we fake to be in a relationship, Snow can't sell you. The capitol citizens would then never want to tear us apart.'', he explained. His word registered in your head, and the word fake sent a painful, but quickly fading, stab into your chest.

''Would they believe it?'', you asked. Finnick allowed himself to smile, and his fingers carressed your cheeks. You thought you could read him well, but you weren't so sure now. His expression screamed 'of course they'll believe us, look at how in love I am with you', but he couldn't really think that. He couldn't. You would know if he had feelings for you, and you were sure he did not.

Something brought him back from his thoughts into the situation. So he said, ''I hope they do. That's why I said it's risky. If they do not believe it, if Snow does not believe it, we would be in a lot of trouble.'' You pressed your lips together, and then nodded. ''Why would you do that for me?'', you asked, and then imeediately wanted to take the question back.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ''Because I care about you.'', he whispered, holding your gaze. ''Once we do this,'', he continued. ''there's no going back. It will be us against the world, probably until we die. Do you realize that?'', he asked.

For once, you hoped he could not read your face, or your thoughts for that matter. Did you realize that? Yes. Was it scary? Of course. But was it scary because that meant you had to spend the rest of your life with him? No. That was the only part of this whole thing that sounded like heaven. Instead of telling him any of this, you nodded as an answer.

The next weeks Finnick and you prepared your 'relationship'. You got to know each other better, to make it seem as realistic as possible that you were in love. Many nights were spent like this, quietly, so as even your mother would not know. Many nights ended with your head in his lap, with his fingers running through your hair. Many nights, in which the both of you fell asleep on your couch, or in his bed, all the while holding on to each other.

When your victory tour began, while visiting the districts, you made apparent that you were a couple. Word quickly got out about the new power couple of victors. On the nights on the train, Finnick often lay next to you, to hold you through your cries. It was agonizing to visit the districts of the children who died in the games you were a part of.

Your new relationship was so important to the capitol citizens, that, once in the capitol, both finnick and you were invited to Ceasar Flickerman's show. So you sat there, with Finnick next you, his hand in yours. You had gotten used to the pleasant feeling that was ilicited whenever he touched you. You had gotten used to having him near, so it was not hard to appear happy next to him. It had never been, though.

The people loved you. Everyone adored the two of you together. So much so, that president Snow let go of forcing you into selling your body to the citizens of the capitol. For now.

For now, you were on your way back home from the capitol to district 4. For now, there was the slight hope that things would stay that way, and it was all thanks to Finnick. On this first night on your way back home, you hadn't asked Finnick to come into your room. He had spent the night next to you for the whole of the victory tour, calming you down, holding you when you cried.

But now? You thought Finnick was tired of taking care of you every night. You thought Finnick deserved a night to himself. After all, he wouldn't get many of those anymore that you were in a 'relationship' with him. So you lay there, on your bed, your hands neatly folded on your stomach, your thoughts almost as loud as the train on the tracks. When the doors to your compartment opened, you sat up in your bed, startled and scared. It was only when you saw that it was Finnick who entered, that you relaxed again. Somewhy, you stood up from your bed out of reflex. Finnick looked agitated, and for a moment you feared he brought bad news again. His mouth stood slightly agape, he was breathing heavily, and his eyes frantically scanned your body.

''I don't want to sleep without you,'', he suddenly blurted out. Shock was an understatement. You couldn't help yourself. ''What?'', you brought out as an answer.

The usually calm, confident Finnick he could so easily present himself as for the cameras was nowhere to be seen. He seemed scared, agitated, and lost all at once. ''I-..'', he began tentatively, and took a step toward you.

''I don't want to sleep without you. I don't want to, and I can't, for that matter, when you are not next to me, when I don't know you're safe, when I cannot feel your body next to mine.'' Although he obviusly tried to explain himself, you were no smarter than before.

Finnick could see that you were not sure what he was trying to tell you. He took a few steps until he stood directly in front of you. He took your face into his hands. ''This,'', he continued, gesturing to the two of you. ''It was never fake to me. I never wanted it to be fake. I love you. I have loved you for a long, long time, and I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.'', finally, he seemed to exhale of what seemed to have been a breath he had held for a long time.

Tears began pooling in your eyes. And for the first time in a long time, they were tears of happiness. ''Oh Finnick Odair, are you really so blind as to think I ever wanted it to be fake? I am madly in love with you.'', you finally confessed, and a grin so wide he had never managed to fake for the cameras spread across his lips.

''And now, kiss me, please,'', to any other person, this would have sounded like begging. But it was Finnick, and it was you, and you were both so madly in love nothing else mattered.

So Finnick did what you asked him to do. Slowly, he leaned down, and let his lips brush against yours. After that, it was instant. You both were so hungry for each other, so desperate to finally be able to touch each other in a way you had only dreamed of.

Hands were tangled in hair, and roamed the body of the other. Your lips and teeth clashed against one another, but the kissing erupted feelings in your stomach, and heart, and the whole body, really, that you had never thought could exist. When you broke apart, the both of you giggled, caressed each other's skin, and placed delicate kisses here and there.

That night, you fell asleep in each other's arms again, kissing, holding each other. For the first time in a long time, you weren't scared of the future, because you knew either way, you would spend it with Finnick.

[ficmenrhot]

Hii could u do a smut where reader calls finnick ‘Finny’. Like she moans it out while they’re yk and it absolutely makes him feral. And he’s all like:

“What was that sugar? Say it again.” Etc.

Say it Again

Pairing: Soft dom Finnick x shy fem!reader

Notes: Dom/sub themes, voice kink, praise kink, p in v, slight corruption kink, Finnick Odair is such a munch. Minors DNI

A/N: I haven’t had the motivation to write and I’ve still got a few requests in my drafts, I’m really sorry if they’re yours. Hope I hadn’t lost my touch

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Finnick was your first everything- first relationship, first kiss….the first one to break you in- and quite frankly, he intends to be your last too. He loves how he gets to be the only one to teach you all of these things- to be the person who corrupts your innocence, explores different ways to give you pleasure, and work your body better than you can.

Finnick is always sure to praise you during sex to ensure you’re fully comfortable with him. Sex was never really an intimate or enjoyable thing for him before he had met you, so Finnick wants to make sure you are given the experience he never did. More than anything else, Finnick would like to hear your be more vocal during sex.

Although you occasionally make a few noises here and there, letting out small moans and soft whimpers (because let’s be real, it’s impossible to keep quiet when the Finnick Odair is railing you), you often try to conceal your sounds because you feel a bit insecure about your voice. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick would like nothing more than to hear you moan out his name and to tell him how good he makes you feel. If only you know the ego boost it would give him and how his heart would race at a single comment.

This night, Finnick has you laid out on your shared bed, the mattress soft yet supporting underneath you two as he thrusts deeply into you at a steady pace. His warm mouth is latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, sure to leave love marks on your skin as one of his hand reaches for your clit to trace lazy circles. The sex, as usual, is phenomenal and your back is arched in pleasure, legs folded as they hang over his sculpted shoulders.

A few soft whimpers fall from your mouth involuntarily at the undeniable pleasure you’re feeling and you bite down on your bottom lips to control your noises like always. Finnick cocks his head, his mouth momentarily detaching from your neck as his lips form that signature smirk which you are so familiar with. You’re confused as of what Finnick is doing but you’re way too cockdrunk to care. His thick and lengthy cock is pounding into you so well, grazing over your cervix with every thrust and you’re surprised that it isn’t bruised by now.

Finnick grabs a pillow from the side of the bed and swiftly places it under the small of your back as he lifts you up and places you back down with ease. Your mouth falls open and you forget about controlling your volume, a loud moan mixed with a gasp leaving your mouth. The pillow has put you in an even better position, raising your hips slightly so that each of Finnick’s thrust is angled to hit that spongey spot inside of you which makes your toes curl in pleasure and back arch further.

“Hmm honey, you like that, huh?” Finnick teases after seeing your reaction, and you can only nod as you attempt to babble something incoherently.

“F-fuck…Finny, s-so good” you mumble, your mind in a state of haze right now.

Hearing your words and the nickname that just fell out of your mouth, Finnick’s eyes immediately light up and an even bigger smirk replaces the former one on his face. Although you don’t realise in the moment that Finnick has bitten his lips at your comment, you sure can feel his reaction to it as his thick cock pulsates in arousal, causing your warmth to tighten around him, feeling every vein and curve.

“What was that sugar?” Finnick chuckles both smugly and proudly, “say it again for me”

“I-I….”

Only then do you realise what you’ve said and your cheeks immediately turn pink, a flustered look appearing on your face which Finnick finds so, so adorable. You struggle to find the right words to say, only blinking shyly as you attempt to cover your face, but Finnick pulls your hands away as he stares down at you with the same smirk.

“Don’t be shy honey, your whimpers and moans are music to my ears……besides, your voice turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

Finnick whispers into your ears, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, ‘butterflies’ Finnick calls them. You blink, not knowing that that is what Finnick feels about the sounds you make, and it makes you feel better.

“Now..I’ll ask you again, sugar, what is it you called me, hmm?”

Finnick hums as he cocks his head with a small teasing smile, waiting for an answer.

“…Finny. I called you Finny..”

“Good girl.”

God save Finnick Odair from the things he is going to do to you.

———————————————————————————

A/N: to whoever had requested this, hope this is what you had wanted <3 Once again, all likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, so are comments!

[eufezco]

THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

[janitorhutcherson]

my husband

[ssweeterthanfiction]

finnick odair and silent ways he tells you he loves you before dating?

You Are In Love

content warnings: mentions of panic attacks, implied trafficking of victors

masterlist.

Finnick Odair, who has been there for you ever since you won your games. He visits your house everyday, flowers and a small bag of muffins in hand, that same boyish grin on his face when he sees you.

Finnick Odair, who goes with you to Victor's Village private beach, watching as you collect seashells, admiring how pretty you look in the sun.

Finnick Odair, who constantly brings you small gifts and knicknacks. He's like a crow, always bringing you shiny interesting items from the market and from the Capitol. He even brings you a rare item to District 4, a pretty little snowglobe.

Finnick Odair, who is by your side anytime you feel under the weather. He makes you soup, makes sure you stay hydrated, makes sure you're warm and comfortable, never letting you lift a single finger.

Finnick Odair, who accompanies you to the market, carrying all your bags/baskets back to your house, insisting they aren't at all heavy.

Finnick Odair, who is always by your side during Capitol events. Always holding you hand, hooking his arm with yours, kissing your knuckles softly, and always finds a way to dance with you. And whenever he does, it always seems lik your both in your own world, like the snowglobe he brought you from one of his trips to the Capitol, protected by a delicate bubble of glass.

Finnick Odair who helps you through panic attacks. He holds you close to his chest, presses his lips to your forehead, strokes your hair and whispers comforting words into your ears.

"It's okay angel."

"I'm right here."

"You're safe with me."

***Finnick Odair, who protects you from the horrors of the Capitol and the citizens, making a deal with Snow that he'll take on more clients under the condition that you won't be harmed in any way.

Finnick Odair, who realizes he is more in love with you than he originally thought.

Finnick Odair, who is the best boyfriend ever. He is your soulmate, you are his. You both are in love. True love.

***part two. (a continuation of the *** one.)

[lqveharrington]

For your 2k celebration, I’d love something with peace by Taylor and Finnick Odair x reader. Love your work!! 🩷🩷

Peace | F.O.

summary: even after everything you and finnick have been through, peace would never be an option

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

includes: arguing, yelling, pregnancy, marriage, kissing

a/n: first time writing for finnick! 🫶🏼also i'm apparently a whole foot shorter than finnick, i didn't know that until i searched up his height (not sam. he's six inches taller than me)

In your entire relationship with Finnick, you never thought he would yell. You knew he was in the game twice, but he never yelled at you once and you didn't think it would happen. Especially if you were arguing over an important subject.

It was like his fight or flight instincts switched on. The danger that lived in him flashed red and he couldn't stop the fire that left him. Even if that meant blazing the trail your way.

“How is it my fault?” You run your fingers through your hair and look outside the cottage, biting your lip in frustration. It wasn't like you asked for it to happen at this very moment in time. All you wanted was to see him happy, but he reacted in the worst way possible. “I didn’t know!”

“We should’ve been more careful! Who knows if the games will ever happen again and I have to play for the third time?” Finnick paced the length of the kitchen before resting his arms on the counter, gripping the edge like it could break at any moment. His face contorted, small huffs leaving his lips. “What if you get chosen? What if we both do? Then what will happen?”

You shake your head at him and spin the ring on your finger, eyes full of exasperation. “What do you want me to do, Finn? Get rid of the baby?”

The rolling waves from the beach outside took over the silence as the wind blew strands of your hair away from your face. You didn’t know what he was going to say. He looked sick, but you doubted he truly was. You wanted something to be said — anything — until Finnick looked at you with a blank face.

“If that what it takes for you to be safe — yes.”

Your face instantly twists in disbelief, stepping away from the man you loved. “Unbelievable.” You turned and headed for the front door, pulling your shawl on tightly. As your hands reached for the handle, you spoke once more, voice so quiet he could barely hear it over the roaring ocean. “This used to be our dream, you know?”

Start of Flashbacks

“Finnick?” You rushed inside the cottage, looking for the blue-eyed man. You heard his voice from the bedroom and you quickly entered, sitting on the floor in front of him. “Annie just told me the champions are being chosen for the games again — “

“It’s a quarter quell.” Finnick murmured and took your hands in his, tracing invisible shapes into your palm. He sighed softly and kissed your knuckles, “They want to put in old winners to see who would win from the best.”

You blink rapidly and fight the tears already forming. You thought he was done with stressing over the games, but to put a winner back in was cruel and inhuman. Although the games itself were already tragic. “That shouldn’t be allowed! You’re the only male winner left in District 4!“

“I’ll be okay.” He tried reassuring you even if he wasn’t confident in his own abilities. He squeezed your hands softly and met your teary-eyed expression. “Just promise you won’t watch the games.”

Your face falls as your eyes searching his. You grip his hand tighter and shake your head, hands shaking in fear. “Finnick — “

“Promise me.”

You swallow a sob and nod, looking down at the wooden floor. You wished it would swallow you up rather than wait for Finnick to come home to you. “I promise, I won’t watch the games. But you can’t stop me from going to the reaping. I will go.”

Finnick let his free hand drift to your cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Sunshine…” He pursed his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of your heads, letting you calm down before he spoke again. “Once I get out and everything is over, we’ll start our own life together, yeah?”

You slowly breathe, listening intently to his words. The world you lived in was never at peace and you knew that his words were words until the action was completed. It’s just how Panem worked.

“The first thing I’ll do is marry you.” He whispered and watched your lips twitch up at the thought. “Maybe a mini you? Mini me?”

You let out a small laugh and tilt your head, playing with his hands. “More than one Finnick? That’d be a sight.”

He linked your hand together and pressed a kiss to the back of it, making your finally grin.

“I’m holding you to your words, Odair, be careful.

—

“You know, you’re going to get sick if you stay out here long enough with no coat, Sunshine.” Finnick's voice rang out from behind you, making you whip around.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. It had been days — weeks — since you last saw the love of your life and there he was. His face was scratched and his hair grew a little, but otherwise, he was unharmed. Although you weren’t sure what happened mentally.

“Finnick.” You whisper and ran into his open arms, clinging onto him tightly — afraid that if you let go he would disappear. “I missed you so much. I forbid everyone around to tell me what happened in the games and I didn’t want to hear who died and who— I couldn’t—“

“That’s okay, you’re okay.” He ran his fingers through your hair and pressed a kiss to the top, holding onto you equally as tight. “I’m okay.”

“I was so scared.” You bury your head in his chest and squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to completely be one with him. “I thought you wouldn’t come home to me.”

“I’m here, see?” He slowly moved your hand over the left side of his chest and held it there for a minute, watching your breathing match the steady beat. “Heart still beating just for you.”

You give him a soft smile and open your eyes again, meeting his loving ones. You didn’t know what you did to deserve an amazing partner, but you sure as hell wasn’t complaining. You just smiled up at him and knew he was all it took to make you happy in the entire world.

“I missed you.” You whispered and brushed some of his hair away from his eyes, letting scratching his scalp. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I wouldn’t dare think about it.” Finnick kissed your cheek before pulling the drawstring bag to his front and began digging inside of it. “I have a gift for you.”

You take a small step back and raise a brow, scanning over his body to ensure he truly was alright. “You do?”

“From the Capitol.” He waved his hand around before producing a ring box from the bag, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I don’t know if you’ll love it, but…”

“Oh, Finn.” You covered your mouth and watched him get down on one knee.

He opened the box to reveal the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You would bet your entire life savings that Mags helped him pick it out. You wondered where she was... You heard multiple people got out of the game, but where was she? She was like a mother to you.

“I said I would marry you the second I got out of there, didn’t I?” Finnick held the ring out to you and gave you a bright smile, your name falling from his lips. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.” You whisper with so much devotion and love before tackling him to the floor of the front porch, kissing him deeply. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

He caught you before you could both slam onto the wood, one hand on your back while the other around your shoulders. Finnick grinned into the kiss and pulled away, eyes bouncing around your facial features.

“I love you.” You murmur and watch him slip the beautiful ring onto your finger, the stones glistening in the sunlight. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Wouldn’t miss coming home to you.” Finnick kissed your cheek and let you rest your head on his shoulder. “Ever.”

End of Flashbacks

“What did I say about sitting outside with no coat on, Sunshine?”

You scoff and turn away at the sound of your husband, pulling the thin shawl around you tighter as sprays of salt water hits your exposed skin. You came outside to think, not get lectured by Finnick.

“I’m not talking to you, Finnick.”

He sighed before putting a blanket around your shoulder and taking a seat beside you, gaze shifting to the vast ocean he loved. He watched the waves crash into the shore for a few seconds before speaking.

“Do you remember when I got home from the quarter quell games? How you told me you were so scared for me?" Finnick asked as he played with the sand beneath his fingers, the grains slipping through every now and then. "Well, I'm scared for you."

He paused and shook his head, pulling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. "Everything has changed and I'm afraid everything will go back the way it used to be."

You sat quietly and took in his words, burying your head in the blanket. It smelled like flowers and citrus. It smelled like Finnick. You briefly looked at him and saw the tiredness under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. All you saw was the toll the games and rebellion took out on him.

"I’m sorry I shouted earlier… I know we've been wanting this for so long, but it's terrifying." Finnick admitted and dropped all the sand from his shaking hands. "I'm scared to come home one day and you're gone from this world. I'm scared to leave you on your own, especially when you're pregnant."

You frown and take his shaking hand, squeezing it softly until he looked over at you. "I'm scared too, Finn."

He stared at you as you spoke, the blanket you wore now upon his shoulders as well. He looked down at your hands, the ones that wrote his name over and over again until the shaking stopped.

"You think I don't know how scary it is to not know what will happen to us?" You whisper and purse your lips, squeezing his hand once more. "But I know we'll be okay."

"Why is that?"

"Because we have each other." You brought his hand up to his face and flashed the wedding ring to him, making eye contact with him. "With all the hell we've been through, we always had each other."

You watch as his mind gears begin turning, giving him a small smile. "Our job now is to protect our child. We're not running or fighting. We've settled for them."

Finnick shut his eyes and kissed the back of your hand, thinking about his past. Ever since he was fourteen, he was never able to get past the horrors he’s seen and he wasn’t sure if he would ever come to terms with them.

"I could never give us peace." He met your eyes again, the blue in his eyes darkening with all the emotional turmoil in his mind.

"But you're enough for me." You take his clasped hand and place it on your lower half, his hand warm against you. "All I want is to be with you."

You rest your forehead on his and breathe, feeling him thumb the skin of your stomach. "That's my peace."

Finnick hummed and leaned in, giving your a quick kiss to the lips. "You really know how to make me fall for you."

"Well, I would like to think so— Finnick!" You gasp as he pulls you down into the sand, your hair now covered in grains of sand. He pressed a tender kiss on your lips, making your heart beat faster. When you separate, your vision is a little hazy and you blink it away, grinning stupidly. "What was that for?"

"A thank you and a promise." He brushed the back of his fingers on your cheek, dusting the sand off and ensuring you were alright from pulling you down. "I'll protect you and our child with my life."

You lean into his touch and look between his eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too." He pecked your cheek once, twice, thrice before pulling away and matching your bright smile. "More than you'll ever know, Sunshine."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[st0nesnglitter]

i’m on my knees PLEASE do reader realizing something non-sexual they do turns finnick on + him trying to deny it until he cracks 🤭🙏

Okay a little self-indulgent cause I’m an eyebrow scruncher (SUE ME I DARE YA)

this sucks

You were standing in the produce section of the grocery store, squinting your eyes to try and decipher Finnicks scrawly handwriting. As you see him come back with one liter of your milk you turn the list to him, looking up with a little line between your brows.

“Finn, what does it say here?” You ask, fingernail under the word.

But he seems lost for a couple of seconds, eyes big and glassy for just a beat, before shaking his head ever so slightly. He glances at the paper but quickly lifts his eyes back to your face.

“Um.. carrots” he mumbles.

You turn to go grab a bag of the vegetable but Finnick gets a hold of your wrist. His big hands take your face gently and kisses you, deeply. Way too passionate for a grocery run on a Wednesday. And when he pulls away he keeps his hands on your cheeks a little extra.

The incident leaves you wondering, but it isn’t until later you can connect the dots.

You were situated in your loveseat, wrapped in a blanket and a cup of tea forgotten beside you, reading your book. Finnick was in his opposite loveseat, eyes glancing over his book multiple times towards you. As you encountered a difficult sentence your eyebrows knitted together, re-reading it over and over.

You hear Finnick clear his throat, lifting your eyes to him with a tilt of your head.

“Something wrong, Finn?” You ask softly, placing down the book open in your lap as you reach over to draw shapes over his ankle.

“No, no.. just keep reading, sugar” he mumbles, golden cheeks tinged with pink.

So you do. But as you try to emerge into the writing you notice how Finnicks eyes doesn’t leave your face. So you close your book and sit up a little straighter.

“I can tell there’s something on your mind, Finn” you say, head tilted with a little crease between your brows.

He stares at you blankly for a moment, cheeks still flushed, before reaching up to scratch his neck.

“It’s just..” he starts “just when your brows scrunch together like that.. I-i don’t know”

You smile, very amused by his confession, and you place your hand back on his ankle.

“It turns you on?” You ask with a slight giggle, scrunching them together on purpose for him.

“Fuck off” Finnick scoffs, turning away from you with a slight pull on his pants.

“You can’t be serious!”

He looks at you with an annoyed little pout, dragging his finger over the back of your hand. You look down at his touch, then up at him again, eyes lingering on his groin. A not so subtle tent residing there.

“Really? Right now?” You ask him, shaking your head slightly, “you get that turned on?”

“Well shame on me for getting hard for my girlfriend!”

reqs are open

[slutforfinnickodair]

DRESS | FINNICK ODAIR

Summary: You and Finnick have been dating for atleast five years now, and since you've been choosen as a tribute for the 74th hunger games, he makes the last night with you the most beautiful night you've ever experienced.

Warnings: oral ( F!receiving ), fingering, mentor Finnick being a warning himself, slight handjob, P in V, Unprotected sex, little bit of breeding kink.

Pairing: Finnick Odair x F!reader

Author's note: First post, kind of feeling weird for writing this one. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.9k

—

- We are not even in the house yet. - I said while Finnick carried me to the fourth level of the penthouse, making me smile at him. He let me go with one of his hands and started to search for his keys in his back pocket, knitting his brows as he got it and pushed me against the front door, pushing the key into the lock while he leant into me, kissing my dry lips.

He twisted the key in the lock, still kissing me while I reached for the knob, searching for it and twisting it once I found it. Finnick walked into his suite with me, kicking the door once he was in so it was shut. I pulled away for air, chuckling at him and resting my forehead against his.

- You taste like red wine. - I said while licking my lips and pressing a peck onto his lips once again before I wiggled my legs for him to put me down, but he only held me stronger.

- You can have some after I'm done with you young lady. - He said while smirking, his hand going downways — him turning towards his room. The pet name he gave hit harder than the actual thought that maybe tomorrow I won't be able to walk with barefoot — let alone in heels.

- Hey, I'm only three years younger. - I whined while he let out a short laugh, leaning in to kiss me again while my arms went around his neck — playing with his blonde locks. Finnick let my thigh go while he opened his bedroom door and placed me down on the bed — climbing on the mattress and kicking off his shoes.

He kept pushing me up on the bed until my head was on the complete other side of the mattress, him on top of me while I held one of his cheeks, my other hand going down on his strong shoulders and his back. I felt up the fabric of his shirt, my hips bucking up to meet his crotch while he groaned into my mouth.

One of his hands went behind my back, lifting me up and making me arch my back while he pulled down the zipper of my dress, getting the fabric off my chest. Finnick got up from the bed, sliding the dress off my body and tossing it somewhere in the room while he kneeled back onto the bed, between my legs that were separated just enough so he could lay between them.

His kisses were slow, almost sloppy as his hands went down on my naked chest, kneading my breasts while I lifted my leg up, laying it on his waist while he kissed his way down on my neck, searching for my sweet spot. Once he found it he wasn't urgent to go down on me as fast as possible — indeed he kept licking and biting on the skin of my neck.

I rolled my head back onto the sheets, my hands going down on his torso, tracing every line while he set his knee between my thighs, so if I moved his knee would be brushing against my clothed heat. I reached the hem of his shirt, my hands going under it while I traced his slight abs, up to his waist where I squeezed the skin making him let out a groan onto the skin of my neck.

One of my hands went to his naked back, while the other one went down again on his torso, reaching his belt which I left alone and slid my hand into his jeans, finding his boxers. I traced the outline of the waistband, biting my lower lip as I went more down, now my fingertips laying on his erection, slowly rubbing the fabric and sometimes fully laying my hand over it — slightly squeezing.

Finnick went down to my chest, leaving hickeys on his way while he reached my left breast, running his hand on it, the cold of his rings making my nipples harden. He looked up at me while he kept kissing my squishy flesh, sometimes biting at it while running his thumb across my nipple, making it sensitive. He slowly moved down, placing it into his mouth before he began sucking at it, making my hand that was on his back, rest now on his head while he kept biting at my nipple.

He pulled away with a hum, not wasting a second before he attacked my other breast, giving the same amount of attention he did give the left one. I shut my eyes as I felt warmness collect in my middle, my hand slowly going into his briefs — the fingertip of my pointer collecting the precum on his head, and slowly covering his whole base with it.

Finnick let out a low groan and parted away from my breast, staring down at me while I looked up at him so innocently, like I wasn't stroking his cock right now. He smirked at me before pulling away from my touch, standing up from the bed while I stared up at him. Biting my lips — I parted my legs more away from each other, making him run a hand over my thigh. He gave it a harsh slap before kneeling down in front of the bed, facing my clothed middle.

He placed his mouth against my inner thighs, placing hot — wet kisses on them, moving towards the part where I was aching the most for him, making me get on my elbows so I could watch him. He slid his hand under my knees, bending them and kissing down on my leg while I felt my underwear getting soaked. Finnick slowly took off my black heels from my leg, placing it next to himself while he placed down my leg on the mattress, moving towards the other — making sure he gave the same attention to it as he did to the right one.

When he placed down my heels, he bent my legs again, getting a clear view of my lace underwear, barely covering anything. He kissed up on my thighs again, getting down to my abdomen, his hand going up to my breasts while he kissed down from my stomach to my middle, his other hand touring my underwear apart, tossing the ruined fabric somewhere in his room.

He parted away from my skin, facing my cunt that was probably leaking. He took his hand that wasn't massaging my breasts — running his fingers through my folds, making me let out a quiet moan as he kept playing with the wetness on my lips, spreading it all the way on my clit and even on my pelvis. He took two fingers and in the position of a scissor he parted my folds. Looking up, he smirked at me — getting my attention so I wasn't focusing on what was happening next.

He slowly inserted his ring finger into me, the cold of the silver rings that he had on made me shiver and my walls immediately clamped around his digit. I parted my mouth as he kept fucking me with his finger, my toes curling as I kept looking at his face. smirking at me innocently, making me feel like I was in heaven. Finnick slowly moved down his head, his lips quickly finding the fellow on my clit, wrapping them around it as he pushed his tongue out, flicking it between my folds.

Now that was when I let out a moan so loud, that probably even the neighbors heard it. My legs were now resting on his shoulders as he kept making me feel like I was the only woman on the Earth for him with the mix of his talented tongue and fingers. My hands were long lost in his curly hair while his right hand massaged my breasts. I let out short breaths, moans that if we wouldn't live in a house it would disturb the neighbors.

My elbows gave up on me, making me fall back onto my back while trying to squeeze my thighs together — but Finnick's head stopped me. He made my toes curl more as I felt the coil get formed in my lower abdomen. I let out a gasp when he pushed his tongue in, making me arch my back and get off the mattress, my hands leaving his hair.

- F..Finnick, I..I'm going to c..cum! - I mumbled while I felt him smirk on my flesh, diving his head more into me — his hand pinching at my nipples and kneading my breasts in his large hand. I tossed my head back once I felt my high approach me, making me squeeze my thighs around his head more harder than last time.

I came with a loud pornographic moan feeling him still wrapping his lips around my folds while I grabbed at his hair more harshly, curling my toes and tossing my head back to the mattress, legs shaking and my breathing heavier than it ever was. Calming down slowly, I found him smiling into my flesh — his palms rubbing shapes into my thighs as they shook with a medium intensity.

Finnick looked up at me with a smile tugging on his lips, getting up from his knees and reaching for his belt while he stared down at my aching middle. My eyes were focused on his face, his mouth and chin covered with my juices. I heard the belt make a sound as he dropped it onto the floor, tugging at his zipper while he slowly pulled off his jeans making him stay in his briefs.

Somehow I managed to get my breath under control even when I saw that his briefs were painfully pushing his erection that was ready to burst out from the fabric every moment now, his precum leaving a wet spot on it. I got my lower lip between my teeth watching him as he leant over me, his hand going up my arm, resting on my collarbone as he traced patterns on the skin close to my neck.

Not wasting a second I quickly reached the hem of his shirt, rolling it over his back and making him lean his head more forward so I could take off the material from his torso. After getting it I tossed it somewhere onto the floor — making Finnick chuckle onto my face. His hand reached my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat and the cold of his rings making me shiver.

His eyes were shining with the feeling of need and pleasure the audacity that I had in me making me rise up my hips so he would finally take the call and would finally fuck me into the bed. I felt him slowly trace his hand down on my thigh and onto his body, grabbing onto his waistband and pulling his briefs down with one hand. I got my lower lip between my teeth, one of my hands hovering over his while it was resting on one of my breasts.

His left hand that was now finished pulling down his underwear found my swollen clit again, his thumb swiping against the bundle of nerves that were still burning with desire within me. I let out a short gasp, his right hand going down from my breasts to my stomach — from there all the way to my inner thighs separating them so he could easily slide between them, his torso on top of mine. My breasts were pressing up against his chest, my legs intertwining with his as his thumb kept flicking my clit. The tension between my legs was too much again to handle, making me throw my head back onto the mattress my back was pressed onto.

I kept wiggling in my place as Finnick pressed down his palm on my pubic bone, making me stop wincing and be in a calm position. I gritted my teeth together, my toes curling as I saw him smirk down at me, which I didn't understand why at first — but then I felt it. As soon as I felt the delicious stretch of his cock opening my walls — my hands started to grab at the flesh of his strong back. My breath hitched, his size filling me up to the brim. I could feel his tip pressing into my g-spot.

He was already inside of me for a long minute, still not moving. I got tired of his tries on me of how long I could last and snapped my hips up so they met his. Finnick slid his hands down to my waist, pressing his fingertips into my flesh so I stopped wiggling. I let out a mewl which he chuckled to, speaking up with his voice that could be only heard between our sheets.

- Easy Darling. You don't want me to leave you hanging like this do you? - His voice made a shiver run down on my spine, making me clench my jaw at how good he could make me do something on his command.

- Finnick. Please. -

- Well, since you are asking politely. - He smirked down at me again, sending a thrust into me, making my hips snap up. My mouth hung open, my arms currently gripping at his back as he did not set up the pace quite like he used to do. Instead, he started railing me with all of his might.

I felt him hit that spot inside of me over and over and over, my hands trembling as my nails dug into his back — the sounds he let out just stroking my ego. That voice that I would pray for hours to hear anywhere and anytime. I felt my stomach clench, my walls almost tearing up at how good he stretched me out. My right hand slid back up, gripping at his bicep that was so strong that even gripping at the muscle was hard enough to accomplish.

His jaw flexed, making me lean my head back onto the mattress under us, his right hand slid down from my waist just to lay on top of my clit. I looked up into his eyes, the color of them now shining into mine — catching a glimpse of his pupils dilating. My other hand that was still on his back went to cup one of his cheeks, feeling up his skin.I liked him like this, natural. Even Though I passed out from his scented aura. So magical, yet so far away from reality.

One of his hands lifted up my leg under my knee, his cock getting a deeper access inside of my cunt. I thought that I was going to finish just by that moment, but he didn't let me. Suddenly his lips pressed against mine, his tongue licking it's way past my lips after it went across my lower lip. His tongue searched for mine as I slid my hand down onto his chest. Grunting, he slowly started to flick my clit between his fingers, making the moan that crawled out of my throat end up in his mouth.

I felt my second heartbeat speed up, like I was on a roller coaster waiting for the ride to finally end. Though I didn't want him to stop, we just kept chasing our high together. I felt up his lips with mine, my hands trembling as I grabbed onto the skin of his butt — pulling him closer to me if that was possible. He was so deep, it made me see stars like I was literally high right now. My head fell back to the mattress again, breathing rapidly as his mouth left mine after a dominant fight between our tongues that obviously he won.

I closed my eyes at the feeling, my hands sliding up on his shoulders and cling into them. The burning sensation in my lower abdomen finally taking it's way on me and letting the fire pool into my middle. My grip on his shoulders only became stronger when he didn't stop thrusting inside of me — even though I already came. I lay there, completely fucked out while staring up at him, smiling down at me once he saw how tired I was. He slowed down, making me breathe out at the change of the peace he set up. His mouth began to twitch, like he wanted to say something. Yet, he did.

- If you want I can stop and finish myself up... - He started while I immediately sat up and grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down with myself until he was completely on top of me. He stopped talking, looking at my face while a slight smirk took it's place on my lips.

- No. I want you to come inside of me. - I muttered while he only leant his head down and kissed me softly, slowly starting to thrust up into my womb, making me bite his lower lip. I smiled into the kiss feeling that he didn't intend to go any faster.

He then buried his face into my neck and started to get more vocal, sending vibrations down on my spine. I sneaked up my hand to his neck, holding onto it while closing my eyes with my back arched. Pure ecstasy. I felt him loosen up inside of me with strings of white liquid ending up on my walls. I let out a breath, my back hitting the mattress while Finnick turned us over making me get on top of him.

For minutes we stared at the other, not even knowing how to speak with words. Not like we needed them anyway.

[allisluv]

finnick odair and you having a little fun (wink wink) on mother’s day after the kids are tucked in?

mothers day.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: nsfw. set post rebellion but its not specified. finnick and reader have a daughter. reader is a bit bratty ngl. pet names (angel and baby). references to reader as "mine" and a "good girl". oral sex (f!recieving). unprotected p in iv -- please wrap it before you tap it. begging. finnick is a menace but we love him. he is also big on consent. flirting and teasing. not proofread we die like heroes or whatever. if theres anything else pls lmk!

word count: 2.6k

a/n: okay so i never intended this to be this long but i got really carried away with it lmao! happy new year everyone! here's to lots more fics this coming year! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

When your husband told you he would be going all out on Mothers Day, you hadn’t believed him. Then again, more fool you, because if there was one thing you should have known about Finnick O’Dair in all the years you had known him, it was that he always followed through on his promises.

You’re woken up to your toddler, Cordelia, jumping on the bed. You can faintly make out Finnick’s half- assed attempt at scolding her— hes not doing a very good job at being stern. Despite the fact that you are in sleep’s greedy clutches, you still know that he has a soft spot for his daughter, and he rarely ever gives out to her. 

Youre treated to breakfast in bed that morning, with all your favourite foods piled high on a plate, and a selection of drinks on the bedside table. You almost laugh at how sweet the gesture is. 

Then comes the onslaught of presents. Finnick waits (impatiently) as Cordelia runs to her room to get the gift bag. He takes advantage of that time, though, by setting the tray on the floor and peppering your face with kisses. “I love you.” 

You chuckle, squirming under his touch as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Well, I love you more.”

Finnick arches an amused brow and pulls away just enough so he can look at you. “Is that so?” He grins and two dimples carve their way into the skin above his mouth.

You wind your arms around his neck, which doesn’t take much effort on your side, considering you have easy access to him with the way he’s hovering over you on the bed. “Mhm. It’s a scientific fact.”

“A fact, you say.” 

“A scientific one,” You correct him. 

Finnick hums non-committedly. “Ah. Silly me.” He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. “And where exactly, pray tell, would one find evidence of this scientific fact?”

You mull his words over in your mind for a minute before shrugging. “Hm. Good question.”

“One that you can’t answer.” He points out. 

“Hey, you can’t correct me on Mother’s Day!” You argue, but there’s no real bite behind your tone. 

Finnick rolls his eyes fondly and is about to open his mouth and spew out a smart remark when the sound of tiny feet slapping against the hard-wood floors echoes through the hallway. He chuckles to himself and presses one more kiss to the skin that your night-dress leaves exposed before rolling off of you and settling beside you on the bed. 

Cordelia comes bouncing into the bedroom, two gift bags clutched in hand. She settles inbetween both of you and starts rifling through the first bag. 

Cordelia gives you a home-made card and a picture frame with a photo of the three of you in it. Finnick gifts you a bunch of your favourite flowers, a dainty silver locket and a couple of shells that he collected from the beach. 

As your daughter tries to find an appropriate place to display her photo frame, Finnick leans in close to you. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “You’ll get your other present when the little one’s in bed.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You quirk a brow in amusement. “Ah. I like the sound of that.”

Finnick chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, I knew you would.” His lips skim your jawline as he places a feather-light kiss to the skin there. “Come on. I’ve got a dinner to prepare and I can’t do it without my favourite girl with me.”

“And mommy!” Cordelia pipes up. 

Finnick snickers. “I was talking about mommy, you silly goose.” Cordelia scoffs— for a three-year-old, she has a hell of a lot of sass. (Finnick says she gets it from you but you’ll agree to disagree on that one). “Come on then. You can help with dinner while we let mommy put her feet up.”

Cordelia perks up at the prospect of helping. “We’re making lasagna!” She announces. 

Finnick groans good-naturedly. “And there goes the surprise.”

       ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of pampering and fussing. Cordelia has decided to take a leaf out of her fathers book for the day and is giving you the princess treatment. 

As it grows dark outside and the movie on the tv in your bedroom starts to roll to an end, Cordelia starts to drift off in between you and Finnick. He decides that it’s time for bed. “Stay there,” he murmurs as he lifts her into his arms. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” You tease. 

Finnick gives you a smile as he cradles Cordelia’s body in his calloused palms and disappears into her bedroom. 

In a matter of minutes, he’s back in the privacy of your own bedroom and as soon as the door is closed behind him, he makes a beeline for you. He crawls up the length of the bed and hovers over you, doing nothing but staring. “Well?” You roll your eyes impatiently. 

“Well what, angel?”

“Well, are you gonna put your mouth to good use or you gonna keep staring all night long?”

Finnick chuckles under his breath and fondly shakes his head. “So bossy.” He teases, but presses a kiss to the skin of your jaw. “So impatient, hm?” He catches your ear lobe between his teeth. “So needy.” He moves to suck a hickey into your neck. “So mine.” He slots his lips over your own.

You groan into his mouth and he eagerly swallows it back. Already, you can feel the slick in between your legs, and its honestly pathetic how wet you are from the simplest of touches. But Finnick hums into your mouth and all of a sudden, you can’t find it in yourself to focus on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. 

His touch is tentative, almost feather-light. His deft fingers ghost down the skin of your waist, tracing a pattern into the places that he knows will make you squirm, before finally settling on your hips. 

He nibbles on your bottom lip softly. You whine and he smiles into the kiss— he’s always had a thing for hearing you and it shows. His fingers trail lower and lower, but it’s far too slow for your liking. You huff out a sigh but wait it out; you know Finnick and you know that if you start demanding him to go quicker, he will only be more inclined to tease you. 

Finnick can sense your patience and he rewards you by kissing you softly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and slips his tongue into your mouth. 

After what feels like a lifetime, but can realistically only be a few seconds at the most, he bunches the fabric of your nightdress up around your hips and moves down your body, pressing kisses as he goes. 

His eyes are blown wide with lust when he inches lower down the bed, and finally gets to be eye-level with your panties. “So pretty,” he praises, nipping at the soft flesh of your thigh. You moan and you feel him smile against your skin. “Can I take these off? I want to see all of you, angel.” 

You nod but Finnick only clicks his tongue and tries to pull away from you. Before he can get far, you’re guiding him back towards your core by his hair. “I– yeah. Take them off.” 

Your voice is desperate and wrecked, even to your own ears, but you’re too on edge to care. 

Finnick grins and nips his way up your thigh again. He grabs the soft fabric between his teeth and hooks his fingers through the waistband, tantalizingly and slowly yanking your underwear down your legs. He waits until theyre at your ankles before pulling them all the way off and discarding them somewhere else in the room. He hums. “That’s better.” 

He kisses his way back up your leg, stops at your core, and drinks you in. You whine and he raises a brow. “Got something to say, angel?”

“Finnick,” You growl. 

“Yes?” He smiles smugly. 

“Stop staring already.”

“What do you want me to do instead?” “Touch me.”

“Touch me…” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Please. Touch me please.” 

Finnick smiles. “Good girl.” Without warning, he licks a stripe up your core. You gasp, hips bucking forward, and his hands fly out to keep you in place. He traces tight circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, before suctioning his mouth around it and sucking. 

Wanton moans spill from your lips, and he picks up his pace. Finnick’s done this many a time, and every time feels better than the last. Some would even say he knows your body better than you know yourself, and to that, you couldnt disagree. 

He knows exactly what to do to have you weak in the knees and, in what must be record time, your thighs have clamped around his head and you’re cumming from his mouth alone, his name falling like a prayer from your lips. 

He works you through your orgasm, and when you come down from your high, he presses a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. The whine that slips out of your mouth is high-pitched and he can’t help but smile as he crawls back up your body and kisses you. 

He sits up, straddling your waist as he looks at you. You tug at his shirt, eyes still glazed over from the pleasure of your orgasm. “Off.”

Finnick chuckles. “Giving demands now, are we?”

You huff and tug at the hem of his shirt once more. “Need to feel you. Please.” You give him your best puppy-dog eyes and he laughs, but obliges, pulling his shirt over his head. Your hands find home on the defined, hard ridges of his abs. “And you can lose the pants while you’re at it, too.”

Finnick lets out a huff of amusement but rolls off of you and stands. In one swift motion, he pulls off his sweatpants and discards them with your underwear, before hovering back over you. Your hand palms his hard cock through his boxers and he groans, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. “Careful, angel. Keep going like that and I’ll come in my pants like a teenager before things have even had a chance to get started.” 

You move your hand, but buck your hips into his instead. He groans again and nips your neck in way of warning. You ignore him and roll your hips once more. “Let me take care of you, too,” You whisper.

“Jesus Christ, you’ll be the death of me.” Finnick murmurs into your neck before kissing you again. 

“Can I suck you off?” 

Finnick shakes his head fondly. “Another day, baby. Today is about you, and only you.”

Your heart melts, but you cant resist getting one last jab in there. “Hm. Bold of you to assume there’ll be another opportunity.”

Finnick laughs and nips your neck again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. “Oi. Watch it.” 

“Or what?” You challenge.  

“Sorry, did you want me to fuck you tonight? Cause I can always leave you hanging if you prefer.”

You roll your eyes. He’s got you there and the smug smile on his face tells you that he knows it, too. 

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you, angel.” 

You huff out a sigh. “Fuck me.”

Finnick hums thoughtfully as if he’s debating it, but you can feel the tip of his hard cock poking at your dripping entrance teasingly. It’s just enough to have you on edge again. “I will— but only if you ask me nicely.”

You groan and try to push against him but his hands fly down to your hips, keeping you firmly pinned in place. “Finn, don’t be a tease.”

“I’m not being a tease,” Finnick shrugs, pushing in just enough to have your back arching off of the bed. He laughs. Bastard, you think. “You know I’ll give you what I want, angel. All you have to do is ask me.”

“I’m not begging,” You protest. 

Finnick laughs. “That’s a bold-faced lie and we both know it, baby.” He pushes in another inch before he pulls out completely, leaving you whining. “Come on. You can do it. Ask me.” 

“Finnick,” You groan, but he doesn’t move. Finally, you sigh and resign to your fate. “Please. ‘M asking nicely. Just fuck me already.” 

The words have no sooner left your lips before he’s pushing back into you. The breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs and Finnick slows down, soothing you with gentle words of reassurance and careful, soft caresses. “I know, baby. I know. You’re doing so well. Taking me like a good girl. My good girl. So good, angel.”

Slowly but surely, he pushes into you, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. You wriggle your hips at him and he takes the hint, pulling out of you before pushing back in again. 

The thing about Finnick is, even when he is fucking you hard and fast, there is still always an element of love-making to it. No matter how rough he is, there will always be something he does that reminds you of how much he loves you. 

“God, you feel so good,” He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck. You grab him by the hair and pull him impossibly closer, winding your arms around his neck when he’s near enough. 

“I’m close,” You whine, sucking a hickey onto his chest. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum.”

Finnick’s thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to the edge himself, and you can feel that too familiar coil tightening in the depths of your stomach. He moves in and bites at the spot right behind your ear that he knows drives you wild. “You gonna cum? Come on, angel, I know you’re close. Can feel you clenching around me like a god-damn vice. Christ, I love you so much. Want you to cum. You think you’ll be able to do that for me? Can my pretty baby cum for me? Come on, I know you can—” 

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and Finnick isnt far behind you. You can feel him spilling inside of you, and your cunt flutters as his cock pulses and his thrusts get sloppier yet again. “Finnick!”

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to help you ride out your orgasm. He whispers words of praise as you both come down from your highs.

You pull him in for a kiss and pant into his mouth. Finnick’s tongue dances with yours and his breath is heavy and strained as he tries to catch his breath. He pulls out of you and swallows your whine of protest with yet another kiss. “I know, angel, I know,” He mumbles, caressing your hair as he rolls off of you and pulls you down to lie flush against his chest. 

You nuzzle into his chest, craving the warmth of his body and he wraps his arms around you tightly. You press a lazy kiss to his chest and he laughs into your hair. “Feeling better?”

“Best Mother’s Day present ever.” 

He chuckles. “Well, there’s more to that present.” 

You quirk a brow. “Do tell.”

Finnick kisses your temple. “Well, you should know by now that I’m not a one round man.” He teases. 

You whack his chest playfully. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Is that a no?” 

“Of course it’s not.” Finnick chuckles. “Now, who’s the insatiable one, huh?”

[reasonsmandy]

Rare Things

Sam Claflin x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Maybe something where reader and Sam knew each other for years (like right person wrong time) and then they finally start dating

✧.* summary — The paths of destiny are traced in different and curious ways, pieces that couldn't connect at certain times in the future would fall into place. Sam and you were pieces of fate about to meet again.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* ☁️ — Sam Claflin's Masterlist

There were several things about your work that amazed you, the way you were able to architect the writers' ideas, harmonize the actors' chemistry, bring the writing to life in front of the studio camera lens and provide a magnificent work of entertainment for the audience. You've always loved directing works since you entered the theater universe, there was a connection backstage where magic was created that you always felt like you belonged and that's when you decided to architect your career.

It didn't take you long to grow in the middle, of course things weren't handed to you on a platter, but with the sweat and talent you've been developing since you were very young, the steps were taken to where you are now. On your way here, you had already worked on some big projects, and that's when you met Sam Claflin.

You were relatively young when you first met, and from the very beginning, there was an undeniable connection between you. Your hearts synchronized effortlessly, causing palpable excitement in your chest every time he was near. His smile held a magnetic charm, capable of illuminating even the darkest of moments, and his infectious laughter made you feel an instant sense of belonging by his side. When his gaze met yours, the entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless bubble of affection.

But despite the deep bond you shared, the path of your love was not without obstacles. You both tried to navigate the complexities of a romantic relationship, eagerly embracing the love that blossomed between you. However, as time went on, it became apparent that a formidable challenge loomed over your connection—geographical distance.

Sam, you see, had other recordings in a faraway country, a responsibility that demanded his presence in a distant land. The physical separation took its toll, stretching the limits of your love and testing its resilience. The enchanting power of Sam's smile and the laughter that once echoed through your shared moments now seemed distant, like faint echoes from a place you could no longer reach.

The voice inside Sam, which had once proclaimed that there was no one who could compare to you, now grew quieter, suppressed by the weight of the distance between you. The inexplicable connection you once shared began to fade, like a whisper carried away by the wind, as the physical space between you expanded.

Though your hearts ached for each other, the universe seemed determined to keep you apart. The jolt of electricity that surged through your veins when your hands touched was now overshadowed by the vast expanse of the world that separated you. The warmth of Sam's embrace, once a sanctuary, now felt out of reach, leaving an ache in your heart that couldn't be eased.

You both fought valiantly to keep the flame of your love alive, attempting to bridge the distance with late-night calls, heartfelt messages, and promises of reunion. But the strain grew too heavy, and the burden of distance proved insurmountable. Despite the love that still lingered, the circumstances forced you to make a painful decision.

And so, with heavy hearts, you realized that the physical separation had taken its toll, placing an unrelenting strain on the fragile threads that held your love together. You chose to part ways, knowing that it was the only way to preserve what remained of your hearts.

It hadn't been a breakup due to fights, or very drastic disagreements, but aiming at the good of both of you, a way of understanding that even though you loved each other, it was necessary to let destiny trace its paths. And it took a while, but it happened.

When you received the script for Daisy Jones and the six you were delighted with the project and the idea of the adaptation finally, you had already read Taylor Jenkins Reid's books and were a big fan of her work so you jumped right on the idea. When you guys started working on the casting and testing the connection between the actors it took a long time to find the ideal actor for Billy Dunne, and when you saw that well-known figure walk through the audition door your heart skipped a beat just like the first time.

There he was, his short hair, that characteristic smile that captivated everyone in that room, you try to maintain your serenity but lose all your posture when those eyes link to yours. He looks surprised to see you but tries to contain it, you can tell by the way his eyebrows come together so discreetly that it's a detail that probably only you noticed. It doesn't take long for Riley to join you and spend the monologue with Claflin, watching him perform has always been and always will be a privilege, the way he embodies the character wonderfully makes anyone stop what they're doing just to see him.

By the time he finished you knew you had the perfect Billy Dunne.

…

When you started to live together again on set, you knew that there wouldn't be a rancorous past between you, quite the contrary, it was as if you slowly allowed yourselves to get closer as before. Sam always admired your work a lot, for him it was sensational to work with you and let his character be guided on screen by your instructions and scene reading. You guys were quite a team and that conviviality soon reminded you of why you felt so connected to him.

You feared that it was something in your head for a moment, that you had identified something that was no longer there, that your memories were so vivid when you looked at him that it was difficult to distinguish if it was your delirium. After all, he was always close to everyone at work, wasn't he? It was common for everyone on set to feel that connection... Right?

Deep down you knew it wasn't, that despite not believing in the mysticism that surrounded all the romantic stories out there, he made you think that there was indeed an invisible thread tying your souls. He made you think about the unimaginable just by hovering over any thought where you could be together, and whether or not you fed those possibilities... Yearning to be with him as you already were.

…

During one of the breaks in the recording, you found yourselves alone, away from the bustling set, immersed in a moment of solitude. The air hung with a sense of familiarity, as if time had momentarily transported you back to the days when your connection was at its peak. Sam watched you from time to time while he threw some small pebbles on the ground, and you felt butterflies in your stomach with his gaze on you.

As you and Sam sat together, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia. The memories flooded back, and you began to share stories from the day and eventually you couldn't help but bring up the past, the words flowing freely between you.

"You remember that time when we got stuck in that small town during shooting?" you asked, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

Sam chuckled, his voice tinged with fondness. "Of course I do! We thought it would be a disaster, but it turned out to be one of the most memorable nights. Everything cooperated so that we didn't lose the week of work, but that we had some challenges I won't deny."

The laughter that had once filled the air returned, weaving through your conversation like a symphony of joy. It was as if the barriers that had kept you apart had crumbled, leaving only the raw essence of your bond.

With each shared memory, a cascade of emotions washed over you. The anecdotes flowed effortlessly, punctuated by genuine laughter and shared glances that spoke volumes.

"You always had a way of making even the most mundane moments unforgettable," Sam remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice, his comment made your heart skip a beat. "I cherished every second we spent together."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart swelling with warmth. "You don't stay behind one bit, with your incredible ability to bring out the best in everyone. Your unwavering support and belief in my work meant the world to me."

As you spoke, the walls that had guarded your hearts seemed to dissolve, allowing vulnerability to seep in. There was a comfort in knowing that you could trust each other with the depths of your emotions, that your connection had withstood the test of time.

In that moment of vulnerability, the invisible thread that bound your souls seemed to grow stronger. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together, to give you a chance to relive the moments that had once set your hearts ablaze.

The conversation danced between nostalgia and hope, threading together fragments of the past with the possibility of a future that had yet to be written. The yearning in your voices, the warmth in your gazes, all conveyed an unspoken desire to reclaim what had been lost, to rewrite the story of your love.

"I've missed this, you know," Sam confessed, his voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. "The ease I have with you, where I know I can share all my thoughts, the way we understand each other without saying a word. It's a connection unlike any other."

Your eyes met, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The depth of your bond was palpable, and in that stolen moment, surrounded by the echoes of memories, you found solace in each other's presence.

You take a deep breath, looking deep into his eyes that seem to pull you into that paradise. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy for what I'm going to say..." You laugh, looking away to the horizon. “I could search far and wide but no one could ever make me feel the way you do. It’s always you, and I think it will always be you.”

He opens a small smile, his hands go to your cheek and he makes you look at him again you feel that no matter what happens, those eyes that make you lose yourself are your way back. You can't contain the laugh that comes out of your mouth, stroking his hand over your face.

“I think we’re one of those rare things deserving of a second chance.” You whisper with a small smile.

"We are one thing, for sure." He slowly approaches you and you anxiously want him to break that distance soon. “I wanna make us work again, if you’re willing.”

“God, of course I’m willing.” His smile was wide and he shifted his gaze to her lips as a silent question. "Can I?"

"Please" You say, getting closer to him.

As Sam's lips meet yours, a wave of emotions surges through your being. It's a kiss filled with longing, the culmination of years spent apart and the hope for a future together. The world around you fades into insignificance as the intensity of your connection envelops you both.

His touch is tender yet passionate, his hands cradling your face, as if trying to imprint every sensation onto his memory. The taste of his lips is familiar, a bittersweet reminder of what you had once shared and what you now have the chance to reclaim.

In that single moment, time seems to stand still. The gentle breeze carries the soft sighs of two souls finding solace in each other's arms. The warmth of the sun caresses your skin, mirroring the warmth that blossoms within your hearts.

It's a kiss that speaks volumes—a testament to the unbreakable bond between you. With each brush of his lips against yours, the weight of the past lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and possibility. The electricity that courses through your veins is a testament to the undeniable chemistry that exists between you, reignited in this tender embrace.

The world around you blurs, and it's just the two of you, locked in a timeless moment of pure love and longing. The kiss deepens, fueled by the unspoken promise of a second chance, a commitment to make things work this time around.

As you finally break apart, breathless and smiling, your eyes meet, and it's as if a universe of unspoken promises lies within that gaze. You know that this kiss is just the beginning—a rekindling of a love story that never truly ended but was simply waiting for the right moment to be rewritten.

In this stolen moment, the power of your connection is reaffirmed. And as you hold each other, your hearts beating in synchrony, you know that together you can overcome any obstacle that may come your way, for your love is stronger than the distance and stronger than the challenges that once stood between you.

This kiss, filled with hope and the promise of a future, becomes a symbol of your commitment to one another, a beacon guiding you towards a love that is meant to be, a love that will endure.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by. 

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did. 

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief. 

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?" 

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties. 

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal. 

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

[writersblockiskillingme]

The Great War | Finnick Odair

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: After everything that you've been through during the rebellion you finally found the peace with Finnick.

Warning/s: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, war, weapons (reader has a knife), bow and arrows, trident, axe, syringe, violence, fighting, Katniss gets struck by lightning, blood, trust issues, attempted suicide (not graphical, but it's talked about), wounds, pills, trauma, Finnick ALMOST dying, Snow's execution and Coin's death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Once again, a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's song (are we really surprised?)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The heat was getting to your head, it was staring to be too much. It already was.

The holes in your bodysuit that were the consequence of the poisonous fog were everywhere it seemed like. Your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat from the intense heat and exhaustion. You gripped your knife that seemed to fit you a little too perfectly. The golden earing that Haymitch gifted you so that Katniss could recognize you as one of her allies was hitting the side of your face as you ran to the lightning tree.

You were terrified. You were in on the plan to get Katniss out, of course. Everyone except Katniss and Peeta was.

You did your part. You joined Johanna and cut out the tracker inside of Katniss' arm. But that's when things went wrong. One of the carriers attempted to attack you. It was dark, tropical trees were everywhere, you couldn't see anything. You didn't know who attacked you. All you knew was that you pushed Katniss away to keep her hidden and Johanna ordered you to run while she distracted the person who tried to attack. For a moment you stood there frozen, hesitant. Johanna Mason then swinged her axe at you and you had no choice but to bolt away as fast as you could.

Your mind was racing too fast. Finnick. Katniss. You had to get to that tree to make sure that they are there. That they are okay because you were one hundred percent sure that if they weren't you would lose your mind. You would become the madness itself.

You didn't hear anything but two pairs of footsteps running somewhere north from you. You kept running, trying to ignore the intense dehydration, heat and exhaustion. But as you didn't hear nor see Johanna after a while you started to seriously regret your decision.

You pushed your was through to the lightning tree. You didn't have time to catch your breath because it was immediately knocked out of you as you saw Katniss pointing her arrow at Finnick. He was still holding his trident, but you know that he wouldn't use it even if she did shoot him.

"Katniss!" Your raspy voice yelled out, Finnick immediately turned to you. A look of relief washing over him as he saw you.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Finnick reminded the girl on fire and at that moment realization washed over her. You could see it.

She looked at Beetee who was unconscious behind her. The coil was still there. She quickly picked it up, wrapping it around her arrow before pointing it at the sky.

At that moment both fear and adrenaline washed over you. She was going to blow up the arena once the lightning strikes the tree.

"Katniss!" Finnick's voice rang out. "Get away from that tree!"

You started to panic. You were getting out of time. Finnick, Katniss, Beetee and you were the only ones who came. Johanna was nowhere to be found. Peeta didn't return yet. Your ever racing mind pushed you to run towards Finnick as fast as you could.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick's voice rang out once more before you saw it.

Katniss pointed at the sky, the lightning striked the tree and she let the arrow fly.

The last thing that you saw was the bright light from the lightning, a bloody screams that left Katniss' and your mouths and a painful grunt from the love of your life before the mere force of the lightnings hit sent you flying into the trees behind you before the darkness overtook you.

°

Once you woke up everything was hurting you. You felt so numb. You felt so numb yet you somehow felt everything. It was truly horrific.

The oxygen mask was planted onto your face as your eyes scanned the unknown territory. Everything was white and so clean. You turned your head to the side and spotted Katniss Everdeen, still knocked out beside you, and Beetee, not that far away from you. He was still unconscious, too. At that moment, you felt panic arise in your chest, consuming you. Where was Finnick?

You violently ripped the oxygen mask from your face as you stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled across your body. What were you going to do? You patted your thigh, but your knife was gone. You knew that you weren't thinking rationally, but you never did when it came to him.

You spotted a see-through box a few feet away from you. A syringe was in there. It was filled with an unknown liquid, but you guessed that someone knocked you unconscious with this so you took the risk as you placed the syringe in the palm of your hand.

You strolled silently towards the door. You jumped a bit as the door suddenly opened. You raised the syringe in the air, ready to attack anyone who stood behind the door if you needed to.

You felt yourself slowly lowering the syringe in your hand as you saw who stood in front of you. Haymitch and Plutarch Heavensbee. You made it. You were relatively safe. But not seeing Finnick didn't calm your nerves. If anything it just fueled the fire in your veins.

"Where is Finnick?" You hissed out, your voice dangerously lowered that you scared yourself for a brief moment. You knew that you probably looked like a mad woman, but you didn't really find it in yourself to care.

"Y/N." Haymitch slowly approached you, he raised his hands in the air in front of him as an attempt to both calm you down and show you that he won't hurt you. "He's here. On the chair, he's still unconscious."

You turned to look at the side that Haymitch was pointing at and there he was. In a blue shirt that was too big for him. You threw the syringe onto the desk in the middle of the room as you stared at him. Relief washing over you like the waves back at your District.

"What happened while I was out?" You asked Haymitch waiting for an explanation as you didn't take your eyes off of Finnick.

"We couldn't rescue Johanna and Peeta." Haymitch sighed, he was obviously afraid that you would try to attack again and this time succeed after you hear the news that he had for you. "They still have trackers in their arms. We cut Finnick's, Beetee's and yours out after we rescued you."

He stopped here and you waited. You waited for his words to finally hit you.

"The Capitol took Peeta and Johanna."

Out of nowhere, the darkness overtook you once again. The last thing you remember was Haymitch catching you in his arms and Finnick yelling out your name.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

The room of the hospital wing at District 13 was dimly lit. The cold metal walls of one of the hospital rooms felt like they were closing in on you, cutting the space for you to breath. Perhaps that was one of the reasons as to why your breaths came in ragged gasps as you suddenly woke up from your state. You sat up in your bed, sweat-soaked and still trembling. Another nightmare. The same one that haunted your every dream, every night, since the first night that you left the arena from your games. The arena, the blood, the faces of those you had to kill. Everything came back to haunt you once again.

Suddenly the door slid open with a harsh, quick movement.

Finnick slept in the room next door. You knew he was there, even before you heard the footsteps approaching. Pretty soon your suspicions were proven to be correct. There he was, shirtless and disheveled, concern etched on his face.

"Y/N." He whispered, crossing the room in a few strides. His arms enveloped you, pulling your crying, shaking form close to him providing the protection that you needed. "Another nightmare?"

You felt yourself nod, burying your face in his chest as you tried your hardest to just dissappear. His skin was warm against your cold, tear stained cheek, a stark contrast to the icy memories that plagued you.

"I can't escape them, Finnick." Your voice shook, a sob at the tip of your lips. "Their screams, the blood... everything. I relive it each and every night since that year."

He held you tighter, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

"You're safe here now, darling." He murmured. "We're in 13. The Capitol can't touch us here." He talked, as if he tried to remind you where you are right now, trying to pull you away from the horrific nightmare that he was oh so familiar with himself.

"The guilt is eating me alive." Your voice cracked, a silent tear sliding down your cheek. "I killed them. How can I possibly live with that?"

Finnick tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-green eyes bore into yours, fierce and unwavering.

"My love, listen to me." His soft voice spoke to you. "We all did what we had to do. The Games were a nightmare, but we made it out. We're alive."

"But at what cost?" Tears welled up, threatening to spill. "I can't forget their faces. The ones I killed. The ones that I left behind..."

"You promised me something, remember?" He wiped a lost tear away with his thumb. "Back before I was forced to send you into that arena alone. You promised me that you will survive and come back to me. You did."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." His voice was firm, it reminded you of the time that he trained you before you went into the arena for the first time. Back when you two were just a mentor and a tribute, nothing more. "You're so much stronger than you think you are, love. We all carry scars, but they don't define us. I want you to promise me something now."

"And that is?" You asked him as you kept your eyes on him.

"Promise me that you won't cry anymore. Not because of the Capitol or the nightmares. We survived, Y/N. And we'll keep surviving."

You hesitated, but then you nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead, a gentle kiss that sent warmth through your veins.

As you settled back against the pillows, his arms were still wrapped around you, giving you sense of protection you came to a realization that maybe you could find comfort in the darkness that seemed to constantly try to consume you. With Finnick by your side, the nightmares seemed less terrifying, and the promise that you made him that night felt like it will last a lifetime.

And so, in the quiet of that hospital room in District 13, underground, you closed your eyes, vowing to keep your promise. No more fear, you knew that you would be all right as long as your love was next to you.

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

The sterile white walls of District 13's hospital pressed in on you, suffocating you, stripping you of fresh air that your lungs needed right now. You sat at the edge of your hospital bed, your fingers tracing the material of the purple medical bracelet around your waist that said that you were "Mentally disoriented". The label of the chaos that boiled within you.

The doctors came and went, you heard their voices, but they didn't reach your brain, your messed up mind. They offered so many pills, you didn't even know what pill was for what anymore. They offered therapy sessions and worst of all, sympathetic glances. They looked at you like you were broken and you were, but you hated it with burning passion. Yet after all of that, you couldn't trust them. Not after everything that you went through. The arena, the cruelty of the Capitol, the loss of your friends. The nightmares that still clung to you like shadows, following your every step, and the darkness that constantly threatened to swallow you whole.

Finnick sat beside you. His hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. His eyes held a depth of understanding. The kind of understanding that came only from someone who survived the horrors too immense to name.

"You don't have to face this alone." He said softly. His voice was your lifeline, pulling you back from the endless abyss. "Y/N, let them help you."

"They don't understand, Finnick." You whispered in the quietness of the room. "They can't understand."

"Maybe not, but I do." His thumb traced circles on your palm.

"Finnick, I-" You met his gaze, the weight of your pain reflected in his sea-green eyes.

Before you could finish, though, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by fear and longing. His mouth tasted of salt and the sea.

"Don't shut me out." He murmured against your lips, his voice sweater then honey. "I can't lose you, too."

"I'm broken, Finnick." Tears welled up blurring your vision.

"No." He said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're a survivor. And you're mine."

Finnick pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were fragile glass. His heartbeat echoed against your chest, a rhythm of hope.

"Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you won't try to leave me behind again."

The memory of the razor blade, the cold metal against your skin, haunted you. You'd wanted an escape, a way to silence the screams of your fellow tributes that echoed in your mind. But the doctors had intervened, wrestling the blade from your trembling hand.

"I promise." You choked out. "But what if I can't keep it?"

"Then I'll be here." He vowed, his grip on your hands tightened. "Every step of the way. We'll fight this darkness together."

And so, in the sterile hospital room that you were forced to stay in, Finnick and you clung to each other. The fragile threads of two broken souls entwined. Finnick's love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the blink. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that survival was possible. Even when the nightmares threatened to consume you.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

The air was thick with tension, the walls of District 13 trembling as the Capitol’s bombs rained down upon them. Finnick now stood alongside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His sea-green eyes were filled with worry, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest once again.

The lockdown sirens blared, drowning out the screams of panic echoing through the corridors. People rushed past you, seeking shelter, but you and Finnick remained rooted to the spot. The world outside seemed to blur as you clung to each other, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

“Y/N.” Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll get through this. Somehow we always do.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His stubble scratched against your skin, a familiar sensation that grounded you. The Capitol had taken so much from both of you—the Games, the torture, the loss—but here, in this moment, you had each other.

The bombs continued to fall, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You pressed your cheek against Finnick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hand slid down to your lower back, holding you close as if he could shield you from the destruction outside.

“I love you.” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the chaos everywhere around you. “After all this is over, I promise I won’t fight anymore. No more battles, no more bloodshed.”

Finnick’s grip tightened. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“No.” You interrupted. “I mean it. We’ve both seen enough violence, lost enough people. If we survive this war, I want a different life. A peaceful one. With you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“A peaceful life...” he repeated, as if testing the words. “Together.”

“Together.” You nodded, your heart swelling with determination.

And so, as the bombs continued to fall, you made a silent vow. You would survive this war, not for the rebellion or for justice, but for the chance to hold Finnick Odair in your arms without fear. To build a future where love could flourish, where scars could heal, and where promises were kept.

In the chaos of District 13’s lockdown, you clung to each other, two souls battered by the storm. But love was your anchor, and as long as you had that, you knew you could weather anything—even the wrath of the Capitol.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows on the cold metal walls. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for Finnick. The room where the victors were supposed to meet felt like a prison. A place where memories of the Games and the Capitol’s cruelty still lingered.

The rebellion had succeeded. The Capitol was in chaos, its once-mighty regime crumbling. But victory came at a cost. The mutts, the twisted, genetically engineered creatures, had nearly taken Finnick from you. Katniss had told you about it, her voice raw with emotion. How he’d fought tooth and nail, how he’d almost been torn apart.

And now, as you waited, your fingers trembling, you couldn’t shake the image of his bloodied form from your mind. The way he’d looked at you before leaving for that final mission, the promise in his eyes, the unspoken words that he will return to you alive, in one piece. You’d clung to that promise, held it close like a fragile flame in the darkest of nights.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Finnick Odair, the boy with the sea-green eyes and the tragic past. His hair was disheveled, his skin pale, but he was alive. He stepped into the hallway, and you rushed to him, throwing your arms around his neck. His scent, the salt of the sea that carried itself back from your home, the tang of sweat, filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Finnick.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the war, the mutts, the bloodshed. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.

“I promised, didn’t I?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a hint of a smile. “I always keep my promises.”

You pulled away, your hands delicately framing his face. His cheek was bruised, a gash running along his jawline. But his eyes, they held a fierce determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

“You idiot!” you said, your voice trembling. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. Not as long as you’re here.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you kissed him, desperate, hungry, as if you could swallow away the pain, the fear, the memories. His lips were warm, tasting of salt and survival. And in that kiss, you made a silent vow, a promise of your own.

“After this war...” you whispered against his mouth, “we’ll find a place where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere far from the Capitol, far from the Games. We’ll heal, Finnick. Together.”

He kissed you again, and this time, it was slow, tender. “Together.” he murmured. “Always.”

And so, in the hallway of broken dreams, you held each other, two fractured souls seeking solace. The victors’ meeting could wait. For now, all that mattered was this fragile moment, the taste of salt, the warmth of love, and the promise of a future beyond the horrors of Panem.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

The air in District 13 was thick with tension as the rebels gathered to witness the execution of President Snow. The Capitol had fallen, and the weight of years of suffering and loss hung heavily on everyone's shoulders. Finnick, like always, stood beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both faced the president.

The crowd murmured, their collective breaths held. The noose tightened around Snow's neck, and the man who had orchestrated so much pain and death finally met his end. You didn't feel relief; instead, a hollow emptiness settled within you. The cycle of violence had consumed too many lives, and you wondered if it would ever truly end.

After the execution, you and Finnick retreated to your small quarter that was given to you at the presidential palace. You packed the few belongings you had left, folding clothes and tucking away mementos. Finnick watched you, his eyes shadowed by the ghosts of the arena.

"Y/N." he said softly, breaking the silence. "We've survived so much. But now… maybe it's time for something different."

You turned to face him, your heart aching. "Different how?"

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek. "Peace, Y/N. We've fought, bled, and lost. Maybe it's time we find our own peace."

His words resonated within you. You thought of the horrors you'd witnessed—the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the deaths of friends. The scars ran deep, and you wondered if healing was even possible.

As if sensing your turmoil, Finnick pulled you into his arms. His embrace was both tender and desperate.

"We finally get to leave." he murmured against your hair. "Find a quiet place in 4, away from the chaos. Somewhere we can heal."

"But Katniss…" you began, thinking of the broken girl who had become the Mockingjay.

Finnick kissed your forehead. "Katniss will find her way. She's strong. And she has Peeta."

°

The next morning, you stood with Finnick on the platform in front of the train that would take you to District 4. Katniss approached, her eyes red-rimmed from grief and exhaustion. You took her hands, feeling the weight of her pain.

"Katniss, don't do this to yourself anymore, I beg you." Your soft voice reached her ears. "After everything… we'll try to find the peace we all deserve. I hope you find it too."

"Also, there is something that Finnick and I wanted to let you know before we leave the Capitol." you said gently.

She looked at you, her expression wary.

"I'm pregnant." you announced and Finnick's grip on your waist tightened.

Katniss blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Pregnant?"

"Yes." you confirmed. "And Finnick and I… we've had enough bloodshed. It's time for us to find peace. Back at 4. Because we both know that we can't do it here at the Capitol."

Katniss's lips trembled. "Take care of each other." she whispered. "And write to me. Tell me whatever you need."

"We will." Finnick promised, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. "And Katniss, find your own peace too. You deserve it the most."

As the train pulled away, you glanced back at Katniss. She stood there, a lone figure, watching you both leave. The world outside blurred, and you clung to Finnick's hand, knowing that this journey was about more than survival, it was about reclaiming life, love, and hope.

Together, you and Finnick leaned against the window, watching the landscape rush by. The Capitol, the districts, and the scars of war faded into the distance. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

And as the train carried you away, you whispered to the wind.

"Peace, Katniss. May you find it too."

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the coast. You sat on the weathered driftwood, your sundress billowing in the breeze. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that matched the beat of your heart.

Finnick was out there, his laughter carried by the wind. He chased their little daughter, her giggles like music. She had his sea-green eyes and your stubborn spirit. Her tiny feet left imprints in the wet sand, and you watched them both, the man you loved and the child you'd brought into this world.

His white shirt clung to his chest, the fabric darkened by saltwater. His light brown pants were soaked, but he didn't care. Finnick had always been at home in the sea, a merman with secrets hidden beneath his skin.

You traced the delicate band on your finger, the wedding ring. The day you'd vowed to be one with Finnick forever played in your mind. The sun had been just as golden then, and the waves had whispered promises. You'd said "I do" with the ocean as your witness, and it felt like the universe itself had blessed your union.

Beside you layed Katniss' letter. Her words echoed in your head, a mix of sorrow and hope. She'd lost so much, fought so hard. But now, finally, there was peace. Peeta was by her side, both of them were healing together. The Mockingjay had found her song and it was a bittersweet melody.

You closed your eyes, feeling the salt spray on your skin. The sea had witnessed your love, your pain, and your victories. It had taken so much from you, the Games, the rebellion, the scars etched into your soul. But it had also given you Finnick, your anchor in this tumultuous world.

As if sensing your thoughts, Finnick approached. His hair was tousled, his smile soft. He sat beside you, your daughter nestled in his arms. She clutched a seashell, her eyes wide with wonder.

"She's growing up so fast." you murmured, leaning into Finnick's warmth.

"Too fast." He kissed your temple.

You glanced at the horizon. The sun was a fiery ball, sinking into the water. "Katniss wrote that Peeta and her found peace."

"It's about time." Finnick nodded.

"We've all shed enough blood for an eternity, perhaps even more than that." You rested your head on his shoulder.

He intertwined his fingers with yours. "Maybe now we can heal."

The waves whispered their agreement. You looked at your daughter, at the man who'd become your heart.

"We'll find our peace too, won't we?"

Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead. "After everything… we deserve it."

And as the sea sang its ancient song, you knew that love, like the tides, would flow. But here, by the coast, with Finnick and your daughter, you found solace. The wedding ring glinted in the fading light, a promise etched in metal.

Katniss's words echoed once more:

"May you find peace."

And you believed that you finally had.

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@randomgurl2326 @caroline-books @hellonheels-x @livingdead-reilly @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[ficmenrhot]

Speechless

TW: slight choking, hair pulling, dirty talking, p in v, dacryphilia kink, slightly mean!finnick

Finnick Odair is the smuggest, cockiest man ever, and nothing boosts his ego more than when he fucks you speechless.

He’s pounding into you from behind, his strokes deep and rough as his large hand wraps around your throat, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure which has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He’s hitting all the right places effortlessly, his tip continuously grazing that spot which has your legs trembling and pussy clenching around him, feeling every vein and detail of his cock.

“F-fuck…’m making you feel so good, aren’t I, honey? I can feel the way your sweet pussy is clenching around me so tightly”

You can’t see his face but you can sense that smug smirk on his face, and when you don’t answer to his question, he angles his strokes to thrust even deeper, a loud moan falling from your mouth.

“I’m fucking you so good right now you can’t even speak huh, sugar?” Finnick asks with a chuckle to which you reply with an incoherent babble.

Finnick continues to thrust into you in that angle and soon you feel your knees buckle as your climax approaches. Finnick senses that you’re close by the way you clench around him again and he brings a hand down to your heat, drawing circles and figure eights repetitively on your clit with his long fingers.

“Finn- f-fuck..I..I”

You struggle to form a sentence, the immense pleasure fogging your mind as your body melts in Finnick’s touch. You mumble as a tear rolls down your cheeks from the overwhelming sense of pleasure…bliss.

Finnick smirks at your reaction, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging it back, forcing you to look him in the eye. You whimper as he slowly increases the rhythm of his thrusts, attentively studying the way your chest rises and falls and mouth falls open. Your eyes water even more as he speeds the pace and a Finnick wipes away your tears with his thumb, kissing your tear-stained cheek.

“I want to look at you when you come on my cock honey….so keep your pretty little eyes open, hmm?” Finnick hums, and you can only respond with a nod as you babble some random words.

Finnick Odair who chuckles quietly to himself, knowing that only he can make you feel this good…….only he can fuck you so well that you’re unable to speak.