#thg finnick oneshot

[auroralwriting]

just breathe

finnick odair x victor!reader

masterlist

your stylist must hate you, putting you into a corset so tight. thank god finnick odair is there to save you

warnings: female reader, finnick and reader are friends with implied feelings, mentions of capitol people being awful people, finnick being a sweetheart, no use of y/n

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was that you hated Capitol parties. They were always extremely extravagant, filled with the most obnoxiously unaware people you had probably ever met. Being a Victor was nothing less than a major pain in the ass. You lived, but you also lived with the pains of the Capitol and Snow breathing down your neck every five seconds.

It wasn't uncommon for Victors to be invited to parties in the Capitol. It was actually rather unusual for them not to be invited. After all, they were the real Capitol stars. So, here you were, drinking some bubbly liquor that tasted incredibly awful in comparison to any other drink, fake smiling and laughing with some socialites who wouldn't leave you alone for more than two minutes at a time.

Their stories were very unimpressive. Dull and lifeless, like how someone stepped on a bug while shopping, or how another ate so much they had to throw up six times. Stories from the Districts were always better. Folk stories or real, it really didn't matter. At least they were interesting and not about something stupid like fashion or gossip.

The worst part of the whole night was that your stylist must've hated you. You wore some long, pirate-esque, flowy skirt with the most painful heels that had ever been made along with the tightest corset you'd ever worn. It was squeezing all of your insides in all the wrong ways. If you turned the wrong way or breathed too hard, it really hurt. You were sure if you bent over, you'd crack your ribs. It was torturous to be wearing such a thing.

You managed to laugh at all their jokes, share stories back and forth, and pretend to be interested just long enough to tolerate the pain. But now it was becoming a little bit too hard to manage. It felt like you could no longer breathe normally. You were all too aware of your breathing. If you stopped thinking about it, there was a chance you'd stop completely, at least, that's what you convinced yourself. Your fake smile seemed harder to keep up as a socialite finished their story.

"Honestly, isn't that just the most terrible thing you've heard?" You fake laughed, nodding along as best as you could with your circumstances and disinterest. "I mean, I couldn't imagine anything more awful that a broken heel!" How ignorant. Ever heard of The Hunger Games?

"I would have thrown a fit it if were me," another socialite said, seeming very remorseful.

A different one nodded, "Truly the most nightmarish ending to your evening."

As you stood there, you wondered if it could it be possible that the corset was getting tighter. There was no possible way it could have been, but it sure felt like it. The squeezing was becoming incredibly unbearable. Every little breath ached your ribs and sides. You were positive there would be bruises in the corset's place tomorrow. Maybe the injuries you'd sustained during your Games a few years ago weren't so bad seeing as you were sure you were about to suffocate and die right there on Snow's courtyard.

"The only nightmarish ending I can think of is leaving this party without a lovely lady on my arm." It was like the heavens had graced you with Finnick's presence. If you could have released a breath of relief, you probably would have. "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen," Finnick turned to you, giving you a small smile. You returned it, strained, but you returned it.

Oh, sweet Finnick. He was your best friend. His presence was so comforting no matter where you were. It was times like these you wondered how he could just waltz over when you needed him the most. You weren't sure how he did it, but you were damn thankful that he did. You were hoping he would get the hint that something was wrong without needing to raise all hell to make it obvious.

"I can't see you having a hard time leaving without a gorgeous, lucky woman on your arm," the first socialite said to Finnick. She must've hoped it was her. "After all, you are our Golden Boy."

Finnick chuckled, smiling with those gorgeous teeth of his. "Well, someone has to keep the standards high."

"I'm sure you won't have trouble leaving here with a lucky man, either, darling." Your eyes shot over to the third socialite who had addressed you. You could barely breathe, let alone speak anymore.

"I'm sure I won't." Your voice felt strained. Did it sound strained? You hoped it didn't. The last thing you wanted was to look like you were suffering.

Finnick, however, could sense the tone in your voice from a mile away. You were his friend, after all. Probably his best one if he was being honest. The sharp nod you gave, the raised, airy tone to your voice were all very worrisome signs. His eyes searched your face for answers you tried to hide from any prying eyes. However, the way you tugged down at the bottom of your corset was.. something. Were you anxious, uncomfortable, upset? Finnick couldn't place it. There were just too many missing details. He knew something was wrong. It was like putting together a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box.

The conversation continued onwards. Eventually, you found yourself leaning into Finnick's hand that moved to softly rest on your lower back. You couldn't decide if it was for comfort or in case you passed out from lack of oxygen. You assumed it was for comfort. The good news was that if your face turned blue, you'd match the shades of your outfit for the night. If you considered that good news. Maybe it wouldn't look all that displaced after all.

Only one singular minute had passed and you quickly realized that not even Finnick's welcomed gesture would be enough to help you. You felt yourself begin to panic, the worst possible thing you could do in this situation. The more you panicked, the more your breathing would increase. That would only cause yourself more pain and frustration, not to mention it would double your anxiety. What a horrible domino effect that would be.

Keeping your cool was becoming impossible. You tried to hold as still as a statue to keep from moving and upsetting the corset more, but it was proving very difficult. Holding your breath wasn't really an option here, so the only thing to do was try and remain calm.

When the first very sharp pain radiated through your ribs, you knew you were done for. You sucked in a very noticeable breath, thankfully, only Finnick had heard. The conversation had continued, but the words had fallen deaf to your ears. It had been long forgotten amid your growing panic.

"Ah," Finnick said, abruptly pausing the conversation, "we completely forgot, but we're meant to meet with the president. If you'll excuse us." Finnick was pushing on your lower back, now. He guided you through the crowd, up some stairs and into one of the first open rooms he could find. The moment you were inside, you pressed on your stomach, trying to give yourself comfort, but ultimately failing. "What's wrong?" Finnick quickly asked, approaching you with worry in his expression. "Sweetheart, talk to me."

Now you were positive you couldn't talk. Your head felt dizzy and your tongue felt numb. You shook your head, tears brimming your eyes as you scratched at the corset. Finnick's eyes were darting to your hands and back to your face over and over, trying to understand what you were trying to convey to him.

You opened your mouth, trying to find words, but all you could manage was an awful wheeze. Your lungs and throat burned like fire. You were sure your face was turning red. Finnick's eyes widened as he quickly grabbed your shoulders, turning you around so your back was facing him. You felt his hands on your back again, but this time, they had a mission. Finnick grabbed a hold of the ribbon of your corset, not so much as grunting as he tore it apart.

The moment the ribbon tore, you gasped, sucking in as much air as you could as you fell to your knees, holding the front of the corset to your chest as you heaved, the air feeling so incredible that you took note to never take breathing for granted. Finnick was by your side in a heartbeat, hand on your back rubbing soothing circles on your now exposed skin. "It's okay, you're okay. Slow, deep breaths. Don't rush, nice and slow." His voice slowly worked the panic out of your system, your inhales deep, but exhales shaky and unsteady.

"I couldn't breathe," your voice was soft, almost as if talking were still too much to handle, "every breath hurt."

Finnick nodded, "I know, honey. I know, it's alright now. You're okay." You looked up to Finnick, watching his expression. He no longer looked panicked, but he still looked just as worried as before. "Do you need anything? Water?"

You shook your head. "Sit with me? Please?"

The two of you sat against the couch, sitting on the floor looking utterly exhausted. It was obvious the night had worn you both out, from the socialization to your near suffocation. Your head fell over, leaning on Finnick's shoulder as his head rested on top of you own.

"Do you want to go sailing tomorrow?" Finnick quietly asked. "I heard the waves will be perfect. You can bring that book you're reading and we can have lunch."

"That sounds nice," you hummed, "I'd like that a lot."

After a few more quiet minutes, you realized both of your absences would start to look rather suspicious. You both knew that it was long past time to go back to the party, but the silence you shared was too nice to give up just yet.

"Thank you for saving me," you thanked, looking over and up at Finnick.

He shook his head with a soft exhale, "You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad I got you up here in time." Finnick slowly stood up, holding your head as he stood so you wouldn't fall over. He held out a hand to help you stand up.

"Wait, I can't go back out there like this." You could. The Capitol people would love it. Seeing you holding the corset onto your chest to cover yourself. You knew deep down that the position you were in would make the people go wild for you. It was the kind of attention you weren't looking for. The kind of attention you never looked for.

Finnick didn't hesitate to take off his poet shirt, leaving his upper half bare, besides his shark tooth necklace. He didn't even need a second thought. The moment you started to speak, he knew what you were going to say. It was an easy choice for him to make. He would do anything to protect you.

Denying Finnick's kindness wasn't something he'd let you turn down, so you accepted. Finnick turned around while you put it on, only turning back around when he heard you fumbling with the sleeves. He helped roll them up so they weren't as long, while you began to tuck it into your skirt.

"You'll get cold," you commented worriedly, remembering what the chilled breeze had felt like on your own skin not too long ago.

"Then stay with me and keep me warm," Finnick replied, a small smile on his face. You chuckled airly, smiling back at him. "You look beautiful. They'll think we both just did a small wardrobe change. And that's what we'll tell them if they ask. I doubt they will. Capitol isn't all that observational."

You looked at Finnick, biting your bottom lip, "I wish we didn't have to go yet." You wished you could stay in this room with Finnick all night. Unfortunately, that was no option.

He seemed to agree based on the way his smile turned lopsided. "Just think about all the fun we'll have tomorrow. The waves, the wind, us. I'll even bring us some coconuts to crack open."

"And my book," you insisted. "I'll read it to you."

"My favorite activity," Finnick nodded. He held his hand out to you, "C'mon, honey. Let's get this night over with." His offer was easily understood, even if he didn't say it. Let's get this night over with together.

[leviathanspain]

OMG I am living for the Finnick content!!! Could I request something with angst to fluff, with the prompt “look at me, look at me, you’re okay, we’re okay”? Maybe set after catching fire when they both wake up in district 13? Thank you!!

watercolor eyes

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think you would ever see those watercolor eyes again…

a/n: i used hearing loss as reader’s injury, there is no real explanation, so make one up :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it was a stunning color, almost indescribable. he was saying something, his hands moved frantically, you could see them in your peripheral. yet you remained in a trance with his eyes, watching them as they frantically searched yours. then, you realized his lips were moving, and you couldn’t hear him.

“do you think she can hear us?” he blinked, refusing to get emotional at just the thought. from how close you had been, it definitely could’ve resulted in hearing loss. the rescuing of who they could get in the arena didn’t go very well, and he hated to admit that he almost lost you. how he lost peeta and johanna, something that already weighed heavy on him.

suddenly, a scream erupted from you. finnick rose from your side, hands trying to calm you down. you were getting redder as you screamed, exhausting yourself.

“y/n!” he shouted, hoping you’d hear him and stop, but didn’t realize that you were screaming because you couldn’t hear your own voice.

you were panicking. from the looks of finnick, he could hear you, but you couldn’t hear your loud screaming. you felt the vibrations of your own voice, hand at your throat. but nothing was heard. your breath hitched as the stark realization dawned on you. you couldn’t even hear ringing in your ears.

helplessly, you gripped finnick’s arm as he searched your eyes. a doctor practically sprinted towards you. you panicked, gripping onto finnick as you fought off the doctor, a syringe in his hand. you screamed again, now out of reflex. finnick was trying to calm you down but it was hard for someone who had gone temporarily deaf. or at least he hoped it would be temporary. there was no knowing the damage.

“y/n.” he spoke as if you could hear him, shouting wouldn’t change things. you could feel his fingers on your cheek, gently wiping them as tears escaped your eyes.

you wanted to look at him, focus on his eyes, imagine the engulfing waters of the ocean, free to take you and finnick to places you could only dream of.

but the needle stabbing you wouldn’t let you float your mind away.

you wouldn’t be able to hear the ocean, let alone see it.

you grilled finnick’s arm, eyes fighting to stay connected to his, but they fluttered shut, getting one last glimpse of those watercolor eyes.

finnick watched as your eyes fluttered shut. he had been comforting you in a way he knew wasn’t helping. “you’re okay…” he whispered, “you’ll be okay.” he brushed a hair from your voice as your expression calmed. the doctors had decided to sedate you upon your outburst. “i’m sorry.” he whispered more, laying you down back into the bed, words repeating like a broken record.

it had been a week.

your ears were still sensitive, and you had been ordered to stay away from any and all loud noises, which meant you often stayed behind for when president coin called her meetings.

katniss had been making progress, from what you had gathered in whispers from finnick.

“only whispers.” he had whispered the first words you were able to hear. “doctor’s orders.” he smiled brightly. you exhaled, nodding as you matched his whisper. even the sound of your own voice was excruciating in volume. you had tried to force yourself to get used to loud volumes, but it was impossible.

it was more pain than it was worth, that even sometimes the whispers were too sharp.

so you and finnick often settled for a comforting silence. he would hold you in his arms, brushing your hair from your face as you stared deep into his eyes.

he grounded you, from the moment you met him, he had been nothing but kind. he loved you, killed for you, saved you.

“i love you.” you whispered so quietly you wondered if he could even hear you.

he looked down at you, having glanced away for a mere moment. his smile extended up to his eyes, “i love you more.” he whispered, still careful to be quiet.

[amandamariee]

♡ finnick odair (my sweetheart)

you are so lovely by @tulipmusez

so high school by @ssweeterthanfiction

↳ cruel summer by @/ssweeterthanfiction

↳ you are in love by @/ssweeterthanfiction

↳ innocent by @/ssweeterthanfiction

↳ my angel by @/ssweeterthanfiction

slut! by @l5byrinth

one for the road by @libertyybellls

mirrors by @queuestarter

this fic by @bruisedboys

↳ this fic by @/bruisedboys

↳ this fic by @/bruisedboys

↳ jealous finnick by @/bruisedboys

devotion by @leviathanspain

↳ watercolor eyes by @/leviathanspain

echos by @onlybeeewrites

hold me steady by @humaling

↳ stacking seashells, falling hard by @/humaling

↳ between your hands and the world by @/humaling

west coast finnick by @auroralwriting

↳ just breathe by @/auroralwriting

iris by @simpforboys

she sells sea shells by the sea shore by @ellecdc

↳ this fic by @/ellecdc

↳ this fic by @/ellecdc

↳ wharf cats by @/ellecdc

↳ still? always by @/ellecdc

ivy by @daisyjonesgf

peace by @lqveharrington

falling in love all over again by @petriwriting

this fic by @gtgbabie0

a life of our own by @ervotica

↳ this fic by @/ervotica

the lights by @melgolbach

flower therapy by @wife-of-all-dilfs

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Twenty-year-old Y/N returns to the ruins of District 12, seeking something—anything—of the life she lost. Grieving, self-contained, and carrying the weight of a brutal past, she finds herself quietly drawn into the lives of Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. As unexpected friendships form and long-buried parts of herself begin to resurface, Y/N starts to wonder if it’s still possible for something soft to survive the wreckage.

Pairing(s): Haymitch Abernathy x Female!Reader (romantic), Katniss Everdeen x Female!Reader (platonic), Peeta Mellark x Female!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: themes of grief, past emotional and verbal abuse from a parent, past physical abuse from a parent, past self-harm (cutting), past alcoholism (Y/N) / ongoing alcoholism (Haymitch), references to non-consensual sexual experiences (no explicit scenes), PTSD, mental health struggles, age gap romance between adults (20s and 40s), eventual smut, death, descriptions of death/gore, mentions of bombing, descriptions of district 12 after the bombing, might be slightly divergent from canon, peeta was not hijacked

All heavy topics are treated with care, but reader discretion is advised.

this is basically just a suuuuper long slow burn friends to lovers. Y/N’s backstory is very detailed but i have not and will not describe her appearance. the first 5 or 6 chapters are basically just providing Y/N’s background and building a foundation for the rest of the story.

Shadows of the Past - Six months after the Second Rebellion, you return to the ruins of District 12. Haunted by memories and loss, you wander through the wreckage—until a flicker of light draws you toward something, or someone, unexpected.

Fragments of Home - In the unfamiliar stillness of Victor’s Village, you find yourself cared for by an old friend and a stranger. As wounds are tended to, new connections begin to take root—quiet, cautious, and strange in their kindness.

The Space Between - You move through the stillness of what remains, caught between memory and reality. In the space left by loss, something quieter begins to grow—unspoken understanding, and the first fragile steps toward connection.

The Club - A nightmare drives you outside in the dead of night—and you’re not the only one who couldn’t sleep. An unexpected conversation beneath the stars begins to chip away at the walls you’ve built.

The Quiet Shift - You wake to a new day and begin to settle into your new reality. A simple visit turns into something more, as laughter and conversation spark the beginnings of something long forgotten: friendship.

Porchlight - Three months into your return, you’ve slipped into a quiet routine—baking with Peeta, trading late-night banter with Haymitch. But comfort doesn’t come easy, and even the smallest moments of ease shine like a porchlight in the dark.

The Shape of Warmth - You spend the day with Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch—what begins with a truth leads into something softer, steadier. Something that feels almost like belonging.

Shoulder to Shoulder - The weight of your thoughts pulls you under, but an unexpected knock reminds you that not all doors stay closed. Some nights don’t feel as heavy when you’re not alone.

Dust and Danish - The distance between you and the people around you is starting to shrink. Not all at once—but in the soft space of banter, taste testing, and old memories that still ache. You don’t trust it yet. But you’re trying.

Mint and Memory - You spend the morning in the woods learning the quiet language of herbs, your scars aching in more ways than one. In the comfort of kitchen light and soft laughter, something fragile and steady begins to form. But even in the warmth, some voices still echo.

What’s Waiting Inside - You leave with a smile that doesn’t quite reach, and a voice in your head that cuts too deep. But when you ask not to be alone, you’re met with quiet understanding—and something steady enough to lean on.

Something Real - As summer settles in, so do you. What once felt unfamiliar begins to feel like home. You spend a day with Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch—harvesting herbs, sharing dinner, teasing each other in the living room. And somewhere in the middle of the quiet laughter and small comforts, you realize you’re not surviving anymore. You’re living.

Almost Subtle - A quiet afternoon puzzle turns into something softer—shared teasing, easy silences, and the kind of presence that lingers longer than either of you mean it to. When Katniss and Peeta suggest a trip to the lake, you drag Haymitch along, sun and sarcasm pulling something looser from him. You see him—truly see him—and say something you didn’t mean to. Maybe he doesn’t mind. Maybe neither of you do.

She Fell First - You wake up with one goal: figure out what the hell is wrong with you. Why does your heart do gymnastics every time Haymitch talks? Why do you want to be near him 24/7 like some kind of emotionally confused barnacle? Naturally, you barge into Peeta’s house to demand answers and are promptly diagnosed with a crush. Disgusting. Mortifying.

Totally Chill - You’re totally fine. Completely normal. Not at all losing your mind over accidentally massaging mint balm into Haymitch Abernathy’s scarred, shirtless stomach. Nope. Nothing to see here. Except maybe the part where you sprint to Peeta’s house afterward to dramatically declare your emotional demise. Totally. Chill.

Paper Spine - The sharpness guts you like it always has—like it did before anyone ever said your name gently. You fold, crumple, unravel. And when the panic finally breaks you wide open, all you can do is hold your chest and hope it doesn’t stay like this forever.

Back to Steady - A few days after everything cracked open, you find your way back to normal—soft sarcasm, warm tea, and limbs pressed a little too close on an old couch.

Pinecone Problems - You spend the day with Katniss and Peeta, basking in cinnamon bread, emotional whiplash, and whatever flavor of denial you’re currently fermenting. Feelings are talked about. Trauma is unpacked. And Haymitch—unfortunately—still exists, looking unfairly good doing absolutely nothing. You’re not in love. You’re just dramatically inconvenienced.

Pinecone Emergency - You’re pretty sure spraining your ankle after dramatically chasing Haymitch through the woods wasn’t part of your character arc, and yet—here you are, face down in the grass, in pain, in denial, and in love. Probably. Unfortunately.

He Fell Harder - Haymitch starts the night in a classic spiral—staring at a wall, brooding about feelings he definitely didn’t mean to catch. Then Y/N shows up at his door (again), and things only get worse. Or better. It’s hard to tell when she’s stealing his couch, insulting his snacks, and looking entirely too good while doing it. He’s not in love. Definitely not. He just… likes her a little. A lot. Maybe forever. Who knows.

Storm Spirit and Sunshine - You feel the storm coming in your knees and immediately decide it’s your entire personality. Haymitch thinks you’ve lost it—until the sky starts throwing tantrums and the power goes out. Cue unexpected darkness, shared candlelight, emotional trauma bonding, and accidental (but very intentional) hand-holding. Turns out, thunder’s not so scary when you’ve got a grumpy ex-victor and his veiny arms beside you.

Tension? What Tension? - You go to the lake to cool off, not to feel warm all over. But between the splashing, the teasing, and a few glances that linger a little too long, things start to shift. It’s just a normal day with friends. Nothing’s different. Nothing’s changing. Except maybe it is. Not that you’ll admit it.

Don’t Ask Me How I Slept - Something wakes you in the dark. You follow it upstairs and find more than you expected. A name, a moment, a quiet unraveling. You stay. And when morning comes, everything feels a little different—though no one says it out loud.

Just One Good Day - It starts with laughter and leans too close to something real. For a moment, it almost feels safe—almost. But soft things are fragile, and you learn again how quickly warmth can vanish. When the silence finally breaks, it leaves you reaching for someone who’s still here.

One Good Day, Gone - You try to hold onto something soft. He tries to push it all away. But some silences say more than words, and when the quiet settles, it leaves you both with nothing but the truth—and the space where one good day used to be.

As Long As It Takes - You don’t expect to see him. He doesn’t expect you to stay. But when the night unravels and the ghosts are named, you offer him the one thing he’s never been able to ask for—time. You don’t know what this is. You just know you’ll wait. As long as it takes.

Casual, Right? - You and Haymitch are fine. Totally normal. Just two emotionally stable people moving a table and not at all panicking about how close you’re sitting. But when the teasing turns soft and the space between you disappears, you start to wonder if pretending it’s casual is getting harder to believe. Especially when Peeta and Katniss walk in and feel every inch of tension in the room.

This Year is Different - On the day before his birthday—and what would’ve been another reaping—Haymitch starts to unravel. You stay. Through the silence, the memory, the ache. And by the end of the night, with moonlight on the sheets, something shifts. He lets you in. You let yourself stay.

I Hope It Keeps Becoming - On the morning after everything shifts, you wake to the warmth of something you’re scared to name. There’s laughter. There’s teasing. There’s a quiet moment where something almost happens. And later, after the chaos settles and the kitchen quiets, you let yourself hope this softness might stay.

What We’ve Been Becoming - A quiet day drifts into something warmer, softer—something that feels a little too good to question. You spend it in good company, with laughter and teasing and quiet truths. But when the evening settles and it’s just the two of you again, something finally shifts in the stillness you’ve both learned to trust.

Now, Not Then - You wake up from the past like it never left you. But this time, you’re not alone. And even when the words won’t come, he stays—gentle, steady, and real. This is now. Not then.

Without Needing to Say It - You end the night wrapped in warmth, in quiet, in something that feels a lot like love. You both haven’t said the words. But you don’t need to. Not when it’s already there—in the way you touch, the way you stay, the way you keep choosing each other. Again and again.

Clinginess Is a Symptom - He’s got a minor fever and a major case of “don’t leave my side.” You make the tea, the soup, the rules—and he, apparently, makes whiny affection into an art form.

The First Time It’s Safe - In the quiet before sunrise, wrapped in shared breath and steady hands, you and Haymitch finally speak the truth that’s been living between you for months.

Soft Things Stay - You and Haymitch settle into something slow and safe—until Katniss and Peeta burst in, convinced you’re dead. The rest of the day is filled with teasing, toast, and sunlight, the four of you slipping into a rhythm that feels like home.

Soot Sprite - You return to the ruins of District 12 for the first time since coming home, with Peeta beside you. The walk is harder than you expect—but softer, too. Just as the past begins to settle, a reminder of the settling past latches to your leg.

Did You Just Whimper? - With Soot spending the night at Katniss and Peeta’s, you and Haymitch finally get the alone time you’ve been craving.

more to come! :)

[eufezco]

IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE BABY𓂃 𓈒 ❀

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader

synopsis – forced back into the 75th hunger games, finnick decided to play his role for the audience better than ever, staging one last trick to save you. but do you wanna be saved?

caesar flickerman beamed as he welcomed finnick onto the stage. the moment he stepped into the spotlight, the audience exploded—men roared his name, and women called out for his attention, their voices a symphony of the admiration they had for him.

―thank you, thank you so much, ―finnick smiled and waved to the audience who had welcomed him so warmly. the capitol had always adored him, but tonight, their adoration felt almost feverish.

he was especially handsome that night. his stylist had dressed him in a flowing white shirt, its fabric so light it clung to his frame like a second skin. the deep neckline plunged nearly to his navel, just daring enough to tease without crossing into vulgarity. the lower half of his ensemble was a long, fluid skirt that brushed his ankles, swaying effortlessly with each step. around his neck, layers of necklace made from shells, a subtle yet powerful reminder of where he came from.

from your place backstage you could appreciate how finnick's green eyes shone under the spotlights. they also had that lovely glow when he saw you arrive at the back of the stage with your outfit. he wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked but more than that, he wanted to ease the tension he knew was tightening in your chest. he knew better than anyone how uncomfortable these interviews could be, how caesar’s questions often dug too deep, exposing things meant to remain unspoken.

it had been days since you last spoke to finnick—not on camera, not for the capitol, but for yourselves. and now, with the roar of the crowd filling the space between you, it didn’t seem like that silence would break tonight.

you took the moment to let your eyes wander over him when he wasn’t looking. his posture was relaxed, confident, but there was something almost vulnerable in the way he carried himself when he thought no one was watching. but the instant his gaze shifted toward you, you were careful to maintain your composure, keeping your expression unreadable. you didn’t give him even the smallest sign that you had noticed him.

―you look great, ―finnick dared to say, his hands clasped behind his back, the minutes ticking by before he was called onto the stage. he didn't receive an answer from you. you kept your attention fixed on the tributes being interviewed, your face impassive.

now you were backstage, watching him with your arms crossed and with still no expression on your face. the trip had been suffocating, the weight of it all bearing down on you with every passing moment. the capitol had always been a place of cruelty and spectacle, but this time it felt different, more personal.

your attitude hadn't made things easy for fnnick, your mentor mags, not even for yourself. from the instant your names came out through your stay at the tribute's hotel up to that moment, you had been avoiding finnick. mags had tried to bridge the gap, tried to pull you back from the edge, but your anger was like a fire, too fierce to be extinguished. you were pissed off—pissed off at the capitol for forcing you back into the arena with finnick, pissed off at finnick for acting like everything was fine when you both knew it wasn’t, and pissed off at yourself for somehow surviving your first games.

you turned your head when you saw movement, a flash of white fabric. the girl approached you with effie trinket flitted around her, adjusting the layers of the dress with manic precision. you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes.

―a wedding dress. of course, ―you pointed out loud enough for the girl to hear you.

you and that girl liked each other. very similar personalities, highly challenging to the capitol, difficult to contain for president snow. you’d crossed paths a few times during training, exchanging glances that said more than words ever could. you wouldn’t call it a friendship, though. not in the traditional sense but there was a certain understanding between you, a shared rebellion against a system that treated you like pawns. you knew she felt it, too.

―snow made me wear it, ―katniss confessed.

you looked up and down at her and nodded.― make him pay for it.

you turned your attention back to the stage.

―finnick, it is an honor to have you here with us tonight.

they both sat and caesar grabbed both FInnick's hands into his own, shaking them. finnick’s smile remained steady, practiced.

―we thought we would never have you back but we're so glad that we get to see you once again. let's show some love to finnick odair, ladies and gentlemen!

the people in the audience applauded and shouted for him again. you didn’t flinch; you didn’t even blink. your eyes remained fixed on finnick. he looked so... relaxed. you couldn’t deny how well he played the part, the charming victor, the adored tribute who could do no wrong in their eyes. he was so good at pretending.

for a moment, it felt like the air itself was thickening around you. the tightness of the dress, the suffocating fabric pulling uncomfortably at your ribs. was it the capitol’s processed, tasteless food? was it the dress that made it hard to breathe? or was it the deeper disgust at seeing finnick so effortlessly slipping into the role they wanted him to play? even knowing he was faking it, it still made you uneasy.

―the pleasure is always mine, caesar.

―finnick, we saw that dramatic reaping day that took place on district 4 and i think i speak for everyone when i say that we lived it very intensely, ―murmurs of agreement swept through the capitol audience. finnick’s lips pressed together as he nodded. ―first, your name comes out, ten years after your first victory, and then her name comes out and we can see how your expression changes completely. look, look at that. ―the images from that day played on the big screens for the people to watch and you had to look away.

you swallowed and tensed your back, all the memories of that day came to your head unwanted. his name. your heart feeling heavy inside your chest. finnick walking to the center of the stage with a smile on his lips. his eyes on you telling you to not worry. your name. gasps from the people of district 4. finnick's jaw clenching. it became difficult for him to breathe. you walking to the center of the stage next to him with no smile on your lips. you shook hands. people clapped for you two.

―are you okay? ―katniss placed her hand on one of your shoulders and you nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing.

―people in district 4 love drama, ―a familiar voice chimed from behind you, cutting through the moment like a sharp knife. the girl in her tree and wood-inspired outfit approached you and katniss with a devilish smile on her lips. ―it's already done, girl. your name came out already and you are here. get yourself together. snow is watching, don't embarrass yourself like this.

the relationship you had with johanna mason was complicated—one moment you could almost call her a friend, and the next, she was pushing you to the edge. finnick, on the other hand, seemed to have mastered the art of dealing with her.

―we have been informed that she has expressly asked not to be here with you tonight, how does that make you feel?

―well, it makes me feel sad, obviously. as everybody knows, she is a very special person to me and i think we could've handled this situation much better together. things have been difficult but i strongly believe we are the best allies, in and out of the arena. the love i have for her keeps me from having any negative feelings about her not wanting to sit with me here tonight, caesar. i just hope that you all can enjoy her later.

―i'm sure we will have the best time with her. she's lovely, very lovely.

people clapped. they loved Finnick. you could see it on their faces every time the boy opened his mouth, how they nodded their heads to everything he said. in a way you were grateful for it, when the time came you knew they would rather save him.

―as you said, she'll be sitting here later and we know she's back there now, probably watching us and waiting for her moment. finnick, is there anything you'd like to say to her?

finnick nodded and acted for a few seconds as if he was looking for the words. as if he hadn't had this planned. ―my love, you have my heart. all eternity. and if i... if i die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.

―oh, finnick! you're going to make our hearts melt! when did you became such a loverboy?

―i've always been, caesar.

they all laughed.

johanna's laughter echoed in the space, mocking sound that you could never quite ignore. you ran your hand over your face, trying to hide the frustration. maybe johanna was right, maybe the people of district 4 really did thrive on drama. and the capitol? they just couldn’t get enough of it. katniss was left speechless, him and his ability to make those things sound natural surprised her. finnick reminded her of peeta.

―forgive me but i must ask because i know people are dying to know. is everything okay between you two? has the quarter quell been the cause of any couple crises?

people in the audience laughed again and so did finnick. he didn't find it funny but laughed anyway which made you angrier.

―no, that has not happened, no. we have had our ups and downs since that day, as you said, there have been a lot of emotions going on. we had plans for the future but we are trying to get through it.

―i'm sorry, finnick, but you can't leave us like this. plans for the future? tell us more about that.

―we were trying for a baby.

that statement hit you like a big wave and swept you breathlessly to the seashore. you heard johanna chuckling and katniss, on the other hand, was as surprised and as confused as you were. people in the audience got up from their seats, demanding more information, asking if there was a wedding planned, and questioning if you were already pregnant.

the world froze around you, the noise from the audience growing distant, muffled, like the roar of the ocean in a storm.

―no, we weren't, ―the words escaped your lips before you even had time to stop them. the two girls beside you turned to look at you, startled by the intensity in your voice. ―no, we weren't! ―you tried to go on stage, angry like the sea during a storm and about to do something foolish that you would regret later and for which mags would tell you off.

johanna was quick to step in front of you to prevent that from happening. effie let out a little scream, seeing the scandal that was being made. ―whoa, easy there

―johanna, move.

she shook her head at you, smirking. that smirk. she knew all along.

―i'm not asking, johanna. move.

johanna, again, shook her head at you.

behind you, effie let out a nervous little laugh,―ladies! let's mind our manners and a let's calm down. please.

―he knows snow is not canceling the games. he's saving you.

―i do not need him to save me. i do not want him to save me. if i have come all this way, it is to save him.

johanna smiled. ―well, he beat you to it.

―what's going on? ―peeta appeared and effie jumped on his neck to fix the white suit he was wearing.

―she's pregnant, ―johanna answered him.

―i'm not!

―congratulations, ―the boy from district 12 told you.

―i'm not pregnant!

the chaos in the audience refused to die down. the capitol loved a scandal, and finnick had just handed them one wrapped in gold and tied with a ribbon. the murmurs had turned into full-blown shouting. you could see caesar lean in towards finnick, whispering something in his ear. whatever was said, finnick didn’t argue. he simply nodded, his face unreadable, and allowed himself to be led toward the back of the stage.

―girl from 4, you're next, ―one of the capitol staff said. his fingers tightened around your arm, already trying to drag you toward the stage as caesar worked to redirect the audience’s attention.

you yanked your arm free with a sharp twist of your body, stepping back before they could grab you again. ―get off of me. i'm not going anywhere.

finnick said goodbye to the audience, his smile faded the moment he stepped off the stage. he knew what was waiting for him there, an even angrier you who would not understand why he had done that. all this time moving around the capitol and with much of your relationship on display for everyone, and you still hadn't learned how to play the real game.

―i'll go for her. i'm ready, ―peeta offered instead of you. the man seemed satisfied and before walking peeta to the stage, he warned you that you would go after the boy from district 12 whether you liked it or you didn't.

finnick walked with his head down. you were no longer interested in Johanna but you were surprised by the way she and finnick shared a look of complicity when he passed by your side. his eyes never landed on you but they did on his friend. you turned around and walked after him. your fists were close, your jaw was tight.

you pushed him by his shoulders, now it was finnick who seemed unbothered. you shoved him again, harder this time, but he barely reacted. he just kept walking, his face unreadable. he was calmed, he did what he thought it needed to be done.

people in the capitol will have mercy on you, you will have plenty of sponsors and you will make it out alive. but you didn't want that. you wanted him to be the last one standing, you had already discussed that with mags. the woman assured you that she'd do anything in her power to get finnick out alive.

―why did you do that to me?! who gave you the right to do that?! finnick i swear to god if you don't speak to me right now!

―oh, now you want to talk, don't you? what happens if now i don't feel like it? would you like that? would you like me ignoring you like you've been doing with me for the past days?

by the way his eyes looked at you and the way he had said it, practically spitting the words in your face, you knew he had been holding it in for days. you shook your head. ―it's not the same.

―oh but it is. trust me. you just don't want to see it. and for your information, it was mags. she gave me the right, ―he turned around and answered your previous question. ―you didn't expect that? did you think you were the only one she made promises to?

you clenched your jaw. you did think that. whatever she'd promised finnick would contradict the promises she had made to you, so she was clearly fooling one of you two. and you knew it wasn't finnick.

―you made me look weak!

―but you're not so why do you care? right now you have more than half of those people in the palm of your hand. you could need the stupidest thing in the arena and they would send it to you without even thinking about it. they will make you the victor.

―i didn't want that! i didn't want that and you don't even care!

―you're right, i don't.

―you bastard, ―you threw yourself against his chest, hitting him with your small hands compared to his body. he was still standing on the spot while you beat him with tears in your eyes out of anger.

―come on, come on, give him a break, ―haymitch, who went backstage to be with katniss when he saw peeta on stage, tried to separate you from finnick by grabbing you around your waist.

―why don't you save all that anger for when we're in the arena? it'll be better.

―finnick! ―effie said, shocked.

―i fucking hate you, ―you mumbled. while Haymitch managed to get you away from finnick, your hands grabbed his shirt, he wasn't going to get off that easy, not after that comment. your body shook against district 12's mentor.

―i could really use a helping hand right now, you know? ―haymitch struggled to hold you. katniss and Johanna freed finnick from your grip and he left. you tried to go after him but obviously, you couldn't do anything against three people. as you continued to fight to free yourself from his grasp, peeta's voice sounded louder over the loudspeakers, getting your attention.

if it weren't for the baby.

you looked at katniss and she looked at you, still trying to process what had just come out of peeta's mouth and trying to find a way of not going into that stage and choke him to death. now you were going to be the one who was going to hold her down.

―qell, congratulations to you two. you are going to be amazing moms if you make it out of this one alive.

[bruisedboys]

hi!! could you write something about r and finnick in the quarter quell and they are in an established relationship? maybe j how they are with each other in general, and how others perceive them? hope that makes sense xxx

hi lovely, you requested this forever ago but I hope you’re still around to read it!! thank you for your request x

finnick odair x tribute!reader (quarter quell)

“It’s so hot.”

Finnick hums beside you. You’re both stretched out on the damp jungle floor, sweat shining on your foreheads. It’s so sticky in here. Peeta’s alseep a little ways to your left, and you and Finnick are supposed to be asleep too, but it’s much too hot for that. Katniss is perched on a rock keeping watch.

Your boyfriend props himself up on one elbow. Despite the heat, despite the frankly terrible day you’ve had, despite everything, he’s still so pretty. And he’s still yours. For as long as you can both stay alive, at least.

“Do you want me to get you some more water?” He asks. The tips of his curls glow in the soft white moonlight. He brings a hand to your face and brushes some hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear. “Might help.”

You nod, turning your head to the side to kiss his palm. You think it’s sweet that he’s still trying to make this okay for you, even though it’s far from that. “That would be nice.”

“Alright. I’ll be two seconds, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

He squeezes your shoulder before getting up and moving away. You hear him ask Katniss for the spile, hear the thud thud thud as he knocks it into a tree.

A few quiet moments pass, and then there’s a soft rustling to your left. You startle, but it’s just Peeta, rolling onto his back. Apparently the heat’s keeping him up, too.

“He’s different to what I expected,” he says quietly.

You roll onto your side. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I just … didn’t expect him to be so nice. He’s really lovely to you.”

You hum. You get what he means. Finnick might put on a show of arrogance, but it’s nothing but that. Just a show, for the Capitol, for Snow. Alone with you, with the people he cares about, he’s the sun, warm and bright.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “He’s lovely.”

Heavy footsteps crunch towards you and Finnick appears out of the half dark, a leaf cupped in his hand, water sloshing inside of it.

“Hey.” He kneels next to you, grinning, his dimples sinking into his tanned cheeks. “What’re we talking about?”

You lift yourself onto your elbows and smile at him. “Just you.”

“Oh, really?” Finnick raises his eyebrows as he gets one hand behind your back, helping you sit up properly. He brings the leaf to your mouth and helps you drink, his hand steady at the small of your back. “Were you telling Peeta how good of a boyfriend I am?”

Peeta audibly sighs, but you just smile at Finnick, properly lovelorn.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Something like that.”

Finnick grins wolfishly and presses a chaste kiss to your mouth.

[libertyybellls]

RIDE COWGIRL !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; a slow kiss with finnick has a twist of fate.

contains; SMUT!! mdni. riding, small innocence kink, size kink, established relationship, takes place pre- third quarter quell.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it was a cozy night in, finnick had been laying in bed with you on top of him, stroking your hair as he read his book.

he’d been so enamored with his book and you whined, so desperate for his attention.

“my baby is so needy.” he lets out a tsk as he places his book on the side table. placing his palms on both sides of your face in an effort to pull you close to him.

you grin, sitting with your legs on either side of him now as you leaned into the warmth’s his hands offered.

your lips connect with his, his hands left your face to run up and down your back as you let out a sound of satisfaction.

the kiss slowly turns into a his tongue assaulting yours in the sweetest way. you can taste him in your mouth- smiling through the kiss.

your hand reached behind his neck to dance with the hairs at the nape of his neck, still so soft, so pure. he deepens the kiss at this, stopping his hands at your hips and grabbing them firmly.

in reaction to his grip your crotch rubs further into his through your sleepwear. he pulls away from the kiss- letting out a huff of air.

you move your hips to slide off of him- but he buckles you down, forcing you to stay put. “stay on top of me.” he demands lowly.

you know exactly what he means behind those words, feeling an ache in your core.

his shirt had already been disregarded as he’d gone into bed- but now his nimble fingers expertly unhooked you bra and rid you of your shirt within seconds.

you grind down on him once more, his head falling back onto the pillow. his neck looks so inviting, so sapid.

you lean down into him, your mouth carries on attack to his neck as his hands find you chest- kneading into your breasts.

once you retreat from his neck he lifts your waist, neglecting your sleeping shorts and underwear. his follow soon after and you find your way back atop him.

finnicks size is well accounted for, you hesitate above his length. he of course, notices. taking his time to tease you, he’d never been in a rush in times like these. always wanting to take all the time in the world to be inside of you with that pleasure, he blames you for making it hard to last too long.

“don’t think it’ll fit sweetheart?” finnick purrs. his rough, big hands find your waist once again , lining you up and sinking you onto his tip. “don’t worry, i’ve got you doll.”

you all but scream out at the intrusion. “you can take it baby.” you sink into him completely, hiding your face in his neck- engulfed by his scent as you attempt to set a steady pace.

“fuck finnick.” your voice rings through his ears- fucking him dumb as he moves your body for you- he just about rolls his eyes back into his head at the sensation this new position brings.

he thinks he’ll cum now just by the way your tiny body can barely take all of him.

your sit upright, back arched and hands finding stability on his chest- taking back the control of your body as you let your hips subsequently rise and fall whilst rubbing against him.

“atta girl.” he cooes, hands finding your ass.

you feel that all too familiar coil build in your stomach, “i’m close.” you choke out.

“not until i say so.”

the pleasure is too much for you- he knows this- but pushes you further, placing two fingers in between where the both of you connect- rubbing and pressing on your swollen clit.

you whimper obscenities, unnerved at his insistence. i can’t’s and it’s too much.

“so pretty like this, so tight.” finnick chokes out, grabbing your hips and bouncing you against his length. expletives follow as he recognizes he’s nearing his climax.

just when you think you can’t hold it back anymore he lets out a low, “you can let go now sweet girl, cum for me baby.”

at his words, his beck and call, you moan out- the feeling causing your legs to shake. he pants your name like a prayer- like your body is his to worship, cheeks red like a sinner.

he continues to bruise you love handles with his grip- allowing you both to ride out your high. once you’ve come down your body falls slack against him- too dumbfounded to do anything else.

once more he strokes your hair, once more he tells you, “i’ve got you doll, i’ve got you.”

-

[gtgbabie0]

-Finnick Odair x reader

Synopsis: {Finnick says those three special words}

He’s so boyfriend! 💕 enjoy my lovelies

The sun is setting, casting hues of pink and orange that shimmer along the ocean water. It’s a mesmerising sight that you can’t seem to stop looking at, despite the fact that you and Finnick come to this beach almost everyday.

He watches you with a soft smile, his heart hammering inside his chest at the way the afternoon sun kisses your skin making you glow in the most prettiest of ways. His eyes take in the shape of your lips and the curve of your nose. He’d study you for hours upon hours if you’d let him.

“You’re staring” You smile, turning your head to the side to look at him. His face reddens slightly with embarrassment, trying to cover it up with a smirk.

“I’m just enjoying the view” He replies with a playful wink, chuckling at the way you roll your eyes.

The sea ripples at your ankles as you dig your fingers through the sand looking for seashells. You have a small collection consisting of only three shells; one for the time you and Finnick went on your real first date, another for the day he got reaped and one for when he came back from winning his games.

All of them are different shapes, colours and sizes sitting neatly on your bedside table. They were the only things that got you through the days where he was gone, the memories of him live through the groves of the shells and the sound of the sea that’s trapped within them.

“This one… this one is perfect” You tell him holding up the small shell. It’s chipped slightly at the top but besides from that, it’s in great shape. You hold the shell up to his eyes nodding your head softly.

Finnick frowns ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he watches you press the seashell up to the side of his face. “What are you doing?” He chuckles softly looking over at your hand.

“It matches your eye colour” You whisper as you study the different shades of greens and blues, how some are darker and lighter in areas and how they come together to mimic his eyes.

Finnick thinks you might’ve just broken him, the teasing words die on his tongue and suddenly he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“You’re gonna add it to your collection?” He grins softly as you nod, making a comment about how you’re gonna start a shrine dedicated to him and he doesn’t bother hiding the blush that dusts his cheeks.

He does the same thing, his eyes glancing up to yours and then to the sandy floor in search of a seashell. He picks up one, then another and holds them up to your eyes, his warm hand grazing against your cheek as he does so.

“You’re so beautiful” He whispers, taking notice of how the sunlight hits your eyes. You tilt your chin down to your chest as a breathless giggle falls from your lips and Finnick wastes no time in holding your jaw gently, making you look up at him.

“Why’re you shying away from me honey?” He smirks and you curse him silently because he knows damn well what he’s doing to you, especially when his thumb begins to soothe against your cheek and the space just under your eye.

“I’m not shying away” You breathe glancing down at the seashells that lay in his palm. “Have you found a match yet?” You ask before he can continue with his teasing.

Finnick looks down at the shells with a smile. “Hmm?… oh yeah, this one” He says as he hands you the seashell that matches your eye colour, it twists into a cone and the end is chipped off.

They both sit in the palm of your hand, one that resembles his and one that resembles yours, and there’s something about it that melts him, the thought that no matter what happens you’ll always have a reminder of him.

“I’m gonna add them to my collection” You smile as his eyes meet yours, full of love, an overwhelming feeling that bleeds into his chest and he just can’t seem to get enough of.

The words fall so effortlessly from his lips and he doesn’t hide away from them. “I love you” It’s such a simple declaration but the way he says it takes you back. His tone is soft but passionate, dripping with affection. A soft gasp escapes you as the words linger in the air.

Before Finnick can even begin to question himself you’re already wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I love you too Finn” You whisper against his neck, the smell of sea salt lingers in his hair.

It’s all he’s ever wanted and more, stored in those special words and now he’s said it once he’s never going to stop. He rests his forehead against yours, his hand against your cheek as he kisses you softly, noses bumping against each other’s slightly.

“I love you so much” He says once more, against your lips with a smile. You whisper the words back in between sweet kisses that soon taper off, breaking slowly as the pair of you smile uncontrollably. He glances down at the shells in your hand, the same ones that’ll sit on your bedside table for years to come.

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

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

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

wc; 2.5k

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s nothing.

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

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

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

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

What the fuck is that.

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

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

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

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

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

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

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

Until it stops altogether.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it won’t be you.

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

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

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

A cannon fires.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

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

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

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[allisluv]

aaahh yay for a new charger!! Hmmm ok if it tickles your fancy, can I request a Finnick x reader fic post-rebellion where she’s feeling perhaps a touch soft, maybe not even realizing it (like just a heavy/triggering day where she’s feeling anxious) and Finnick knows, doesn’t comment on it, just hovers/takes over stuff for her to lessen her load? (Sorry if it doesn’t make sense - I got excited & wanted to send something in hahaha)

farmers market.

pairing: finnick o'dair x shy!wifey

content warnings: reader is having a rough go of it, use of petnames, pre-established relationship, set post-rebellion, finnick is so soft and sweet it's giving me a tooth ache (/pos), teasing, banter, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, not edited.

word count: 2k

author's note: elle, i hope you don't mind me writing this one for finnick x shy!wifey! i hadn't intended to originally but i started writing and i was like this is so them coded for me not to, you know? so, without further ado... here's my first finnick x shy!wifey oneshot. requests for them are open!! please do note that this can be read as a finn x reader insert too if you prefer that!! also this is my first time writing in a hot minute so please be kind. reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Bad days tend to creep up on you like the calm before the storm, and without really knowing why, you welcome those days back like an old friend.

Its strange, when you think about it; you would think that the promise of a life without a constant war would feel reassuring but in reality, all it does is instil you with greater fear, and that is saying something.

In no way shape or form are you saying that you would have preferred to live under Snow's rule-- even less under Coin. You're simply saying that it feels terrifying to have this glorious taste of freedom, when in the back of your mind, there's a voice that reminds you it could all be taken away from you in a matter of seconds.

Finnick can tell something is weighing heavily on your mind when you toss and turn in bed all night. He combs his fingers through your hair, and presses soft kisses to your forehead, but no amount of comfort is able to soothe those reeling thoughts.

Eventually, you manage to doze off with Finnick's arms wrapped tight around you. Still, your sleep is broken and even then, you cant escape your anxiety.

Finnick watches over you as you rest. When a crease forms between your brows, an indicator that your dreams are not being kind to your weary soul, he uses his thumb to smooth it out. When a pitiful whine slips past your parted lips, he holds you closer and mutters words of reassurance into your hairline.

It's nearing noon when you finally start to stir. Finnick's arm had gone dead long before now, but he figures the pins and needles that shoot through his arm are well worth it if he has you in his arms like this. He watches as your eyes lazily flutter open and you absentmindedly sink deeper into his embrace. "Hi," He whispers into the silence. You wipe your eyes and mumble something incoherent. He smiles. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

You hum sleepily as you nuzzle your cheek against his bare chest. He is warm and soft and he smells like home. You can't help noticing the absent scent of saltwater and a frown tugs at the corner of your lips. "You didn't go swimming?"

Finnick wraps his ankle with yours under the duvet. "Didn't want to."

Your frown deepens and even in your half-asleep state you know he's lying, so naturally, you call him out on it. "I call bullshit." You try to sit up straighter but he eases you back down onto his chest with a quiet hum. "Why didn't you go? You always go swimming in the morning."

He kisses your forehead. "Maybe I just wanted to stay here with you." His fingers trace a path up your back. He normally does go swimming every morning; it's somewhat of a ritual for him. But he doesn't want to leave you when he knows you're having a rough go of it, especially when you're almost as stubborn as him and won't ask for his help. "Is that okay with you?" He teases.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but his hands are gentle and soft on your body, and it eases some of the pent up tension in your frame. "Hmph. I suppose so." It's meant to be a joke, but your voice falls flat.

He doesn't seem to mind. He knows you're bound to be snippy or sad or on edge or all of the above. Hes had his own fair share of triggering days since the war ended and he's been the exact same. He just gives a quiet hum so you know he isn't ignoring you, and then he allows the silence to settle.

There's still a pit of unease in your stomach, but it's lessened slightly by his presence. "What time is it?" You ask after a while.

Finnick cranes his neck to one side to check the alarm clock on the bedside locker. "One."

You swear you give yourself whiplash as you shoot up and he grunts softly at the loss of contact. "In the afternoon?"

"No, in the morning. See the stars outside?" Finnick deadpans, trying to lighten the mood. You shoot him a withering look, and he grins and sits up now, too. "Its alright, angel. We're allowed to have a lie in every now and then." He soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder blade.

"We've got to go grocery shopping today," You argue, but it's a weak protest, even to your own ears.

"And we've got plenty of time," He responds patiently, smoothing his hand up and down your back once more. "It's a Sunday. The market doesn't close until seven. Just relax, my love. It's all okay." He knows you need to keep yourself busy on days like this; it's a way to remind yourself that you're controlling something.

He shifts onto his knees, the bedframe creaking underneath him, and wraps his arms around your midsection. "It's all okay." He promises. A kiss to your shoulder again. "We can get changed and leave right now if you want to, alright?"

You melt into his touch before giving a stiff nod. Maybe if you're out of the house, it'll ease your worries a bit, or at the very least distract you. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss to your neck this time around. "Okay."

"Yeah? That sound like a plan?"

You nod, more relaxed this time. "Yeah."

Finnick gets changed in a matter of minutes, and is ever so patient as he waits for you. He watches you flit between your wardrobe three or four times, choosing an outfit and changing your mind once you go to put it on,

"I'm sorry," You say quietly on your fifth time around. Your deft fingers anxiously toy with the hem of your sleep shirt as you sift through the contents of your wardrobe.

He's perched on the edge of the bed, and he offers you a gentle smile as he sees your fingers move to your mouth. You gnaw on a hangnail, and he pushes down the urge to lovingly scold you. "It's okay. Take all the time you need, angel. I'm in no rush."

Once you're finally dressed and out of the door, Finnick can't help but notice the way your eyes dart around nervously. He knows that you're no doubt feeling more wary, and he wants nothing more than to help soothe your heightened emotions. "So, angel, I was thinking." He slips his hand into yours as you move. He doesn't seem to mind how damp your palm is.

"Hm?" Your head whips around to see him. "Sorry?"

"I was thinking." He repeats patiently, matching your pace. He knows that you need a distraction right now and he Is more than eager to be of assistance. "There's this lovely cove off the coast. Malcom-- you'd know him, he's the coast guard-- was telling me about it. It's about an hour or two from here by boat. It's meant to be gorgeous out there. I was thinking we could go snorkelling there one day, if you'd like."

"I've never been snorkelling," You remind him softly.

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I could teach you." He offers. "We'd be able to make it a day trip. We could bring a picnic for the boat and we could sail for a while before getting to the cove." He presses a kiss to your cheek. "What do you think?"

The weight in your chest is shifting now that you're not tangled up in your thoughts. You can breathe a bit easier. "Yeah." You nod. "It could be fun. When were you thinking?"

Finnick hums in thought. "Maybe the day after tomorrow? If you're up for it. We can always do it later, I'm easy." He shrugs.

You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

The market is practically empty when you two arrive. Finnick insists on carrying the wicker basket you brought with you, and he follows your lead as you drift between stalls.

On your way out of the market, he tugs you toward a jewellery stall. Without even giving you time to ask what he's doing, he holds up a necklace, testing it against your complexion, before turning to the seller. "I'll take this one please."

You arch an eyebrow and give his hand a tug. "What're you doing?"

"Buying you a necklace." He replies simply.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"You don't have to."

"I said I want to, not that I have to." He corrects you, pressing a kiss to your joined hands. He pays the vendor for the necklace and secures it in the basket before letting you lead him out of the gazebo.

It doesn't take long to get back home, even with your goods from the market weighing you down. Finnick flicks on the air-con once you are inside, and once he sees you moving to turn the stove on, he secures his arms around your waist and practically manhandles you all the way back to the sofa. "Nope. Not happening."

"What are you--"

"Youre gonna sit there and watch something or read or... I don't know, do whatever you want while I cook dinner." He grins as he lets go and you flop down on the sofa. You open your mouth to complain, but he simply kisses you quiet before pulling away and pecking your head. "I have it covered. Don't worry about it, okay? Just relax. It's fine. Relax."

You sigh, but admit defeat, anyway. "Alright. Just... don't burn the house down."

Finnick arches a brow. "Are you doubting my cooking abilities?"

"Yes."

"Says the one who nearly did burn the house down making toast on my birthday."

"That was one time! And I was doing something nice!"

Finnick laughs and pecks your forehead again before sauntering into the kitchen. He's glad you seem to be feeling a bit better. "I know. But it still happened." He calls over his shoulder.

It doesn't take long for you to follow him into the kitchen; you're a tad bit clingy when you're feeling anxious like this. He doesn't make any remarks on it; he simply taps the countertop beside him in invitation and goes back to stirring a pot of sauce.

You swing your legs back and forth before finally finding your voice. "Finn."

He glances up from the pot. "Yeah, baby?"

You sigh. You've never been very good at naming your feelings, even when you were a kid. It makes you feel stupid. "I'm anxious today." You finally blurt out.

Finnick turns down the heat on the stove to give you his undivided attention. He nods sympathetically. "I know. Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm just letting you know."

He nods. "That's okay. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You've done more than enough," You rush to say.

"That's not what I asked." He retorts gently. "Is there anything you need?"

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Asking for what you needed or wanted was also another thing you weren't very good at, but Finnick doesn't make you feel silly for it, and it feels easier to tell him. "Can I have a hug?"

Finnick wastes no time in reaching for you. His arms fit around you as snugly as possible but it doesn't feel constricting. It just feels safe. He rests his chin atop your head and nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Love you."

"I love you," You reply, melting into him. You can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips when you see the steam bubbling from the pot over his shoulder. "Hey, Finn?"

"Yeah, angel?" He pulls away just enough to smooth your hair out of your eyes.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's awful at cooking."

He frowns and looks over his shoulder when you laugh. "Shit!"

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Drowning.

finnick odair x apprentice stylist!reader content warnings: angst, descriptions of death summary: finnick feels like he's drowning when he sees you. wc: 639

masterlist. | part two.

Finnick had just gotten out of another meeting.

A meeting discussing if you were “important”enough to be rescued.

He was enraged. How couldn’t anyone see you as a priority? How couldn’t anyone see how much you meant to him?

His hands bunched into fists as Coin’s voice rung through his head.

“She’s Capitol-born. Her rescue would not provide the same symbolic value as the victors.”

“Symbolic value? Is that all you care about? She’s not just some piece on your chessboard! She’s-” he said, his voice cracking. “She’s everything to me.”

He shook his head and kept walking down the hall to the dining hall.

Once he made it to the hall, he noticed how there were tons of people gathered around the tables.

How everyone’s gaze was fixated on the screens above the tables.

How everyone seemed like they were holding their breath.

How everyone seemed like they were seeing something horrible on the screen.

He pushed through some people to get a better view of the screen, and that’s when the feeling hits him.

The burning pain in his heart.

The feeling of water filling his lungs.

The feeling of not being able to breathe.

Because there on screen was you.

He felt as if the world had just stopped.

His entire body tensed.

You were on the screen, on your knees, in the center of a pristine white stage.

Capitol cameras zoomed in on you, capturing every detail. The faint trembling in your hands, the way your eyes darted through the crowd in desperation.

Finnick’s chest tightened, the air leaving his lungs like he’d just been punched.

No, no, no, no.

His fingers twitched at his sides, desperate to reach for you, to do something, anything.

But he couldn’t.

Finnick felt like he was underwater, drowning in slow motion.

That’s when he saw President Snow step out.

“A message must be sent,” Snow said.

Finnick felt as if there were invisible hands shoving him down into water, deeper and deeper.

He could feel the weight of the water pressing against his ribs.

“Let this be a lesson to those who believe they can betray the Capitol.”

Finnick shook violently, his breath uneven and sharp. His hands clawed at the front of his shirt, his heart pounding so hard it physically hurt.

His throat burned, like he’d inhaled saltwater, like the waves had forced their way inside him and weren’t letting go.

His body screamed for oxygen, but the harder he tried to breathe, the worse it got, every inhale only forced the imaginary water deeper.

He watched as a peacekeeper—armed with a gun—stepped forward.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

“No…” he mumbled.

The gun cocks.

“No.” he says little louder, taking a step closer to the screen.

The peacekeeper position the gun behind your head.

Finnick’s vision blurred.

His lungs burned.

His everything was breaking.

He watched as Snow gave a nod to the peacekeeper.

Your shoulders stiffened.Your eyes squeezed shut.

A sharp inhale.

And then—

The sound ripped through his entire world.

You crumpled to the ground, your body hitting the pristine white floor with a hollow, lifeless finality. Blood pooled beneath you, bright red against the white stage. The audience was silent for a moment. Just a moment. Then the applause began. Loud. Unrelenting.

Finnick collapsed.

His knees buckled, his whole body trembling so violently that he could barely stay upright.

He screamed so loudly that his own voice seemed to split apart.

He collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with tremors, his hands clawing at his face, his hair, anything to make this stop.

The screen cut to static. Then darkness.

The silence that followed was deafening.

A sob tore through him, raw and agonized.

Everything inside him was gone.

Ripped away.

Stolen.

You were gone.

[auroralwriting]

watchful eyes

finnick odair x district 12 victor!reader

masterlist

when it feels like the weight of the capitol is drowning you, finnick is there to keep you afloat

warnings: minor sotr spoilers, no use of y/n

Being the only other District 12 victor was tough. It wasn’t just the pressure of the appearance or the pressure you felt from the people in your district, but it was taking care of Haymitch, traveling to and from the Capitol over and over again for appearances on Caesar's show. There was a lot of pressure on your shoulders.

The worst part was the watch parties during the Games. Capitol socialites would invite the highest of high, the top notch elite citizens, Capitol employees, and Victors to their extravagant penthouses to watch the Games. Now those--those sucked. Keeping a stone face when your tribute dies, or any other for that matter. Watching children slaughter, starve, and fight. It was dreadful, even more so when under the watchful gaze of the Capitol citizens. 

Dragging Haymitch to one of these was impossible. He hated being around those people. He refused to be their entertainment, which you understood. If he did come, it was because Effie gave him no other choice in the matter. She was very persistent when she wanted to be. Tonight was one of those times. 

Haymitch was very drunk. Drunk off his ass. To put it simply, he was hammered. It was a coping mechanism, that much you understood, but being this drunk at this type of event was a recipe for disaster. Haymitch slurred his words, swayed like a drunken sailor, yelled at the television whenever a tribute did something that wasn’t to his liking– even if it wasn’t his tribute.

From afar, you could feel the watchful gaze of other mentors. A couple of them had caught your eye, like Beetee and Cecelia, but you ignored their gaze. Your focus needed to be on Haymitch. However, when Finnick Odair started whispering to his mentor, Mags, you couldn’t help but keep your gaze flickering to them.

It was blatantly obvious the two whispered about you and your mentor by the way they kept their eyes on him. You had no clue what they were saying, thinking. Maybe they were disgusted with his behavior or felt bad for you and your babysitting duties. It didn’t take long for Haymitch to follow your gaze. First, he had settled on Mags, but then it fell to Finnick. The party around you was a blur of colors and laughter, but none of it mattered. Not when Haymitch and Finnick were locked in a silent battle of wills, tension crackling between them like a live wire.

Finnick was a friend, as was Mags. It wasn’t like they were judging you, per se. You knew Finnick better than that. You’d known him since your first year mentoring. He loved to ruffle your feathers that year. It was the fun you learned the other Victors liked to have with the new ones. Hazing, in a sort of sense. But even through the teasing, Finnick cared. That much was obvious. It was sweet; he was sweet. You became quick friends. That was something Haymitch didn’t care for. Being friends with the Capitol Peacock will only bring more attention to you, he said. Maybe it didn’t matter because at least you had a friend.

Haymitch swayed on his feet, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the floor. He pointed a lazy but sharp finger at Finnick, eyes bloodshot but far from unfocused. "I know your type, Odair," Haymitch drawled. "All pretty words and empty promises. What, you think you’re any different from the rest of them?"

Finnick’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. It was barely there, but you caught it. The others around were quick to keen on the interaction, not surprising because Haymitch practically yelled his words across the room.

"You drink yourself half to death, Haymitch, and somehow you still think you have the moral high ground?" Finnick shot back, voice quiet but cutting. 

Haymitch barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Moral high ground? Kid, I lost that the day I won my Games." He took another drink, then gestured between you and Finnick. "But at least I don’t pretend this place hasn’t already chewed me up and spit me out."

Finnick quickly walked over, his voice low and accusing. "And you think I do?" Finnick’s voice was sharper now, his grip tightening around his glass. He stepped closer, his usual smooth confidence cracking at the edges. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to be a puppet? To be paraded around for their amusement?"

The way he said it—low, bitter—sent a chill down your spine.

Haymitch scoffed. "Oh, I know you do. But the difference between us, Finnick, is that I don’t pretend any of this is real. I don’t make someone think they can be saved when we’re all too far gone."

Your stomach dropped as both sets of eyes turned to you.

"That’s enough," you snapped, stepping between them. "Both of you, just-just stop."

Finnick’s expression softened the slightest bit when he looked at you, but Haymitch just sighed, downing the rest of his drink like it was the only thing keeping him standing. “And you,” you snatched the glass from Haymitch, “that’s enough for tonight.”

"You wanna play hero, fine," Haymitch muttered, turning away. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you." With that, he staggered off, disappearing into the crowd. You weren’t too worried. If he got into too much trouble, Effie would find him and scold him.

The tension lingered between you and Finnick, the party noise fading into the background. The attention quickly went back to the Games, two groups of tributes had run into each other. Much more interesting than two victors simply arguing. Finnick let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. The air was thick, charged with something raw and unspoken. Haymitch was gone, lost in the crowd, but his words still lingered, hanging over you and Finnick like a storm that hadn’t quite passed.

Finnick exhaled sharply, tilting his head back for a moment before looking at you again. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was something almost… weary in his gaze. "You think he’s right?" His voice was low, careful. "That we’re all too far gone?"

You hesitated. Because honestly? You weren’t sure anymore.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. "I think Haymitch is drunk and angry and tired of fighting a war no one else seems to see."

Finnick scoffed, rolling the glass between his fingers. "Yeah. Well, aren’t we all?"

You frowned, watching him. He was doing that thing—deflecting, hiding behind sarcasm because it was easier than being honest.

"Finnick." You stepped closer, lowering your voice. "Why do you even care what Haymitch thinks?"

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, he exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around his drink. "Because he’s not wrong."

Your stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"

Finnick’s eyes flickered to the crowd, scanning the Capitol elites dressed in their absurd outfits, laughing and drinking as they watched children slaughter each other on massive screens. When he looked back at you, his expression was unreadable. "I know what they see when they look at me," he said softly. "I know what I am to them."

Your throat felt tight. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was more than just a Victor, more than just something for the Capitol to own, but you weren’t sure the words would mean anything. Not when he had spent years being told the opposite.

Finnick must have noticed your hesitation because he let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "See?" He lifted his drink in a mock toast. "Even you can’t say it."

"That’s not—" You stopped yourself, forcing out a breath. "That’s not true, Finnick."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied you, like he was trying to decide if he could believe you. If he wanted to. Then, after a long pause, he took a step closer, so close you could smell the salt of the ocean beneath the expensive Capitol cologne. "You’re different," he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. "I don’t know how, but you are."

Your heart pounded. "Different how?"

Finnick searched your face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he exhaled a quiet laugh and shook his head. "I don’t know yet," he admitted. "But I think I’d like to find out."

The party had finally died down, but the tension in your chest hadn’t. You had spent most of the night cleaning up Haymitch’s mess—pulling him away before he could piss off the wrong person, keeping him from collapsing in the middle of the Capitol socialites. Eventually, Effie had managed to drag him out, throwing you a look that was equal parts exhaustion and exasperation before disappearing with him toward the District 12 penthouse.

You should have stayed with them. But instead, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, gripping the marbled countertop with a glass of water in front of you. The ice had already melted, the condensation on the glass was already making a small pool of water on the countertop. A soft knock on the door made you turn.

When you opened it, Finnick was standing there, Mags at his side. His hair was still perfectly tousled, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder like he had just left another party. But there was something off, a tightness in his jaw, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Mags smiled up at you, tugging on Finnick’s shirt. "She wanted to check on Haymitch," Finnick translated, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "And so did I."

You sighed, shutting the door behind them. "He’s passed out." You gestured toward the couch, where Haymitch was sprawled, one arm hanging over the side, a half-empty bottle on the floor next to him. His chest rose and fell in deep, uneven breaths. Mags walked over and knelt beside him, her weathered hands brushing his hair back gently. Finnick stood beside you, watching the scene with something unreadable in his expression.

"I don’t know why I keep trying," you muttered, rubbing your temples. “He’s a disaster. He’s done it for years before me.”

Finnick tilted his head, glancing at you. "Because you still think you can save him."

You scoffed. "And you don’t?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his arms. "I used to. A long time ago."

Mags looked up then, nodding to Finnick like they already had a preplanned conversation. He nodded. "She says he’s lucky to have you," Finnick said, watching you carefully.

Your throat tightened. "It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like he wished I died in that arena–”

“Don’t you even dare finish that sentence!” Effie said from across the room. You sighed, rolling your eyes. She just didn’t get that maybe it was a better fate to die than to live.

Finnick was silent for a moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, gently taking your wrist and guiding you to sit beside him on the armrest of the couch. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, close enough that the warmth of him was grounding, steady.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he murmured eventually. "You know that, right?" You turned to look at him, and for once, there was no Capitol bravado, no charming mask—just Finnick. Tired. Understanding.

“It’s not like I’ve had the best help adjusting,” you eyed the sleeping, more like passed out, Haymitch beside you. 

Mags gave you a knowing look as she settled into the chair beside Haymitch, gently patting his arm. She signed something quickly to Finnick, who huffed a quiet laugh before turning to you.

"She says you need some fresh air."

You frowned. "I’m fine."

Finnick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, sure. Because standing here looking like you're carrying the weight of all twelve districts is just a fun little hobby, right?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but Mags was already waving you off, her expression firm. She was staying, and Finnick wasn’t going to take no for an answer. With a sigh, you gave in. "Fine. But just for a little while."

Finnick grinned. "That’s the spirit."

The air outside was crisp, a stark contrast to the stuffy, artificial warmth of the penthouse. Finnick led you through the nearly empty corridors of the Tribute Tower, moving like he had done this a hundred times before. Eventually, he pushed open a set of doors, revealing a quiet rooftop garden, one of the few places in the Capitol that didn’t feel suffocating.

You took a slow breath, letting the stillness settle over you. It wasn’t home, not even close, but at least up here, the Capitol felt a little farther away.

"Better?" Finnick asked, watching you.

You nodded. "Yeah. It is."

He smirked, nudging your shoulder. "Mags knows best."

You let out a small laugh. "She always does." For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant hum of the city buzzed below, but up here, it felt like a different world. 

“I can’t imagine what it was like to do all of this on your own. Settling back home, learning the Capitol’s unspoken rules..” Finnick trailed off.

"I didn’t have much of a choice," you murmured.

Finnick was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming absently against the railing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "You shouldn’t have had to do it alone."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the raw sincerity in his expression. "You had Mags," you pointed out.

Finnick nodded. "Yeah. But even with her, it was still hell." He exhaled, shaking his head. "I was fourteen. Barely old enough to understand what had happened to me before they were already parading me around, expecting me to smile and play nice while they pulled the strings."

You swallowed hard. You had never asked about Finnick’s own struggles, had never been sure if he’d even want to talk about them. "I didn’t have anyone," you admitted. "Just Haymitch. And he was..." You glanced away. "He was barely surviving himself."

Finnick studied you for a long moment before he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding. "Well," he said, voice steady, "you have me now." The words were simple, but they settled deep, easing something in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him. "Yeah. I guess I do."

Finnick’s lips curled into the smallest smile. "And I don’t plan on going anywhere."

For the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t standing in this fight alone.

The Capitol had a way of making time feel strange. You weren’t sure if it was the blinding lights, the artificial air, or the way no one ever seemed to sleep. But in this place, the Games stretched endlessly. Every morning, you woke up knowing you’d have to sit through another day of watching kids die, pretending it didn’t break you apart piece by piece.

Tonight was no different.

You had left the latest watch party early, the weight of it all pressing too hard on your chest. The screams from the arena still echoed in your head, the flickering images burned into your mind. You needed to breathe, needed space.

You barely registered where your feet were taking you until you found yourself at Finnick’s door. Before you could second-guess it, you knocked. It only took a moment before he answered, blinking at you with tired, sea-green eyes. He didn’t ask why you were there. He just stepped aside, letting you in.

The room was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the windows. Finnick closed the door behind you and leaned against it, watching you carefully.

"Couldn’t take it anymore?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I just.. needed to get out of there. Caesar and his tech guys were hounding me– I think the only reason I was even invited is because one of my tributes is still alive."

Finnick nodded, pushing off the door and walking over to you. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear. The touch was so gentle, such a stark contrast to the brutality of everything happening around you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay."

That was the thing about Finnick. He never pushed. Never asked for more than you could give. Instead, he simply took your hand and led you toward the bed, sitting down and tugging you with him. You let yourself collapse against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. His arm came around you without hesitation, warm and steady.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t empty—it was safe. After a moment, Finnick shifted, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. "You’re too tense," he murmured.

You exhaled shakily. "Hard not to be."

He hummed, his fingers trailing soothing circles against your back. "You need a distraction."

You lifted your head, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you suggesting?"

Finnick grinned, but there was something softer beneath the usual mischief. His fingers slid down to lace with yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"I was thinking we could talk about something good for once."

You scoffed. "Good? In this hellhole?"

"Mhm." Finnick shifted, leaning in slightly. "Like… the first thing you're gonna do when you finally get out of this place."

You thought for a moment. “I’m gonna go home.. and I’m gonna go to the meadow.. and I’m just gonna sit there. I’m gonna sit there in silence and just listen to the breeze and the birds.”

Finnick tilted his head. "And after that?"

You blinked at him. "Why does it matter?"

He studied you for a long moment before exhaling. "Because I want to know what your life looks like beyond this place. Beyond the Capitol, beyond the Games." His fingers tightened around yours. "I want to know what you look forward to."

You swallowed hard. It had been a long time since you allowed yourself to dream about anything beyond survival.

"I guess… I’d like to fix up my house. Grow something. Maybe actually enjoy living there instead of just… existing in it."

Finnick smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah." You paused, then nudged him lightly. "What about you?"

He hummed, pretending to think. "One day, when our world is better, I’d really like to see District 12. See what all the fuss is about."

You snorted. "There’s no fuss. It’s miserable."

"Oh, I don’t know." Finnick smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer. "You’re there. That’s reason enough to visit."

Your breath caught for half a second, your heart stumbling in your chest.

"Finnick—"

But before you could say another word, he kissed you.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate, wasn’t meant to be an escape. It was soft, a promise, a quiet understanding. A reminder that there was still something left in this world beyond the horror you both had endured.

When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, his forehead resting lightly against yours. "See?" he murmured. "Distractions can be nice."

You let out a soft breath, your fingers still curled around his like you were afraid to let go. "Yeah," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "They can."

Finnick smiled against your skin, his nose brushing lightly against yours. "I think I could get used to this."

You huffed a quiet laugh, feeling the warmth of him seep into you. "What, kissing me?"

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression turning more serious, more real. "Being close to you," he corrected. "Knowing you trust me enough to be here. To let me be here."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the unspoken weight behind them. You hadn’t let many people in, not since winning, not since realizing that survival meant keeping your heart locked away where the Capitol couldn’t reach it. But Finnick… Finnick made it feel safe to open that door. Even just a little.

"I do trust you," you said softly, holding his gaze. "More than I probably should."

His lips quirked into something between a smirk and something much gentler. "I won’t hold it against you." You rolled your eyes but smiled, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel forced. “Go back to your floor, get some rest. Something tells me the Games will be over soon. You’ll need that rest before you go home.” 

“Alright,” you said. “Will I see you? Before we go home?”

Finnick nodded, “Yeah. You will.”

For once, you believed something someone told you in the Capitol. And you didn't regret it.

[leviathanspain]

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

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

suddenly the island began to spin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[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

[sweetheartsofpanem]

The Warmth Between Waves

masterlist

okay wow i made myself cry while writing this, i need someone to take care of me like this on my bad days:( i did some research on fibromyalgia and tried to make it as accurate as i could based off of what i learned, i apologize if it’s not.

pairing(s): Finnick Odair x Chronically ill!Reader - request was from someone with fibromyalgia and i based it off that but i think it can be read by anyone with chronic pain

warnings: Y/N experiencing intense pain, finnick and Y/N take a bath together, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff

word count: 1.37k

When the world narrows to pain, he becomes the place where it softens—where love steadies, and warmth waits between each crashing wave.

The pain doesn’t start sharp. Not at first.

It begins as a dull throb in your knees, the kind you can ignore if you just breathe through it. Then it spreads—slow and insistent like ink in water—seeping into your shoulders, your spine, your hands. The weight of your body becomes too much. Your skin starts to burn where your shirt touches it. Even your eyelashes feel heavy.

You curl onto your side, limbs trembling, every movement sending bolts of fire through muscles that feel like they’ve been crushed under invisible stones. You’ve had flare-ups before. Hundreds. But somehow it still surprises you how completely it can consume you.

How helpless it can make you feel.

You bite your lip hard to keep from crying out. The ceiling above you blurs as your eyes sting, but you don’t make a sound. You’ve learned how to be quiet. How to endure. How to exist inside the pain without letting it spill over.

But it’s not just you anymore.

The door creaks open, and soft footsteps cross the floor. You know the sound of his gait by heart—familiar, confident, always sure in its purpose. You don’t even have to look.

Finnick.

He kneels by the bed without saying anything. You feel the mattress dip slightly as he places one hand on the blanket near your waist—not touching you yet, just a silent offering.

“Talk to me, love,” he says gently. “How bad is it?”

You don’t want to answer. You hate this part. You hate the sound of your own voice when you’re like this—small, hoarse, not yours. But you know you don’t have to be strong with him.

You never do.

“Everything hurts,” you whisper. “It started in my knees this morning… now it’s everywhere.”

Finnick’s face softens, even though you can’t quite meet his eyes. His fingers move slowly, carefully, drawing a slow line along the edge of the blanket. “Bad flare, then.”

You nod, blinking back another wave of tears. You hate crying in front of him, not because you think he minds, but because you don’t want your body’s betrayal to become his weight too.

But he’s already moving.

“I’m gonna help you get in the bath, okay?” he says softly. “I’ve already drawn it. Lavender oil. Just like you like.”

You let out a small, broken sound. “You always know.”

He smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Of course I do. I watch you. I love you.”

He says it so easily, like it’s not something you ever doubted, even when your body makes you feel unworthy of that kind of love. Like your pain doesn’t scare him.

Finnick shifts the blanket back and moves with a slow, practiced grace. He doesn’t rush you. He never does. He just helps—first with sitting up, one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then with the slow walk to the bathroom, his body curved protectively around yours.

You lean heavily on him, each step agonizing, but he steadies you like he’s done it a hundred times. Because he has.

And he’ll do it a hundred more.

The steam from the bath curls into the air like ghostly fingers. The scent of lavender hits you first—soft, soothing, familiar. He’s placed a small candle on the sink, and the flame flickers low, casting golden light across the tiles.

Finnick helps you sit on the edge of the tub and slowly begins to undress you, his fingers careful, never pulling or tugging. He treats your body like something sacred, even when it feels like it’s failing you.

When he slides your shirt off, you gasp—more from the pain than the chill. His eyes flicker to your face immediately.

“Too fast?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Just sore. Like I got dragged through coral.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You scoff lightly, but the warmth in your chest flares stronger than the ache in your back. “You’re biased.”

“Completely,” he grins. “Hop in with me?”

You nod. “Please.”

He helps you into the bath first, lowering you in inch by inch. The warmth of the water soaks through your bones, easing the worst of the stiffness. You exhale shakily, and your head tips back against the edge of the tub.

When he slides in behind you, the bath ripples. His arms wrap around your middle, pulling you gently against his chest. You melt into him—into the warmth, into his steady breath, into the kind of quiet that isn’t lonely.

His chin rests atop your head.

You sit like that for what feels like forever. The water hums around you. His fingers trace slow, absent-minded circles on your stomach, sometimes drawing shapes, sometimes just resting flat against you.

“I hate when it gets this bad,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says.

“I feel like a burden.”

He leans down, kissing the shell of your ear. “You’re not.”

“I know you say that, but—”

“No,” he cuts in softly, not unkind. “You are not a burden. You are the love of my life. You are soft and brave and stronger than anyone I know. Your pain doesn’t make you less lovable. It makes me want to hold you closer.”

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t fill the silence with more words. He lets the truth of what he said settle around you like a second skin.

After the bath, he lifts you from the tub and wraps you in the softest towel he could find—one he bought from a traveling merchant after months of searching for something gentle enough for your flare days. You’d made fun of him at the time, called it ridiculous. But now, with the terry cloth cocooned around you, you feel your throat tighten with quiet gratitude.

He dries you slowly, carefully, then helps you into a loose nightshirt and carries you back to bed. He tucks a warm heat pack beneath your lower back, adjusts the pillows behind you, and presses a glass of water to your lips.

“Drink a little,” he says. “You always forget when it hurts.”

You sip, wincing, then settle back.

Finnick sits beside you on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. “Massage?”

You nod once. “Please.”

He warms oil between his palms before sliding his hands under your shirt, palms gliding gently over your lower back. His thumbs move in slow, rhythmic circles, never applying too much pressure, just enough to coax the tension from your muscles.

You close your eyes and let yourself fall into it—the scent of lavender and the sound of his breath and the feel of his hands grounding you.

“You’re so good to me,” you whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “You deserve good.”

You laugh, a fragile sound. “I don’t always believe that.”

“Then I’ll keep telling you until you do.”

His hands move up your spine, slow and steady. You feel each breath of his against your back, every soft exhale a promise.

Eventually, the worst of the pain recedes into a quiet throb. Still there, still humming beneath your skin, but not screaming anymore. You sink into the mattress, boneless and heavy, the warmth of his body a balm.

He lies down beside you and pulls the blankets over both of you. You curl into him, your face pressed against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

He brushes his fingers through your hair. “Sleep, love.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt worse when I wake up.”

“Then I’ll be here when you do,” he says simply. “And we’ll fight it together.”

You let out a slow breath and nod, your hand finding his beneath the covers. He squeezes gently.

As your eyes drift closed, you think—not for the first time—how lucky you are to have found someone who doesn’t flinch from your pain. Who doesn’t run. Who doesn’t try to fix you, but instead chooses to stay.

Finnick kisses your forehead one last time. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too,” you murmur back, the words curling into the space between you like another blanket.

And when sleep comes, it feels almost kind.

[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 📥