#wanda 💋

[daisyjonesgf]

ivy // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

5.3k words

summary: you've loved finnick as long as you can remember, and he's loved you too, but he doesn't want the capitol to know that.

warnings: angst w/ a happy ending, friends to lovers, a slow burn to get together but not to catch feelings, underage drinking, some emotional cheating not on reader or finnick, teenagers being teenagers, finnick kind of being mean to some people, reader runs out of a wedding (her wedding), allusions to the hunger games and trafficking, no use of y/n, unedited

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The smell of the salty ocean air had always brought you comfort, happiness, anything you could have wished for. It made everything feel so worth it. Long days working, early mornings, a few hours in school, late nights trying to fill in with any freedom you could find, and the few hours of sleep crammed in. All of it was worth it to feel the breeze on your face once again.

“What are you doing out here alone?” A voice interrupted your solace, but it was a voice that you instantly recognized.

“Finnick, you’re back!” You turned to smile at him and his own smile only made you want to smile wider. He’d always had this inherent brightness to him, he was like the sun, always had been. Shining so brightly, providing so much inherent warmth.

“Yeah, you miss me?” Finnick lifted an eyebrow cockily before sitting rather unceremoniously in the sand beside you.

“In your dreams.” You give an all too playful, all too exaggerated eye roll, leaning back on your elbows.

“Oh you know it, honey.” He’s winking and you can’t help but actually roll your eyes this time. It’s been this way between the two of you as long as you can remember, the lighthearted flirting, the playful banter. It just felt so natural whenever you were with him. Finnick kept sitting up and you didn’t prop yourself up until he was putting a bottle in his mouth.

“Oh my god, is that-”

He chuckled, “You know it, snagged some extra bottles off the train when I was getting back a few days ago.” Finnick handed the bottle out and you eagerly took it. He always took a few days to himself when he got back from the Capitol, locked in that big, haunting house of his. Everyone knew better than to ask him about it, you always just counted it as part of his stay at the Capitol. So him “coming back,” was really whenever he reemerged in the streets of District 4.

This alcohol was always so much more pleasant then whatever concoctions people would make at parties, it burned, but not in a way that tasted like pure chemicals. No, this was much more enjoyable, and much more rare. “How rebellious of you, tsk tsk tsk.” You shook your head, tongue clicking as you handed the bottle back to him.

“Anything for you.” He flashed that winning smile that had everyone swooning, a smile you’d forced yourself to be immune to.

“Mmmm, I’m flattered for your crimes to be completely about me, and not you wanting to get shit faced on the beach.”

Finnick put the bottle in the sand between you two, “Of course not, I put wanting to see your shit faced on the beach way above my own needs.

“And what a gentleman you are!” You laughed, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards him before you took another drink of the bubbles.

You weren’t sure long the two of you had spent laughing about every stupid thing you could think of, but the bottle was almost gone, the sun setting. Finnick was picking up handfuls of sand and letting it sift through his fingers, you were letting the last few ways of sunlight warm your face.

“You know who I heard is desperately in love with you?” Your eyes are closed, smiling at the sun as it slowly fades away.

“You? Because I’ve known about that one for years.”

“No, asshole!” You sit up enough to shove him playfully and he’s laughing, which makes you laugh too, he’s so infectious. “Moira!”

Finnick takes what is probably the final sip from the bottle, “Who’s that?”

“You are such a dick, Finnick!” The smile hasn’t left your face though, in fact you’ve been feeling kind of floaty for a while now.

“What? I honestly don’t know, I swear! Should I?”

“Yes! You were flirting with her the other week, her parents run the, god, what do they run?”

“Don’t look at me!”

“Fuck, um, oysters! They do oysters, and you were talking to her at the market, flirting with her.”

“I was not flirting!”

“You were!” You copy his facial expressions, his defensive eyes, trying to suppress every giggle that wants to force its way out.

“That’s how I talk to everyone.”

“Well, I know that, but she doesn’t. Anyways, um…” You’re taking a second to rub your face, trying to regain your train of thought in your fuzzy brain.

“Somebody is shitfaced on the beach!” Finnick is poking at your nose.

“I am not! Oh my god, I’m not. I’m not!”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Oh, fuck off! As I was saying, Moira, thinks that the two of you are meant to be or something, that you’re gonna get married someday, I think she’s already planning out the wedding. So, I do need to know what I should be bringing, like what wedding gifts are you-”

“You think you are so funny.” Finnick rolls his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s laughing.”

“No, I am not!” He says, too defensively, and the two of you stare at each other in silence until you’re both cackling. By the time you’ve both stopped the sun is almost all the way down. A comfortable silence has settled between the two of you, “I’m never going to fall in love with anyone.” Finnick breaks the silence, throwing a pebble he found into the water. Your initial instinct is to say something snarky, but with one glance you can tell he’s being serious, the alcohol must have tricked him into being vulnerable. “I’m not going to let them hurt me through that.”

You don’t ask who ‘they’ are, you don’t really need him to say, you’d figured out for yourself what the odd cryptic things he’d mumble really meant. He didn’t need to open up like that if he didn’t want to, you could read him far too easily. “Never?” Your knees move up so you can lay your arms across them and prop up your head.

“Nope, never.” His gaze was trained steadily on the ocean before you both, but yours was on every small expression that could cross his face. You’d memorized every expression he could make.

You didn’t mention that he was only 16, an age that seemed far too young to claim to never love again when he would probably live 70 more years, a sad life to force himself into. He had his reasons though, even if he wouldn’t tell them to you, so you’d respect them. That’s what best friends are for. “Well, you better tell Moira the wedding is off, I feel like she might’ve already bought a dress though, so-”

There it is. He’s smiling again, and you’re successful. You have to make a pact to yourself too though, you can never love him anymore than you do right now, because you already love him far too much.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Don’t you dare!” You’re screaming through giggles, running away from the two boys trying to throw you into the ocean. They’re about to catch you when a very recognizable, honey-dripped voice is interrupting them.

“Don’t! It’s her birthday, Caspian just brought in a crate of white liquor.” Finnick says and the boys are off running to drink as much as they can before it runs out. As soon as they’ve moved though, Finnick is sweeping you up in his arms.

“Finnick!” You’re screeching instantly.

“What? You thought I was here to save you? Absolutely not, just wanted to do the honorary birthday girl splash myself!” He throws in some unnecessary spinning on his way to the water and you’re laughing, but not even trying to fight your way out of his arms, before being tossed into the shallow water.

You’re absolutely drenched when you sit up, and he’s trying to stifle his laughter. “You are evil, Finnick Odair! Absolutely evil.” It’s freezing, but in the best of ways, you love nights spent in the water. You brush your hands across your face, getting the water out of your eyes.

“You should’ve known better than to trust me.” His smirk is so unbelievably smug and you hate him for it, hate that you love it.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. At least help me up.” You reach out your arm and he sighs, taking it, so you quickly pull him down with you. It was far too easy, and you know he let you do it, but you laugh at him anyways. “What happened to knowing better? Takes to one to know one, I guess.” Before you can get another snarky remark in though he’s digging his fingers into your side, tickling you until you’re gasping for air, sides aching from laughter. “Fin, stop, stop it!” Splashing water at him to try and make him stop, but it does nothing.

He finally halts his actions when a rather annoyed voice is calling out to him, “Finnick!” You both look up to see Moira with her arms crossed, “You said you were only gonna be a minute!”

“Right, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, pointing at you with his free hand, “Found her!”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The way she says it is so icy it makes you want to shiver. “Come on, we should get inside, do cake and all that.”

“Yeah.” Finnick stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you up with him, and there’s a second where there’s a pause. Hand still in his as he looks at you, shining so angelic under the moonlight, he has to scold himself for it as he pulls his hand away. You scold yourself as well for even sensing a spark of something, he doesn’t want to fall in love, he won’t. So you need to be okay with that.

The walk back up to his house is quiet besides the sounds of seagulls, or the ocean waves crashing up and down the shore. You hate that you resent Moira, especially when you know she’s going to be let down just as you’ve been. Yet you are, he’s still your best friend, every moment you can have with him is so immensely precious. You don’t need anyone else hogging it up.

You’re shivering by the time you get inside of the house, still completely drenched, and the breeze hadn’t helped a bit. Finnick is quick to get you a towel the moment he looks at you, “Here you go, honey. Can’t have you getting hypothermic on me, especially on your birthday.” His hands rub up and down your arms, over the towel, trying to heat you up faster.

“Well whose fault would that be?” You jab back, but your voice is soft.

“Oh, I’ll make it up to you.” He clicks his tongue, moving a hand to softly move some of the wet hair that’s stuck to your face. His skin is somehow so warm even though he’d gotten just as soaked as you had. His thumb brushing across your face, looking into your eyes as he does it. Part of you hates him for this, he has to know what he’s doing, but you won’t tear yourself away. He’s addicting like that. His hand has just stayed still, holding the side of your face, and it’s as if neither of you can hear the rest of the party going on around you. It’s as if he’s forgotten himself to stare at you.

“Finnick, cake!” God, it’s so hard not to hate Moira nowadays. Her voice pries him away from you, out of the warmth and comfort of his touch.

“I’ve got it.” He still maintains enough eye contact though to show you the eye roll that’s pointed at her. Before he’s disappeared into the kitchen to grab said cake.

You’re sitting on the couch not long after that, fork pushing around your slice, as your eyes try not to bore into Moria’s head. Finnick is surrounded by a small group of people, leaning on the frame of a doorway, being his usual magnetic, sunshine self, and there she is. Draped all over him, laughing just a little too loudly at everything she says. It’s infuriating. You know you shouldn’t be jealous, you have no power over who does or doesn’t let that close to him, and you know he doesn’t love her. It’s still a bubbling anger though, one you try so hard to suppress, that forces itself forward, despite your own wishes. In fact, you beg it not to, but it persists. Why should she get to do that and think she’s so deserving of his love? You love him miles deeper than anybody else even knowing he’ll never love you the same. Someone is trying to talk to you, but you can’t hear a word they’re saying. Eventually you push yourself off the couch, leaving the plate, and are grabbing the last bottle of white liquor to go sit on the porch.

You’ve drunk at least half of the bottle of burning liquor when you hear the door opening behind you, “What’s wrong, honey?” Finnick is sitting right beside you, body heat already exerting off of him.

“Just needed some air.” You lie through your teeth and keep your eyes focused forward as you take another drink.

There’s a pause, he always knows when you’re lying, but he also knows how to read you the same way you’ve learned to read him. He knows better than to bring up why you’d choose to not be honest right now. “They’re looking for you to do gifts.”

You exhale, trying to breath out the negative emotions shrouding you. “I don’t need anything.” You say, finally looking at him.

“Sound the alarms, she’s 17 and too cool for the rest of us now.” He jokes, taking the bottle out of your hand to have a drink himself, shaking his head after gulping it down. “Remind me next time to smuggle more than I usually do, this is disgusting.”

You snort the smallest bit as you look down to the wooden porch, picking at it, when the door is opening again, and it’s that last voice you want to hear. “Finnick, what are you doing?” You are involuntarily grimacing at the sound of her voice, and you really know you shouldn’t, but jealousy isn’t a demon you fight off well.

“Moira?” Finnick isn’t even turning behind him.

“What?” She tries to sound somewhat sweet through the exasperated tone, honestly you’d be annoyed too if you were her, but you’re not.

“Fuck off, bother someone who cares.” He takes another drink from the bottle, and you know how much that probably hurt her, but you’re so glad she’s gone, so glad it was him who said something. Plus, isn’t this what being a teenager is supposed to be like?

“You’re such an asshole.” You say once the door has shut again, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling.

“You were jealous.” Finnick shrugs, taking yet another sip before trying to pass the bottle back to you, but you’re too stunned to speak, let alone grab it back. “What?” He chuckles, giving a cheeky smile.

“I was not!” You argue back when you’ve finally been able to regain some speech, feeling your cheeks burning up. Grabbing the bottle from his hand to chug some of the liquor down.

“I know you were, you don’t have to lie about it, it’s fine. She’s gone now.” He’s drunk, that much is abundantly clear. This is the sort of stuff that’s always remained unsaid between the two of you.

“You don’t need to do that for me.” You finally let yourself react, stop being defensive. There’s no point in hiding from a truth that you both know. It’s so mean of him though, to know you love him yet carry on playing with you as he does. Is it worse for you to let him?

“Not like her and I were going anywhere, anyways.” He cocks his head to the side.

“You knew what she wanted, Finnick, don’t be cruel.” You finish the rest of the bottle and stare into the dark night before you.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” Finnick’s voice feels so vulnerable, letting a small piece of that side of him break through.

You sigh, and you do want to reassure him, but when he’s being like this it feels more harmful to lie to him, so you divert, “Don’t think twice, it’s alright.” He might not be cruel, but that doesn’t mean that’s not how you feel deep down. He looks down at the ground, nodding, frowning a little, “Fin-” You instantly want to take it back, you’re not trying to hurt him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry.” He turns his head to look at you, and you avert your gaze forward again before standing suddenly.

“We should go inside, she’s right, we’re keeping everyone waiting.” You go to turn towards the door.

“Honey.” He’s grabbing your arm and you turn around to look at him, trying to ignore the way his touch tingles up the rest of your arm. You look at him expectantly and suddenly his lips are pressed to yours. He tastes like you’d imagined he would, like honey and saltwater. This only furthers the proof that he can’t help but be somewhat cruel, you know this will change nothing, and yet you can’t pull away. So you kiss him back, it’s really so brief, and you can taste the alcohol on both of your breaths as well, but this is the only time this can ever happen so you let it. When he finally pulls away he just rests his forehead against yours and you notice that he’s crying. So you don’t say a thing, just let him. He presses another kiss to your forehead when he’s finally been able to force the tears away, and it’s time to head back inside. With the silent acceptance that neither of you will talk about this ever again, and you keep to that promise.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I hate him.” Finnick remarks, throwing a random rock he found into the waves.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're not the one dating him then, isn’t it?” You stretch your arms out to let the wind fully engulf your body.

Finnick glowers at you, “I should have some say, you’re my best friend, I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you looking out for me, Finnick!” You say it too harshly and your laugh is much too incredulous for either of your tastes. “Sorry. Finn, I know you mean well.”

“Then just listen to me, not him, okay? Anyone, but him.” He’s turning to you, pleading, grabbing your hands in the warmth of his.

“Finnick, you said the same thing about Irving-” He’s about to cut you off with some excuse, but you don’t let him, “And Malik, you can’t do it to Lir too!”

“Don’t we have veto power? Like, with Moira!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Finnick, and it was two years ago! We’ve grown up and I have let you veto and veto, but Finnick, I- I don’t want to be alone forever!” You knew eventually this conversation would have to be had, especially now, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’re not alone, you’re never going to be alone.” Finnick is letting go of one of your hands to cradle your head and you don’t know why you let him when you should try to pull away.

“You know what I mean.” He does, you both do, and the waves crash as the words settle into the recesses of each of your brains. Finally he’s letting go of you completely, rubbing his face, trying to hide his emotions somehow. “Finnick, listen…” He looks up at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow in a way that feels somewhat scathing, but you have to brave it. Despite the fact that you can feel your heart beating out of your chest and that you are completely sick to your stomach, “Lir and I, we’re, we’re, um, fuck, Finnick, Lir and I are getting married.”

Whatever he expected you to say it most certainly wasn’t that and his reaction makes it seem like you’ve just shot him in the chest. You so desperately want to take it back, but you know that you can’t. You have to move on, you can’t let your life be dedicated to wishing for a love that he’ll never commit to giving you. Then you’re shocked because he’s laughing, sliding himself back into his cocky persona.

“Honey, you’re 19. This is a life commitment, don’t act out like this.” The idea that you’re ‘acting out’ makes you angrier than you’ve ever been with him in your life.

“Finnick, you know better than anyone that someone’s life can be gone like that.” You snap your fingers, “I want to live my life!”

He nods, angrily, swallowing, “So, you love him?”

“He loves me.”

This time Finnick’s laugh is cold, biting, “And that’s fair to him, how? Wow, I’d expect more from you, honey-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” The way you say it makes him still, he’s never seen you like this before, never heard your voice be so rigid. “I never said it was fair, do you think I feel like I’m doing the right thing? Because I don’t. Fuck, it keeps me up at night, I know, he deserves better, I fucking know that. And it’s so selfish, but what about me?” The tears have started slipping down your face before you can stop them, it’s like you’re trying to choke on them. “I want to be loved, really, truly loved. And maybe it will haunt me for the rest of my days, but it’s the only thing I have ever really wanted.” You take a second to let yourself breath, to wipe some of the tears away, “Finnick, I have never pushed you, or asked you, I have done exactly what you wanted because I respect your decision. You don’t even have to tell me why, you never do, but if I can’t be with the person who I love, why can’t you let me have this?”

You’ve finally calmed down your tears and your breathing has become steady once again, and Finnick is nodding slowly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re not selfish for that.” He finally says.

“Thank you.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The soft fabric of the dress is so comforting on your skin, not itchy like you’d expect a wedding dress to be. No, it’s flowy and the wind is sure to make it billow around you. One of your bridesmaids, Nerissa, is weaving flowers into your hair with the seashells that had been so carefully attached to the little pins. As always, the sound of the ocean waves through the open window relaxes any nerves that tried to approach.

“You look beautiful.” Finnick’s voice startles you and you smile at him in the mirror.

“Finnick! What are you doing here?” You ask and Nerissa tries to stick in one final pin.

“I know technically I shouldn’t sneak in before it starts, but I have something for you.” He’s got a twinkle in his eye as he approaches, and you can’t not smile back at him. Nerissa moves and suddenly he’s standing beside you, carefully moving your hair out of the way. Finnick adjusts a necklace onto your neck, glistening pearls, you notice they’re blue, the rarest color.

“Oh, Finn.” Your fingers trace across them as he clasps the necklace together/

“I got them for you last time I was in the Capitol, made me think of you.” His face is then right next to yours, warm cheek pressed to yours, “Something new and something blue.” He’s got that award-winning, cheeky smile, but there’s something sad in his eyes that makes you sad too.

“Thank you.” You turn to actually face him and say the words so softly, even though you know you shouldn’t, like you’re trying to let him know that you do still love him. Finnick looks at you, smirk turning into a soft smile.

“Of course, honey.” A nickname he definitely shouldn’t be using, but you don’t care, and he raises his hand to brush a stray hair behind your ear. His burning touch is so comforting, and yet it unearths all the anxiety about what you’re doing, all the anxiety you’ve been trying to push down. Suddenly he seems to realize what he’s doing and pulls his hand away, which you accidentally chase after. “You really do make the most beautiful bride.” Finnick straightens himself and stands up, about to walk out, “Oh, and I got you another gift, out on the table, a proper gift. And, I snuck some good bottles of champagne out onto the table.” He smiles and you can’t resist smiling and chuckling back at him.

“Thank you.” You watch him go so fondly, and then have to shake yourself off a bit. You need to remember what you’re about to do, why, you can’t get distracted. You want him so bad, but he can’t be the one you need, it’s not him.

That’s the mantra you repeat to yourself when you’re finally about to walk down the aisle. You’re so thankful that it’s on the beach, desperately wishing for the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean, the feeling of its misty breeze to give you the same comfort it always does, but it refuses. The churning of your stomach refuses to subside as you clutch onto the arm of your father to try and not fall, as your feet are starting to feel resistant. This happens to every bride though, right? Nerves are common, so is the feeling of cold feet, but you can do this. You have to do this. It’s the closest thing you’re ever going to have to the life you really want, to who you really want.

You feel almost like you’re out of your body as you walk down the seemingly infinite aisle. Lir is smiling so sweetly, he is so sweet, with his bright blue eyes, the curl of his brown hair, but you can’t stop your brain from filling all those attributes in for a sea green pigment instead, or waves of blonde. You’re scared your bouquet might break from how tight your fingernails are crushing into it. Everything feels heavy, you can’t even hear the waves anymore, just the rapid beat of your heart. You wonder if you look as terrified as you feel, that’s the last thing you need. Maybe it does just look like nerves though, if you’re really lucky.

When you finally reach the end, you’re trying not to visibly hyperventilate, and as your father lets go of you to sit down you try to look at him, to ask for some sort of help, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you okay?” Lir asks you quietly, brow furrowed. You don’t know why you nod, you do, because you need this, but you know you shouldn’t. You’ve never felt more trapped even if it’s a cage of your own making. “You look stunning.” He whispers before looking back at the officiant who is going on about something. You try to smile, but your eyes dart around the audience, looking for someone they most definitely shouldn’t be looking for. “I’ve never seen that necklace before-” Lir says something else, but you don’t hear it, your fingers trace up to it, feeling each bump.

Every movement, even your breathing suddenly freezes, “I’m so sorry.” You quickly blurt out, staring at Lir, and you really do feel bad, but that guilt isn’t nearly as terrible as the way you feel like you might suffocate. Everything has stopped, even the drone of the officiant, and you are so aware of everyone’s confused eyes being on you, so you make a run for it. Dropping the bouquet and suddenly you feel freer than a bird.

The ocean air is whipping around you and you are getting as far as you can away from all of it. Ripping off your sandals as you go, just letting your feet feel the coarse sand of the beach. Your cheeks feel frozen from the mist hitting them so harshly, but it makes you feel so alive. Most of the flowers and pins of seashells have probably been flung around the ground, the path of you. You keep running until you can’t breathe anymore, until your sides are burning and aching in the best of ways, a fire that burns so perfectly. Letting yourself stop in the water, it wades up to your knees, and you like the dress better that way too. This is what is real.

“Fuck!” You exclaim to no one but yourself as you stare at the sky, spinning in the water. Feeling the sun beat down on you, laughing at yourself, at everything, at nothing in particular.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Suddenly Finnick’s grabbing your arms, steadying you, his cheeks are bright red and you can tell he was running after you. “If it’s just nerves, he’ll understand, everyone will, you can go back, honey.” You’re smiling as you shake your head and he’s furrowing his brow in confusion. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Oh my god, no! I thought I did, but no.” You press a hand to your forehead, and then to his chest, “And don’t think this is me trying to make you do something that you don’t want, Finn. It’s not, I respect you too much for that, I just, I thought that I needed that, that I needed someone to love me, but I can’t do that to someone. I can’t just hope to love him eventually because that’s just not going to happen, I can’t give up the only thing that might let me.”

Finnick still looks confused as you maintain your smile, your breathing finally allowing itself to go back to normal, “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes! I’ll be an old maid by the sea, I don’t care, I can’t do it!”

Finnick takes a deep breath and something about the way he does it just tells you exactly what he’s going to say, “Honey, I-”

“I know, Fin, I’ve always known, but I also know you have your reasons for what you do. It’s enough for me to just know.”

He looks at you, like he’s thinking just for a second, “No it’s not.”

“What?”

“That’s not enough. It’s not enough for you, and it’s definitely not enough for me. They can’t have all of me! Maybe it’s selfish, but I want this one thing for myself.”

“You don’t have to say it just because I-”

“I’m not! I almost let you marry another man and I realized, it wasn’t worth it. If you want this, and I want this, let’s just do it. I’ll figure everything else out, just, you should marry me. Please.”

The shock almost stops you from doing anything at all, but the excitement far overcomes that. You pull him in, kiss him, and his hands find your face. Melting into his touch, and never had life felt so right. Wind billowing around, sun shining down, and come what may, at least you have each other.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As always, thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are always much appreciated. I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this, I really enjoyed writing it, and I cried while I did 💋

[daisyjonesgf]

let me down easy // finnick odair x f. reader

based off this blurb

summary: finnick pushed himself away, isolated himself, and you're slipping through his fingers like sand.

masterlist

3.8k words

warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, a little smutty but also very brief, mental illness, insecurity, paranoia, allusions to cheating (no one is actually cheating), slightly mean!finnick, self destructive behavior on all sides, more insecurities, arguments, feeling isolated, slight blood and injury, female rage things, male masturbation, unedited, no use of y/n, brief mentions of vomiting, girls girls all around, annie cresta my beloved being a girl girl, people pleaser reader

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Once every day had felt like it was full of sunlight, even if there were ups and downs you always had each other by the end of it. Now you weren't even sure if you had yourself, let alone Finnick. Worst of all you had no idea what you'd done wrong, at first you chalked it up to how he'd just returned from the Capitol. But usually his isolation was a day at the most before he'd succumb to your comfort. Instead it had been nearly a month of radio silence.

He stopped the way he'd pepper your face with kisses to wake you up and bring you to the kitchen where he'd have made breakfast, telling you mindless stories about his morning swim. Now if he did anything for you it felt robotic, out of necessity, there was no helping you with your hair, having fun picking out your outfits, he was barely around. Never would you have thought you could be such an outcast in your own home, your own relationship.

At first you'd thought you just weren't doing enough, that he needed some extra love to help him open up. Reluctantly you'd fully wake yourself up when you felt him rise for his swim, take up the position of making him breakfast instead. Busying yourself with his favorites until he returned and you put on your best smile when he did, hopeful it would be somewhat successful.

“Good morning!” You greeted and were met with a confused look, a nod. You'd always hated getting up this early yet here you were and he did nothing.

“I have to take a shower." He muttered and was up the stairs. It was a disappointing resolution, but then your hopes had still been high. So you kept making his favorites throughout the next few days, scattering gifts for him throughout the house, writing notes to hide where he might find them, desperate to show him how much you loved him.

“Where are you going?" Your voice startled him and he slowly turned his head towards you.

Finnick's voice was so dry, rigid, “Fishing."

“Oh, let me get my shoes on, I'll come with!" Bright smiles, you reminded yourself when it felt like wavering.

“I'd rather go alone."

“Right." It wanted to falter so bad, “How long are you gonna be gone? I could make you lunch to go or something."

“I'm okay."

You fidgeted with your fingers, “Yeah, okay, well, um, have fun." Then he was gone, without a kiss, even a hug goodbye. Come to think of it there hadn't been any at all for a while, not even in the morning which is something he'd always do. So after a few days failing with those attempts you'd convinced yourself of a different reason.

“Annie, be honest with me, do you think I'm pretty?" The two of you had been out in the garden of Victors Village and she seemed taken aback.

“Honey, of course you're pretty. You're beautiful, what brought this on?" She dropped what she was doing to look at you.

You darted around the specifics, “What about the way I dress, is it too frumpy?"

“No! There's nothing wrong with anything about you." Her voice was so soft and she felt like the only person you could talk to now that Finnick had pushed himself away from you. “What's going on?"

You felt yourself finally crying all the held back tears you'd hid for the moments alone, “What if he's found someone prettier and more exciting?” You sobbed out and Annie hugged you.

"Finnick worships the ground you walk on, he'd never do that.”

"He barely even talks to me anymore, Annie. It's like I don't exist.”

“He's just going through a rough patch, it's not your fault."

Regardless of what Annie said, you disagreed. He must have had someone else, but you couldn't confront him about it. No, if you did then it would become real and he'd leave you for them. There had to be someone else taking on his hardships and loving him the way he'd once let you. So you bought new makeup, new lingerie, new clothes, tried to feel more attractive, more desirable. Yet it didn't seem like he even noticed.

You'd waited for his return all day, he'd left so early you hadn't even seen him. You made dinner praying that he'd see the effort you made, and find you irresistible once again. Of course, this effort seemed to be in vain.

“Welcome home, Finn!" You greeted when he walked through the front door, pained by the sound of your own faux bubbly voice. You put a plate down in front of his usual seat.

“Thanks." He mumbled and you smiled cheerfully. Perhaps you'd been too solemn and he'd prefer someone who exuded more sunshine-like behavior. “How was your day?" His voice was sharp, curt, but it was a conversation nonetheless. Always better than nothing.

“It was good!" You lied through your teeth, there hadn't been a single moment where your brain hadn't been infested with the thought of him pushing you away, him with someone else. It was something you desiped, you preferred to be in the moment. When you had been confident in yours and Finnick's relationship you could immerse yourself in the company of others, enjoy menial tasks with humming and daydreams, but now the isolation haunted your mind. “Annie and I planted some new flowers and cut some that recently finished blooming. I finally changed our vases out." He didn't even glance around, just kept eating. Your Finnick had always made an effort to look around, praise you for anything you did, he took pride in you, now the only thing he took pride in was being able to avoid you.

He curtly nodded his head in response and you felt like you might snap. Especially as the silence persisted, nothing except the sounds of the house and his fork clinking on the plate. You chewed at your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down waiting for the smallest bit of conversation, but nothing came. Eventually you shot out of your seat, grabbed your plate, which you were sure you wouldn't be able to stomach, and began cleaning up dinner. Hands gripping each dish so hard as if to contain all the rage you'd been repressing.

“I can clean up." Finnick murmured as he rose.

Being lazy was another thing you thought could be a reason. He did so much for you and whatever you had to offer must not have been enough. Yes, he'd always insisted that you should just be his pretty girl that he could look at when he did the tasks, but in secret he must have just wanted you to resist and do more. So you vehemently shook your head, “No, I've got it!" Your voice was strained and several pitches too high to sound natural.

“It's fine, I can do it.” How dare he have the gall to sound annoyed with you.

“I've got it Finnick, just go to bed!" Or whatever the fuck else is he does to be away from you. You regretted how snappy you were, he wanted someone easy going, not how uptight you were being. But god, hate that man for how he looked like a wounded puppy dog. “Sorry." You muttered, only partially genuine. Harshly grabbing a glass to clean, hands gripping around it, so harshly it seemed that when you went to put it to dry, it shattered in your hand. Your reaction was delayed as you stood there in disbelief, you hated your life, “Fuck.”

Then his hand was on your back and you involuntarily jerked at the contact you hadn't felt for so long. “You're bleeding." How the hell was his voice still so stony, a mystery you'd never know the answer too. It sent tingles up your spine the way his hand was on your back, you missed his touch. He led you to the bathroom where he carefully tended to the cuts in your hand. Carefully taking out the pieces of glass and although you occasionally winced, it was like your brain couldn't comprehend the pain over the buzzing about his hand touching yours. But once he bandaged it up the touch was gone and so was he with a, “I'll clean up."

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. But you hated being angry with him when he was probably going through something, he'd struggled so much and just needed help. Was it really excusable though when it was tearing you apart to be in all of this. You got up and without a second thought walked straight out the front door. Feet guiding you to the comfort of the beach. Of course it invoked memories of all the better times spent with Finnick, but out here at least you had the ocean. It has started to rain and you didn't care. Walking out into the sea, as far as you could touch, and letting the freedom of the waves surround you. And you screamed, at the sky, at the waters, into the night. Trying so desperately to let go of the aggression, so you could keep trying. Inhaling the salt air before you walked back inside, you could do this. Every relationship had trials and tribulations, but you could be stronger, stick together.

As you were walking back, Finnick was jogging towards you, “Are you okay?" There was actual emotion in his voice, you longed to be privileged to it more often.

“Yeah."

“I thought I… " He trailed off, hand running through his hair. The way he looked like he might cry sparked guilt in you, but also a sick pleasure that he actually cared. “You're gonna get sick." Just as quickly his tone returned to being straight-laced.

You didn't care, if you were sick maybe he would take care of you. So you walked inside and he said nothing. You showered and changed, you'd gotten a new nightgown that left little to the imagination. Maybe you could get a rise out of him, get him to touch you more. But he seemed to be fast asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so you slipped into bed beside him. In the past he'd always sleep with his arms around you, but now you slept beside each other rather than with one another. It left you cold, despite the blankets, which were barely there as he'd always been a blanket hog, which you used to tease him for, but was fine because you were attached to him. Now you laid there and felt yourself crying. You cursed yourself for it, not right now, but you couldn't stop. So you covered your mouth with a hand as you sobbed into it.

The next morning you felt him wake, but there was no energy to make breakfast. You were exhausted and it hadn't made him love you again anyways. So you drifted back off until the sound of floorboards creaking when he returned woke you up. You sat up in bed as he entered the bedroom. “Morning, Finn." The smile you worked hard to maintain was back.

“Morning." He mumbled and then his eyes faltered on you. That's when you remembered the nightgown, it was a relief for something to keep his eyes on you. ‘Love me, even if it's just for my body, love me in some way.’ Your brain begged to no avail. “Shower." He slowly said even though he'd very obviously grown hard.

You felt humiliated, completely embarrassed to be dressed the way you were and him to still not want you. It made you want to cry again, but you had to persist. Rising to get dressed until you heard your name. It took you a second to process that he was moaning it, you were right there and he was getting himself off to the thought of you when he could've just had the actual you. That had to be a new type of low. You hadn't even dared to touch yourself no matter how badly you wanted him because you knew nothing you did could match the things he'd made you feel. Yet here he was, so easily jerking off. There was nothing you could do except seethe as you got ready for your day. At least it was your name and not some other girls.

You were in the kitchen when he walked downstairs, “Going to the market." He announced and you got up from your chair.

“I'm coming too." It wasn't a question.

"No, it's okay. I've just got a couple things to grab.”

"So do I, so I'll just come along to grab them. You don't even have to stick by me, I'm just going.” You were exasperated. Honestly you hadn't left the confines of Victors Village for a while, besides when you tried to recall your look, and this would be a good opportunity to see if he was being honest. There was nothing you really had to get, but at least you'd somewhat had his company.

He said nothing but waited as you put on your sandals and then the two of you set off. The silence was deafening as you two walked, your Finnick would always hold your hand, would've taken you from booth to booth and ramble on endlessly, buy anything you glanced at with interest, but now he stood too far away for your hands to even brush by each other. The bustling of the market was a relief and for the first time in a long time you naturally smiled. Although it was jarring how quickly Finnick put on a smile, made conversation with all these people when he hadn't blessed you with the same thing. In fact, it instantly dampened your mood.

“Haven't seen you in so long, missed seeing that pretty smile!" All your favorite vendors gushed and you'd smile, make small talk. Even if everything made you think of Finnick. When was the last time he'd called you pretty? When was the last time he kissed you?

“You look a little sad, are you alright?" And you'd insist you were just feeling a little under the weather. You'd somewhat kept your distance from Finnick until you saw him laughing with a girl in the market. When was the last time he'd laughed with you? Is this what he did, found pretty girls in the market, charmed them, and went back home with them?

You'd slowly approached and showed fake interest in one of her necklaces. “They're real pearls." She said. She was so pretty, stunning. What did she have that you didn't? You hummed, smiling and without a word, Finnick was handing you money.

‘I don't want your money, I want you to pay attention to me.’ You thought and shook your head, “I don't need your money, Finn." The only thing you'd want from him was something he'd pick out because he wanted to give it to you, something he'd always done if you hadn't been there with him. Showing up at home with little treasures to show off to you. He looked at you quizzically, it wasn't like you had any money of your own on you.

“Is this your girlfriend?" The woman asked, her voice was sweet like sugar, you were too gruff, that's what you were missing.

Right now though, your voice was breathy, anxious. “Yeah." The woman must have been able to sense something off because she looked at you with pity. Finnick left the money on the counter by you regardless of what you said and walked off. You sighed.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know."

You gave a sad smile, “It's okay, not your fault." You picked the money up, ready to go find him.

“He's just a guy, even if he's Finnick Odair, don't let him dim your spark." It should've been encouraging, except you knew you loved him too much to ever leave him.

You found him, chatting and smiling as he bought produce. You missed his smile. “Here." You said quietly, handing him his money.

“Where's the necklace?"

“Didn't need it." You didn't care about needing it, you care that he would rather have you buy things for yourself then make you feel valued.

He huffed, like you were frustrating him, annoying him. “Okay, use it to find something else then. You said you weren't going to stick around me." You couldn't stop yourself from physically recoiling from his venom.

“I just came to tell you I was going home." You said weakly, staring at the ground. “Have fun." Your voice cracked slightly and you didn't even bother looking up as you walked home. Immediately settling yourself into bed where you refused to move. Eventually he came home, something clicked onto the dresser table, the sun went down and you stayed put. When he crawled into bed the most movement you made was flipping onto your side to have the protection of your back facing him.

For days it was a cycle of laying in bed, only rising once he left, usually to stand under the burning hot water in the shower until your skin felt raw. Then immediately returning back to bed. He'd return, put something on the dresser, and you'd stay still. Eventually one night he'd come home and sat at your feet, mattress dipping. “We need to talk."

Your hands clamped over your ears, this was it, he was done with you, all that effort for nothing. The anxiety knotted in your stomach, “I'm gonna be sick." You forced yourself up and found yourself throwing up in the toilet, Finnick holding your hair back.

“Hey, it's okay. It's okay, sweet girl." When you were done you said nothing as you brushed your teeth, praying he would leave and forget whatever bad news he was surely bearing. But he didn't, he waited and sat on the bed, waiting for you. Who exited, arms crossed, trying not to cry.

“Please don't break up with me." It was pathetic to beg for but he stood up, looking bewildered.

“No, no, no, I'm not gonna break up with you, sweet girl. I wouldn't even think of it." His hands cradled your face and you melted into them.

Finally you let the tears fall, "Then what are we talking about?”

"I've been so terrible to you, a terrible partner, a terrible person. I…” He took a deep breath in, "I had a rough time in the Capitol, I always do, especially last time though. And I knew you would be able to tell and try to help, but it was easier for me to just block you out so I didn't have to deal with it. Because it hurts to think about." He was crying and it made your heart ache. "And I took you for granted. I didn't try to be there for you, I was selfish and I can't make up for it enough. I will spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

You were both sobbing and he pressed his forehead to yours. His hands were so warm, his touch was so perfect. "I want to help you.”

"I know.” He pulled his forehead away, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I need you to tell me how you felt. Not the sweet way you usually explain things, be honest, so honest.

You shook your head, “No, it's okay. It was just miscommunication."

“No, I think I nearly broke you and everybody else noticed before I did. I need to know your raw feelings, so I can attempt to make it up to you.” He let go of your shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I thought you were cheating on me.” You said quietly, anxiously playing with your fingers. He already looked hurt, "Like you found someone else because I wasn't, I don't know, fun enough, pretty enough, hardworking enough. And you didn't want me to do anything with you ever or notice anything I did for you." You took a deep breath, you could feel yourself getting angrily worked up and he could tell.

“If you're angry, be angry." He said and you obeyed.

“And I bought new clothes for you, changed my makeup routine, smiled more, made all your favorites, woke up earlier, tried to take on burdens and you said nothing. Do you know how lonely I was? How bad that made me feel about myself? One day you weren't letting me lift a finger, telling me you loved me, now pretty I was, and the next I thought I'd never hear any of that again, let alone have you touch me. No kisses, or hugs, you didn't even hold me when we slept! And you were so closed off and sometimes mean on top of that and all I wanted was your attention. Until finally I gave up because at least even if you weren't really with me, I still had you, and I didn't want you to leave me just because I found out there was someone else, which is so fucked. And then I thought, maybe at the very least, he’ll have me for my body, I had new lingerie, I tried and you didn't give a fuck. No, you got yourself off in the goddamn bathroom and I was right here!” Your voice had risen and your inhales were sharp between the ranting, "And everytime I hated what you were doing to me, I'd feel bad because what you've been through is so much worse and I should still try to be there for you. So I tried and then you'd be annoyed with me and it was like torture. And I swear to god, if you ever do that again, I'll leave.” A weight lifted off of your chest and he hugged you.

“I'm so sorry, I won't ever do it again, I love you so much, you're so pretty and kind and I need you in my life." You held onto him like he would slip away, kissing away your tears that were falling even though he was also crying. He held you until the sobbing had mostly subsided, “You know I bought you all these stupid gifts when you were laying there, thinking it would make you feel better, but I don't even think you noticed." He chuckled and you turned your head, not wanting to tear away from him. All you could see was the necklace from where you were standing. “Not that it would've done anything after all the time I spent letting the castle crumble around us.

"Thank you.” It was muttered and then he tried to pull out of the hug which made you whine. Trying to cling on forever.

His hand tilted your chin towards him, “You wanna put one of those sets on that you got for me so I can show you how pretty you are and how sorry I am for neglecting my sweet girl?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

sorry y'all angst is my default settings. thank you for reading, comments, likes, reblogs, feedbacks is all super appreciated. asks and requests are open, love you all, sorry again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[daisyjonesgf]

andante, andante // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

3.3k words

request: could you write a oneshot where finnick and reader have always had a flirty relationship. the reader got taken and tortured by snow during the quarter quell, and she was brought to thirteen and when finnick sees her lots of fluff (and maybe smut?) ensues. i love your work, happy 700 followers!

warnings: smut, lots of it, there's some angst in the beginning Captiol related, confessions of feelings, hurt/comfort in the beginning, pnv, some degredation, teasing, use of good girl, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, unedited

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

There was no energy left, not a single part of your body had any form of passion left. Long ago you'd grown immune to the effects that Peeta and Johanna's screams had once had on you, probably once the starvation and dehydration had kicked in. Not to mention when you were trying to fight off the rats you could swear where in your pitch black cell, sometimes you'd swear you saw other creatures as well, but you tried to tell yourself it was hallucinations.

So when the team from District 13 came to rescue you all, you desperately willed the energy to return. You couldn't see him like this, Finnick. Technically you were just friends, but your relationship hinged on the flirtatious, playful banter which you didn't know if you had anymore. You hadn't spoken in a while, maybe you wouldn't even recognize your voice, it's not like the Capitol had much information they could get out of you. No one had thought to inform you of the rebel plan, for a while part of you was terrified that Snow would just have you killed for not knowing anything, but you were kept alive.

You'd had endless time to spend, when you weren't hearing or seeing things in your hazy state, to think about Finnick. How you weren't sure if he felt the same way about you that you'd felt about him for years, but should've said something before all this. Wishing that before you surely died in the Capitol he would know you had always cared for him, loved him from afar. You'd rather die with your love unrequited, but known. Yet now you'd see him again and you hoped if there was a chance he had feelings for you that you were half the woman you once were.

Of course, once all the fluids the medics were pumping you full of had taken effect you'd probably feel some of the spirit you'd had return. The universe seemed to look down on you because the first feeling you did feel in full force was anxiety about Finnick. You'd heard whispers of his names from guards so you knew he wasn't dead, but hadn't a clue how he actually was. Maybe you'd made up the voices of the guards and he actually was dead, what a cruel fate that would be, but with the way your life seemed to pan out it wouldn't have shocked you. Although if he was alive it condemned you to living the rest of your life in silent adoration, but he was the only person you would ever do that for.

When you entered the District 13 base on that medical bed the next full force feeling hit, overstimulation. The only noise you had been used to in weeks were the cries of Peeta and Johanna which you'd learned to tune out regardless of how loud, and the occasional order from a guard or a whisper. The flurry of doctors ready to fully assess injuries, people standing around full of questions, all the chatter and noise had your hands flying up to cover your ears. It was too bright, too loud, the bed was rickety in the floors little bumps, and you actually longed to be back in the familiarity of the cell.

“Hey, you're okay, honey." A much softer voice, much closer, warms ringer delicately brushing the hands covering your ears. Finnick. Your eyes snapped open as you slowly observed him.

“Finnick?" Your voice was much quieter, scratchier than you'd remembered it, but he seemed to hear you just fine. His kind smile blessing you as he slowly nodded, the next emotion was relief. You hadn't cried in a while, no water to allow yourself, but the fluids must have been working miracles because you felt like there was a flood about to break through your tear ducts. “You're real right?"

His hand landed more firmly on yours, assuring you with his very real body heat. “I'm real, I'm right here with you." Slowly you moved your hands from your ears, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to handle the noise. He looked like he was going to cry, “God, I'm so glad you're okay!" Finnick's warm embrace surrounded you and it made you want to melt into him forever. “They kept sedating me because I was so worried about you."

It confused you, to hear him talking about worrying about you with so much passion, of course he'd consumed your every thought, but you'd doubted you would've been on his. “Oh, come on, you would've found someone else to banter with, Finn." The first laugh you'd had in so long forced itself out.

“Good thing that the only person I want to banter with is you, and here you are, pretty face and all."

There was a pause before your voice came out again, delicate like a flower petal floating on the waters. "I missed you.” It came out sounding more vulnerable then you'd intended, maybe even too fond and he'd pulled his arms away. Before you could retreat though you were shocked when his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, and spoke a thousand words you could only ever wish to translate.

When he pulled away you could only stare at him stunned, he'd felt the same way you'd felt all along. “I'm sorry, I-" Before he could finish you pulled his face back in, kissing him, it was addictive, you could drown in his lips. “You know, it's rude to interrupt." He muttered out before kissing you again.

“Sorry." You weren't, there was no time to be when it was like you living in a dream. Maybe this was a dream, maybe you were back in the Capitol and had officially lost it, but the heat of his touch was too real for you to believe that.

“I've loved you for so long." Finnick's hand cupped your face which must have been burning up.

“Me too, I didn't think you'd ever even noticed me that way."

“How could I not have noticed my pretty, sweet girl that way?" His smile was so perfect it made you feel like you were floating. The doctors insisted on doing an official check up on you which Finnick stuck by you diligently for. Fluids and food was all you really needed besides further psychological evaluation, but there wasn't much time for that when apparently Peeta was turning out to be the biggest problem imaginable.

Finnick had sat by your hospital bed, slowly feeding you a soup that felt like the best thing you'd ever eaten with all the time you'd gone without a scrap. He filled you in on life in District 13, how much protocol there was, but it would be worth it to end all of this so you could be together. Apparently he'd been assigned his own compartment which he rarely used when the breakdowns hit, so he'd spent nearly every night sedated in the hospital wing.

Eventually the doctors agreed to let you take a shower, you'd still be sequestered to the hospital wing, but you were grateful for the chance to finally be clean. You could sense that Finnick hated that you would be out of his sight again, like the moment you walked away he would realize this was all a dream he was having that had slipped away under the cover of night. “Do you wanna come with?" You whispered to him as the medic on the other side took the IV out of your arm, “Somebody's gonna have to show me the way there."

“Can I?" He whispered back and hurt you to know that he'd been this hurt over you, that you'd both gone so long without a confession to the other.

You nodded slowly as you pressed a quick kiss on his lips and he smiled, maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Finnick guided you through the drab underground of District 13. It was stuffy, but you were overtaken by giddiness. The Finnick Odair was holding your hand, the Finnick Odair had meant every flirty comment he'd made, Finnick Odair loved you back, Finnick Odair wasn't just a dream you could never have, Finnick was here, Finnick was yours. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. And the final petal had determined he loved you.

He turned the water on for you and Finnick respectfully turned around so you could undress and get inside of it. Your heart swelled to think he missed you so much he would be content to just sit outside, to feel your presence in the room. The feeling of the water hitting your skin was a relief, to feel the grime being washed away. It was lonely though, to think of him patiently waiting for you, how long he's waited to know you were safe, how long he'd waited for you to confess. “Are you gonna make me be alone in here?” You cringed at the way no matter how quiet your voice was it seemed to echo.

You'd hid behind the curtain, so you didn't have to confront the question. Maybe he didn't want to, but you'd also thought he just wanted to flirt as friends. The curtain swept to the side as he peeked his handsome face in, eyes glued to your face. "Not if you need my help, honey.” You would've sworn the way he said those endearments always made butterflies flutter in your stomach, even if it was something you'd felt guilty about when he initially began using it.

The hot water should have relaxed your muscles, but staring at his perfect, handsome face was making you feel a similar sensation that you despised. Whether he knew it or not, the sound of his voice, the things he'd say, and that smile of his all did unimaginable things to you. Things you'd felt guilty for when the fantasies flashed in your mind. He'd been your friend, so it must've been wrong to imagine him with his hands between your legs. Now though, he wasn't just your friend, and the feeling was back. “Maybe I do." It was embarrassing, but just being by his body would help you or maybe it would make the feeling worse, but you didn't care.

He grinned at you and disappeared for a few seconds before he'd opened the curtain again, slipping into the shower. “What do you need my help with, sweet girl?" Now you'd have to come up with something, you tried not to let your eyes trail over his body, he wasn't looking anywhere but your face. But it was hard when it felt like some tingling part of your body was now controlling your actions.

“Can you help me clean myself off?"

"Of course, honey.” He went to grab the shampoo bottle, eyes never ducking down. Part of you wanted him too though, so that this felt less like a dirty fantasy.

"You can look at me, you know? I won't bite, unless asked, promise.” You tried to sound like it was playful, soft and he laughed.

"Yeah, sorry, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable either." You reassured, “I'm not making you uncomfortable though, am I? If I am-" One of his hands grabbed yours making you pause.

“You're not making me uncomfortable either, you're okay." His sweet smile made you feel more than just like melting, you hoped the wetness pooling between your thighs wouldn't be noticeable in the water. Finnick softly turned you around to wash your hair, he was so particular, taking his time and the feeling of his breath on your neck, clever fingers in your hair. It was so calming, “This okay, honey?" You could only hum in approval as his hands moved so delicately across your scalp. Your brain so easily fell into an easy blissful state as you let his hands move your head with ease. He finished with your hair soon enough and was moving onto washing your body. You shuddered when he carefully pushed your hair off the back of your neck, “You sure you're okay?”

"Yeah.” It comes out more strained than you'd meant it to and you pray he's not put off by it, which he doesn't seem to be as his hands keep trailing downwards. He's soaped and rinsed you off, moving you with so much care that you wish you could absorb each second of it, but you're trying to leave the moment. If you let yourself think about it you're sure you'll give yourself away with the way you'd be responding to his touch. Then it's nearly impossible when he's washing your face, his hands seem like they were perfectly meant to hold your face and suddenly so do his lips when he's kissing you again. Instantly you're pulling him in closer, basically inhaling whatever he gives you. Then you're pausing when his hands start slipping down the small of your back.

Much to your chagrin he pulls away, pausing his hands descent, as he looks at you, “Are you okay with this?" He asks, his eyes speak depths on how much he cares. You nod trying to lean in again, but he leans back, “Need to hear you say it, sweet girl."

"Yes, Finn.” It's barely audible, but he rewards you by kissing you again. Fingers continuing their trail down your back, grazing over nerves that make you shiver. His hands finally land on your hips and you can barely breathe, but you won't let yourself pull away from his lips. They're too addictive and you're too scared you'll wake up to realize you never left the Capitol. And then his hands are slipping lower, your thighs pressing together.

His hands are slowly spreading your legs apart and you let them. Whimpering into his lips when his fingers start tracing over your pussy. His lips pull away and you whine more, even if it gives you a chance to gasp for air. “You're dripping, sweet girl, I haven't even done anything. I bet…” Finnick trails off and you gasp when the tips of two of his fingers are lightly pushing into you. You're instantly clenching around them and he's smirking. “Were you gonna tell me I was making you this dizzy?" You hum out something incoherent when his other fingers start rubbing you. “Seems like someone doesn't know how to use her words, sweet girl, I just have to look at her and understand how needy she is…” He kisses your neck, "Doesn't tell me she feels the same way about me, I have to do it.” Another kiss to another sensitive spot and you gave up on any idea of suppressing the wanton sounds you're making now. He was rubbing you faster now, “Someone's gonna have to teach you to use your words, like a good girl. Not today though."

"Finn-” You moaned out, head tilting back. "Need you, need you so bad. Need you inside me.” You clenched around the tips of his stationary fingers and he thrusted them upwards, the sound you let out was guttural with shock.

“You sure you can take me, sweet girl? Want me to split you open instead of helping you open?" He sounded condescending as he kept moving his fingers inside of you as you whined, before letting out another moan as he slipped a third finger in you.

“Don't care, Finn, don't care if it hurts, need you cock in me. Please, please, please.”

He slipped his fingers out and your eyebrows scrunched together as you whined, he was opening your mouth with his fingers soaked in your juices. “You're my pretty little cock slut aren't you? Gonna let me break you on my cock?" You sucked his fingers in confirmation, licking off your own juices and he smirked. “Did you fantasize about me? Were you not able to tell me how you felt because you were too busy making yourself dumb thinking about my cock?" You nodded, moaning as his other hands began making even more aggressive circles. His hand titled your head up, “If you want my cock, then you're gonna tell me what you thought about when you were fucking yourself stupid."

It was hard to form words when you wanted to do nothing but whine at the pleasure rushing through your body, "You, I thought about how much I wanted you-” Your head fell back when his circles got rougher and then was forcing your head back up, "Wanted you inside of me, touched myself thinking about, oh my god, Finn, please I can't it's too much, wanna cum when you're inside me.”

He was quiet for a second before sighing, “When you beg like that how am I supposed to refuse you anything? Just because my sweet girl just got back to me and must be being so brave, using her words like that. But you're not getting out of it next time, honey." Finnick removed his hand and you let out an involuntary whine.

"Thank you, Finn.” You said breathily as he finally lined himself up with your entrance. “Already so close."

“So needy." He clicked his tongue as he started pushing into you, you clawed into his back. “Jump." You obeyed and he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his waist. Trying not to hit at his back when caused more of him to push in, but you couldn't stop yourself from the scream you let out when he carefully pushed your back against the shower wall and he bottomed out in you. “So tight, this pussy was made for me, feels so good." He groaned, “Can I move?"

“Please, you're so deep in me, feels so good. Wanna be yours, Finn, want you to do what you want with me." His face planted itself in between your neck and shoulder and you could feel him smiling into your skin.

“You're so sweet, honey." Then he was moving again and you were instantly crying out, “Everyone's gonna find us if you keep this up, know you're mine now." At your insistence he let himself be fast, pound in and out of you as you tightened around him.

Finnick moved a hand up to protect your head as he thrusted recklessly into you. It felt like an eternity of his perfect noises and seeing stars with each movement, you were so grateful that it was your cunt making him groan like that, that he wanted to be inside of you. “Oh my god, Finn, I'm gonna come."

“Good girl, come undone on my cock, sweet girl. Wanna look at your pretty face when you let go for me.” You could've sworn that you'd left the planet when he brought you past the edge. He must have felt it too because your ecstasy doubled when you felt him releasing inside of you, how full you were of him.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, listening to each other's breathing, but nothing had ever felt so perfect. “They're gonna wonder what happened to us." You eventually let out a breathy laugh and he nodded into your shoulder. He tapped your leg and you unhooked them from around his waist. Feet falling onto the cold tiles below.

“Good, I've got to make up for lost time." He kissed your forehead before finally pulling out of you and you hated how empty you felt without him. Finnick pressed his forehead against yours and you watched the steam from the water gather around him, “I should've told you sooner, if you hadn't been okay and here with me again, I don't know if I could've lived with myself knowing you never knew I loved you." And the way he kissed you sealed your fate, you would forever be making up for the times that neither of you confessed to how hopelessly you adored each other and you would relish every moment of it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading! I'm going to try and get chapter two of the river out before I do the next request, working on scheduling these each out! if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, comments, likes, reblogs, and my asks/requests are open! thank you again and love you all 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[daisyjonesgf]

the river (1) // finnick odair x f.reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy

the lakes previous chapter

next chapter

masterlist

7.2k words

warnings: angst, fluff, mental illness, suicidal ideations, self hate, young finnick and reader dynamics, a love triangle that was never a love triangle, smug finnick, it's so cheesey, pining, this is not a slow burn, implied soulmates, unedited, no use of y/n, allusions to trafficking, mentions of torture

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick’s been staring blankly at the hovercrafts’ walls for longer than he can imagine, since it had stopped waiting and left you for dead in the dilapidated arena. He knew if he reacted the way he wanted too they would sedate him and currently he needed to live with his guilt. He should've refused to let you go with Katniss, or have torn out your tracker himself. Most importantly he should never have told you about the rebel plan, of course he only revealed the basics on how you were to get Katniss out of the arena and go to District 13, but that could seriously jeopardize any semblance of sympathy the Capitol would have for you. 

He imagined you on the beach, devoting your life and love to him, and how before Snow broke or killed you, maybe even both, he'd never given you a proper wedding. All the traditions from back home, in a proper ceremony, with a dress would never happen. A large part of him didn't even feel like fighting the rebellion for you, since there was a probability that if the rebels one, you wouldn't be there on the other side to greet him. What was the point of a life if your future, the happiness, the children you could have had if all of this was behind you, if you were gone forever.

Plutarch begins to say something, but Finnick raises his hand as if to indicate he can't listen or speak right now. He's trying not to snap, not to take control of the ship so he can immediately perform his own rescue mission. Of course people were going to get hurt, even die, in the cause of the rebellion, but it was never supposed to be you. Why was he cursed to love someone who refused to patiently wait for him, who needed to be a part of the action? That's what had always been so magnetic about you though, the way you refused to fall into any constraints about how your life should be lived. Maybe, if you hadn't been left consumed by guilt after your first Games, you would've heard his plea and helped the rebellion from home, or he would've never told you about it at all to keep you safe. But that was wistful thinking, instead compassionate, worried, steadfast, beautiful you was in the grasp of the Capitol.

He decided he couldn't stay quiet any longer, he doesn't care if it's futile, what type of husband would leave his wife behind? For years you'd been fragile, like a bomb waiting to detonate, and he'd done whatever he could for you, he couldn't just give up on that now. You would have done it for him, you would have thrown yourself out of the hovercraft to save him, and knowing that hurt him and made him love you more. Finnick had spent years trying to prove to you that life was worth living even if you refused to admit that you felt that way, which in truth, caused him to grieve for the version of you from before the Games. The you that longed for a life that wasn't expected, to be lead by her heart and the wind, to be excited, until suddenly it was the you who didn't think she was worth being trusted, the you who stayed up wishing for death, and the you who wanted him, but felt guilty for it. Snow had taken that away from him, away from you, and now would take more from you. Finnick couldn't help but wonder how much was left to take, you had your compassion, your humor, your love, and if that was gone you'd be a husk of paranoia that he would desperately work to restore. Maybe death would have been kinder.

“Communications are down in seven, ten, and twelve. But eleven has control of transportation now, so there's hope of getting some food out." Plutarch says to Haymitch and Finnick can no longer be quiet.

"We have to go back.” His voice is hoarse, cracking with each syllable.

"I'm sorry, you know we can't do that. Her tracker was still in, they've definitely got her by now.” Plutarch tries to sound somewhat sympathetic, but it doesn't work.

“She's smart, she'll think of some way to pretend she knows less about the rebellion. If she can convince them of that, then she'll be used as bait.” Haymitch sounds so sure of himself, but Finnick isn't. You hadn't known too much, but not only were you willing to do anything if someone threatened him, you were like a glass sitting on the edge of the table, with one nudge you'd shatter.

Finnick starts shaking his head, “No, we have to-" Whatever plea he's started to make is interrupted as Katniss bangs through the door. 

“Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" Haymitch focuses on Katniss, “So it's you and your syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." He's chuckling slightly, but only Plutarch would also want to laugh right now. “Drop it." He's forced Katniss to get rid of the syringe and sits down by Finnick, who's been infested with thoughts about how if he hadn't let Haymitch convince him of putting Katniss and Peeta first, he could've focused on you. 

They're rambling an explanation of the rebellion to Katniss and Finnick is left once again wondering if he could hijack the ship. Snow probably wants him to, expects him too. You probably don't blame him, but Finnick knows your self-destructive ways. First, you'll try to find ways to end it all, and do nothing but mourn him, then you'll start to convince yourself maybe he left you on purpose, that you weren't stable or trustworthy enough to help with the rebellion, but you still wouldn't blame him, you'd tell yourself it's what you deserved. Finnick needed to be there to intercept the doubt before you ate yourself alive. Additionally, he didn't know how long he could last without you as an anchor, his sweet girl, refusing to acknowledge her own problems while trying to keep him afloat.

“I still don't understand why Peeta and I weren't let in on the plan." Katniss is saying, her voice just as broken as Finnick's had been.

“Because when the force field blew you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and, the less you knew, the better.” Haymitch explains.

"The first ones? Why?”

"For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive.” Finnick finally chimes in although he resents the words he's saying. He should've instead let you work your magic, try to convince someone to volunteer for him ahead of time, and stayed at home with you. If he stayed there was a higher chance you would too, yet maybe you would've gone over his head and decided you still couldn't live with yourself if you didn't volunteer.

"No, Johanna tried to kill me.” Katniss argues.

"Johanna knocked you out to take out the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you.” Haymitch is seemingly getting exhausted and annoyed from all the explanations he owes her.

“What? I don't know what you're-"

Plutarch interrupts her, “We have to save you because you're the Mockingjay, Katniss. While you live, the revolution lives."

More words are mumbled and Finnick's head buzzes, it wasn't worth fighting the revolution if he couldn't do it with you. There was no way he could stomach it without your help, there's no way you would admit to it, but you kept him from drowning.

The way Katniss hisses at Haymitch helps Finnick zone back in, “Where is Peeta?" She's finally caught on, that her survival is without the person she loves safety.

“He was picked up by the Capitol along with Johanna, Enobaria, and-" Finnick hits the table interrupting Haymitch's train of thought. No one can be outraged at him for long though because Katniss has launched herself at Haymitch, screaming, and scratching, he's screaming back and Finnick is forced to leap into action. Katniss is only doing what he so desperately has been holding back on, how dare these people not understand that you had to be saved too. Yet he's dragging her off, back to her bed, to be tied down, sedated.

“Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry. I wanted to save all of them, but I couldn't move." Finnick whispers, he doesn't know when he started crying, but he has. When the lighting hit the tree and Katniss' arrow had flown, the burst of electricity had left him helpless, frozen on the ground when he could hear you in the distance, screaming for him. “It's better for him, they'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they can use him against you.

“Does she know too much or will she be used as bait, Finnick?" Katniss' voice is hazy in the mess of the sedation, but it's clear she's not very empathetic with her statement.

Finnick lets the tears take over him, weeping for you, how he couldn't save you. “I wish she were dead." He quietly admits, probably echoing something you'd agree with. "I wish they were all dead and we were too. It would be best.” Katniss is far gone, but Finnick can't stand his own thoughts any longer. He's basically begging to be sedated until they let him, he wants for it to stop the thoughts, leave him in a world where he's still with you. Even if you haunt his dreams. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He knew of you, from school, from the similar social scenes, and you were well liked enough, but although he'd never admit it, Finnick Odair had never been confident enough to talk to you. Maybe it's because so many people spoke highly of you, but you'd never approached him. Shamefully he was a passive admirer, watching as you laughed at parties, nursed drunk friends, charmed customers at the markets. Maybe though he was scared that the person who everyone considered genuine would reject him as a person worth being around, see him the way he saw himself.

One sunny day in the market though he decided he had to take the step, see if were really the way people described you as, and possibly put to rest the infatuation he'd had for you. One that had really sparked when one of fair-weather friends, Beckett, had mentioned how you'd basically saved his life when he was drunk by a dock after another party. Kind, but brazen especially when Beckett tried to pay back the favor the next day by walking you home. Eventually the same night he told Finnick about you, he'd left to find you at the party and your magnetic company. You just seemed to draw people to you, a charm that Finnick couldn't resist much longer.

So there you were, flashing your tooth bearing smile to every potential customer. He'd talked to plenty of pretty girls before, but usually they introduced themselves to him, and the fact he barely existed to you certainly made you more intriguing. The moment the customer you were with was gone he forced himself up to your booth, one that was full of crates with huge crabs. 

“Most of what the Capitol serves is from here anyways, so it's certainly not a downgrade." Your sweet, peachy voice spoke first and Finnick was somewhat taken aback, unintentionally sending you a quizzical look. “The crabs." You smiled, probably wondering why he didn't pick that up the first time.

“Oh, yes, of course, the crabs." He feigned interest in one, picking it up.

“You know, if you're not here for the crabs you better say something before I start listing off facts." Finnick decided he wouldn't mind that, your voice soothed his ears, but more importantly he'd been given a piece of who you were.

“Who says I'm not here to talk about crabs?" His natural playfulness shined through any persona he was scared he would have to put on if you weren't like he'd been told about, observed. For less then a second there was a flash of what must have been embarrassment in your eyes that quickly subsided with a shrug of your shoulders.

“They're caught in the-" Finnick couldn't stop himself from laughing when you diligently started on your promised list.

“No, please, you'll bore me to death. Guilty as charged, I'm not here to talk about crabs." He put down the crab he'd been holding, hands in the air.

You leaned on the counter, hands propping up your face, “Okay then, what are you here to talk about, Mr. Odair?"

“Finnick." He said almost too quickly for his liking, “Just wanted to talk to you." It was cocky the way he said it, but he couldn't help himself when you seemed so ready to bite back.

“Flattered, Finnick." You paused, like you were waiting for him to say something, “I'm working."

“And I'm a customer."

“Are you planning on buying anything?" Your hands moved from your face to the counter top.

“Maybe." He shrugged, his usual smug smile making its appearance. 

You sighed like you were defeated, but your body language said otherwise. Maybe you'd wanted to talk to him just as much, but he'd been the one holding out on you. He'd like to think that even if it was presumptuous. “So, what does the Finnick Odair want to talk to me about?”

He didn't really know what he wanted to talk about, just that he wanted to talk to you. "The party, tomorrow night, are you coming?” It was a stupid question, you were at all of them, but much to his amusement you shrugged.

"Depends.”

"Depends on what?”

“Do you want me there?" You were bold and your aura exuded that even though if he stared deep enough into your eyes he could sense it hid other feelings.

“Are you flirting with me?" He clicked his tongue, head shaking as if it wasn't what he wanted.

“No."

“I don't believe you."

“Well it's your party, your house, I'm just asking permission." Your eyes widened, feigning innocence, and he decided you were nothing in short of perfect. Maybe he was just clouded because someone finally wasn't oooo’ing or ahhhh’ing at him. Or because he'd admired you from afar for so long that anything you said would be enough to draw him in. He also didn't really care because he'd made up his mind about liking your presence, more than that off any of his fickle friends.

“You've never asked permission before." The look on your face told him he'd caught you, that was your brain racking for a response before your face could slip back into its soft smile.

“You've never talked to me before." Maybe your words were even, but the way you fiddled with your necklace spoke measures to him.

“So you just show up at the houses of men you've never talked too?" Finnick teased, but he knew you'd always had plenty of invites from other people unlike the crazy fans who'd try to push their way into his home. Regardless, the parties were a way for him to keep up Capitol appearances and drown out his sorrows, so extra guests with actual connections to his social group hardly bothered him.

“If you wanted to talk to tell me it feels like I'm intruding, then you can just come out and say it. I get it and I won't go." You maintained a somewhat playful sound, but were so genuine it shocked him. So willing to give up your entire social scene if it made him slightly uncomfortable.

“No, I do want you there." He felt like he said it much too quickly, but he didn't regret it when your smile widened.

“Okay." You bit your bottom lip when another presence was ducking into the booth beside you. The local healer who whispered something to you. “You know you can have as many as you want for it, we can't thank you enough." You said earnestly. He handed you a couple of bottles of some type of medicine that you shoved into a netted bag before grabbing him a smaller box.

“Four or five?" The man said quietly and you filled the box with crabs before handing it to him. “Thank you, now you tell your mom I wished her the best and let me know how she's doing."

“Will do." You smiled as the man scurried off. “Sorry about that." Your attention was back on Finnick.

“Is your mom not well?" It was an obvious question but he wanted to show he cared, you just waved your hand in dismissal.

“She's okay, don't worry about it." So he respected the fact you didn't feel like opening up about it and moved onto playful banter again. “If you want me there and already knew I'd be there, why are you talking to me now?" You led the conversation back and it was obvious to him that it was a sore subject, perhaps you were one of those people who didn't like to trouble others with their problems. 

“I can't talk to a pretty girl?” 

"You talk to pretty girls all the time, Finnick Odair, and you've never talked to me before.” Your hands settled back up to support your face. 

He leaned in closer, “Don't tell anyone, but maybe I needed to hype myself up before I talked to the prettiest one." Your laugh was addictive and he wished he could've seen more of how your face scrunched up when you buried it in your hands. 

“God, you're treacherous." One of your hands decided to nervously play with an earring and the other went back to the necklace. “I bet that's what you tell all the pretty girls." Finnick's ears were blessed with another nervous laugh.

“Just you." He winked, grateful that he'd found an easy rhythm in talking to you. You were teasable, but would bite back, for the first time in a while he was glad he trusted his observations.

“You know flirting with the girl at the market to get free food only works for people not famous all across Panem."

“Good thing that's not why I'm flirting with the girl at the market then." 

Your face was once again buried in your hands with a giggle, "You're dreadful. Is this how you usually entrap a girl, don't speak to her, and then it's all sweet talk?” 

Finnick wished he could say it's because seeing you around gave him unexplainable butterflies deep within his stomach, but that wasn't a very suave explanation. “I had to make sure you didn't have a boyfriend first.” His voice was low and he could tell it was giving you goosebumps, or maybe you were just cold in your sundress.

"Oh, you're bold." You guffawed, “Besides you already have a hole in your story, there isn't a single person anyone would think I'm dating.”

"That's a bold-faced lie, sweet girl, most people think you do since he's always trailing around like a lost puppy.” If he was lucky you would melt at the pet name and you somewhat did before you scoffed.

"Who?" You didn't seem like the oblivious type, but so earnestly confused.

Finnick's eyes dragged over to a nearby booth where the subject stood, sulking and your eyes followed, “Looks like he might attack."

“Conway?" You shook your head so earnestly it made Finnick feel like he could blush from how ardently you wanted him to know you weren't taken. “No, no, no, no! God, no, he's just my friend. We're friends.”

"Have you told him that?” He smirked.

You were so cute, when you were biting back, when you were nervous, when you were embarrassed, he didn't know how a person could manage to be so adorable all the time. “Yes, he knows that, he's just, well he's just Conway. It's just a phase, he'll grow out of it." You rubbed your neck as a much more forced laugh escaped those perfect lips.

“Hopefully, looks like he's coming over to rip my throat out. Please come to my funeral, front row, no roses on the coffin, lilies preferably." Finnick pulled a faux terrified face as he clasped his hands together with his plea, successfully turning your laugh into a much more genuine one.

“Hi, Princess." Conway approached the booth and Finnick wondered how you could ever think he was getting over you. Behind the brunette's back he shot you a look, teasing you for as much which you seemed to instantly understand as you bit your lip with a shrug.

"Hey, Conway. You guys finished up?" You asked, that dazzling smile on your face.

“Yeah, mom was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight? Nixie and Delta had something they were excited to show you.” 

“Yes of course! Tell them I have something for them too, and I'll meet you guys after I've dropped everything off at home."

“I'll walk you."

“I'm gonna walk her home." Finnick seized the opportunity, even if you said you were just friends he couldn't let himself lose the build up he was working for. Conway looked at him like he'd forgotten he was there and was angered to have remembered. “If you want me to, do you want me to?" Finnick looked back at you and you genuinely had a look of complete confusion.

"I always walk you home.” Conway said softly and Finnick wished he felt worse for interfering with another person's love, but he couldn't help that he felt a spark just by looking at you and fireworks in your presence.

"You wanna walk me home?” Your eyes were glued on Finnick, like you thought he'd just been bored and was going to leave after finding his enjoyment in flirting with you. He wanted to get inside your head, see why you were so vulnerable, prove to you that you deserved to feel better about yourself.

"Of course I do, sweet girl.” His voice was less focused on being charming and so earnest it rewarded him with the happiest, biggest smile he'd gotten out of you.

“I'll walk you home after dinner though, that way you're not walking home alone in the dark." Conway inserted himself once again and after a pause you shook yourself out of whatever haze you were in to turn to him.

“Thank you so much, you're so kind, Conway. Either way I still have to wait until everything closes or I sell out, so it could be a while."

“Oh, mom sent me over to buy the last half crate for dinner tomorrow,we've got some extra wiggle room, and we're all tired of trout and crawfish all the time. So a little something special until I'm sure we'll all get tired of the leftovers. Do you want to come tomorrow too?" He pulled out the money from his pocket to slip into your hand.

“Lucky you, I hope you all enjoy it!" You took the money to put into the small metal box where you must have been storing the cash. “I've got plans tomorrow or else I definitely would." You picked up a box to move the crabs into.

“Is there a party? You should've told me, mom won't want me to miss tomorrow and you'll have no one with you."

“Conway, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't need to be watched over. I'm perfectly capable of myself." You handed him the crate, “Besides you hate going to them and I don't want to drag you to one just for you to mope in the corner."

“And I'll be there anyways." Finnick raised his hand as if to remind everyone he was still there and you did seem to soften when you looked at him.

“Yeah, Finnick, will be there. I'll be fine!" 

Conway took a step closer to you as he filled his box, trying to whisper, but it wasn't hard for Finnick to eavesdrop. "You barely know him.” 

You glared back at Conway and mouthed a ‘Stop it!" The much taller man seemed to reluctantly relent as he stepped away. “I just have to close everything up then, and I'll be ready to go." You look back at Finnick who nods and smiles.

“Let me help you."

“Oh no, you don't have to do that!" You quickly assure.

"Angel, I want to.” You seem to respond well to that pet name as well whereas Conway is instantly glaring into Finnick's head. He doesn't mean to be cocky, but Finnick can't resist a cocky shrug to the other man the moment you're going to retrieve your bag and the little metal container of money to shove into it. Finnick’s nimble fingers are quickly undoing the ropes holding the top up.

You exit the structure and walk up to him, “How'd you do that so fast, the knots always take me forever to undo."

Finnick can't hide his amusement with your awe,"Always been good with knots, I could show you sometime.” 

You're nodding in agreement when suddenly your mouth is agape and you're playfully shoving him, “Finnick Odair, I hardly know you!"

“That's not what I meant, honestly!" He defends, laughing, and he's being truthful. It hadn't crossed his mind when he said it, he would love to show you how to tie a rope, he'd always found it calming. “Says a lot that your mind jumped to that though." He tilts his head and the way your eyes widen makes him wish he could feel how hot your face must be by now. 

“You do barely know him." Conway mutters and Finnick wishes he would disappear.

You seem to regain your composure and point to the left, “I'm about 30 minutes that way, so you really don't have to walk me home if you don't want to, it's long."

“Stop worrying about me, I'm certain I want to walk you home."

You're nodding softly and biting your bottom lip, "Okay.” Swiftly you're leading the way, both men trailing behind and Finnick is annoyed that Conway is still sticking around, before he realizes his family's booth is in that direction. Suddenly you're stopping before basically leaping towards a booth, a fruit booth Finnick recognizes. “Douglas, you have peaches! Why didn't you say anything?"

The older man chuckles and gives you a knowing look, “Because you can't afford them and will barter me for them."

You gasp in mock offense, “So rude and after all this time too, Mrs. Damaris would be astounded by your behavior.” 

"You know if you sneak me a couple of crabs tomorrow I'd give you a whole bag.” 

"Your father would be angry-” Conway begins some sort of lecture when you're snapping at him like you'd also like to be rid of his presence.

"I know, Conway.” The look you shoot at him could kill, and Finnick feels a weird sense of elation knowing you're more peeved that Conway won't let you be alone with Finnick. 

“Then I'm sorry, sweetheart, nothing's going to work on me this time. I've prepared myself."

Finnick is already pulling out his money, “It's okay, I've got it."

“No." Your resistance shocks him, he's used to people begging to be around his wealth and to charm you he's more than willing to she'll it out. “You're not buying things for me, Finnick. I'm serious." He says nothing, but doesn't return his money back to his pocket. 

“Come on, princess, you'll live without one." Conway manages to still sound so kind and you purse your lips, refusing to satisfy the man you feel pestered by with a response. Finnick is busy trying to silently communicate with the vendor that whatever you try to barter he'll give him the money right after.

“My ring?" You hold up your hand, waving the finger around and the older man shakes his head.

“I can't accept every piece of jewelry you find on the beach."

You sigh dramatically and Finnick thinks he's finally been able to indicate to the vendor. “Mrs. Damaris would love this necklace, look it's got an actual ruby in it and I didn't find it. Someone gave it to me, it's worth a lot more than a peach and I only want one.” The man reluctantly exhales, glasses at the end of his nose, “Please Douglas, we barely ever get them here.” Your pout has to make you even more adorable and Finnick wonders how you can be so perfect.

“Fine!" The man grumbles with a sly smile and Finnick can tell the man would've taken the necklace even without the money he was about to give.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You gush as your fingers rush, struggling as you unclasp the necklace. Putting the necklace on the counter as the man hums. You take your time picking out the perfect peach before grabbing one, “I love you so much, Douglas, Mrs. Damaris is a lucky woman!" You began to walk off.

Douglas nods, “Sure she is, take care of yourself and bring some actual money next time." The moment your back is turned Finnick is putting the money on the table, with a little extra.

“Thank you." He mouths with a smile, grabbing the necklace.

“No, thank you. I've got no use for the necklace, or anything else she's given." The old man is shaking his head with a smile, grabbing the money. “You take care."

Finnick nods, catching up to you where he can hear another tense conversation between you and Conway. “God Conway, it doesn't matter. Tallulah gets me a gift every time I take care of her during a hangover because she feels bad, it doesn't matter. Yes it was pretty and I really liked it, but I'll tell her it fell off in the ocean and she'll buy me a new one.”

"You're just so careless sometimes, it's a fruit.” Conway shakes his head in disbelief.

"And it's just a necklace, what's your problem? It's not even from you, and it's not a big deal. I liked it, I'll probably miss it, but I might not have a peach for another year and Tallulah will have given me another gift by the end of the week for the hangover she'll definitely have from tomorrow night.”

"She's not a bank for you, and that trade was so uneven.”

"Why are you trying to make me feel guilty? That's not how I see her, I've been her friend for years and it's just how we work! You're being so weird about this and it's none of your business. I don't take her money, or ask for it, or let her pay for things, she just gives me them when I help her out!” Finnick finds himself being enraged at Conway for the way your voice shakes as you defend yourself, for the way he's making you seem selfish when you adamantly refused to let Finnick buy you something as small as a piece of fruit.

Finnick is suddenly standing beside you holding up the little heart necklace, it swinging in front of your face. You stop dead in your tracks, “Finnick." Your voice is so soft it makes him want to melt, "You don't even know me, Finnick. I don't need you to buy things for me, you don't have to do that. I traded it for a reason, go give it back.”

"He's much happier with the money, anyways, sweet girl. I have enough money to drown in, you're hardly breaking the bank with a peach. And I know you enough to want to do that for you. Can't a man buy things for a pretty girl?” You look like you might cry, but you don't allow yourself too and Finnick comes to the conclusion that you're not used to being helped, to have someone willing to just do things for you without some sort of transaction involved, and he's intent on changing that. "Red looks good on you, angel, let me put it back on you.” You're playing with your earrings as you finally slowly turn to let him clasp the necklace on. He adored the way you shiver when his fingers brush against your neck as he puts it on and the way you seem to miss his touch the moment it's gone. It's like fate designed the two of you to meet each other, to be perfect for one another and he's only just forced himself to talk to you.

He also gets a sick pleasure from how vexed it makes the other man vying for your affections. Within a few more steps you've arrived at the Delmare family booth and they're ecstatic to see you before they've calmed down. “I'll see you tonight?" Conway asks.

“Yes, of course." You offer a smile even though Finnick can tell you're still seething underneath and Conway nods somewhat sadly. You turn you back to him as keep walking, “So are you-"

“Yes, I'm sure I want to walk you home!" Finnick interrupts with a laugh and you accept the answer and finally begin to eat your peach.  “Let me take your bag." He offers, hand reaching for it.

"It's okay I've got it.” You must have decided you're able to slip back into your normal playful tone, and he curses Conway in his mind for making you anxious enough to ever stop in the first place, “I know you must be used to women throwing themselves at your feet, but we are in fact strong enough to carry our own bags."

“You have an indent in your shoulder from it." He remarks, with what he's sure must be an infuriatingly smug smirk. You don't look at him as you seem to reason in your head that it is quite heavy and slowly pry it off your shoulder. He's grabbing it from your hand before you're even reaching out and although it's nothing for him, he's surprised by the weight. “Good thing I want to carry your bag even if you're a woman throwing yourself at my feet." He clicks his tongue as the two of you stroll down the cobblestone street.

You elbow him softly, “I'd say you're throwing yourself at mine." 

“I'd agree and say I'm glad I am." 

“Finnick." Your voice is suddenly much more serious.

“Yes, angel?"

“Seriously, why are you talking to me?" He assumes you must be trying to protect yourself and it hurts him to think you'd ever imagine that his intentions were anything less than true. 

“Because I like you."

You laugh so delicately it could be carried into the breeze, “No you don't! We've never talked before, I mean you don't really know me at all."

“So you don't like me?" He teases, a glimmer in his eyes.

“No, I do, I mean, I just, that's different." You stutter through it, hands moving as you speak.

“How's it different?"

“Because you're you, you're Finnick Odair, everyone likes you and if they don't they're stupid. And I'm just, I mean I'm just some girl, who you've been trying to fluster."

“People talk about you too, I see you around, listen to you, what you say, what people say about you, and I've decided that I like you. And I think that if you didn't want to be flustered, you'd tell me. That's it, that's the explanation, and I'm talking to you so I can really know you.”

There's a silence where you must be deciding if you're satisfied with his answer, "What do you want to know about me?” The walk to your house seems to go by too fast with the stories and banter, the way you sass him back and then get ruffled when he makes flirty remarks before you make them back, and the way you savor each bite of that peach like you'll never have one again, which he'll make sure you will. He's already mourning your company when you're walking up to the door, “This is me, I know, it's not much to look at." It's a dilapidated little house, cracked, white brick and he can tell it used to be nice. You're slowly walking up to the door and he hopes you feel the same way he does.

"Go out with me tomorrow.” Finnick says abruptly.

"What?” You turn to him, trying to not act as giddy as he can tell you are.

"Tomorrow, just you and me, an actual date. It's a Sunday, so the market will be closed. We can picnic by the water, there's a lovely, private piece of beach in Victor's Village and we'll swim, we can do whatever else you want too.” He tries to sound nonchalant as he runs his hands through his hair.

"Okay.” You nodded, fingers running up and down the chain on your necklace. "Yes, I'd like that.”

"Okay, good, that's good.” He doesn't mean to seem desperate for your time, but he is. “I can be here at noon? I'll walk you." 

“Yeah." You muttered, by now you're both standing at your front door. Staring at him and he prays you'll never go inside and just stand here with him. “My bag."

“Sorry, yes, your bag!" He pulls it off his shoulder and feels more embarrassed than he ought to be, “Sorry!" But you just laugh it off as he hands it to you. 

"It's okay.” You're back is to the door, slowly pushing the handle. He wants to kiss you, but he's already moving so fast with everything else, he figures that he better let you have something to wait for even if it's disappointing to you know, it disappoints him too.

"I'll see you tomorrow, at 12.” He reiterates, feeling like a magnet being pushed away from his other half as he steps away, ready to fly back forward.

You do look somewhat let down as he moves away, but he has to be resilient,"Thank you, Finnick! Have a good night.”

"Have a good night, sweet girl!” He flashes his Panem adored smile and forces himself to turn his back towards you. Finnick decides he's glad he listened to the caverns of his soul when they called him to you. He can't help himself from being so forward with you when he's already so sure, like he's been with no one before, that you must be meant to be and he's running back to the marketplace praying that Douglas hadn't yet closed down shop.

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Doctors occasionally hover above him and the ceiling is white, which is all he knows when he's in his sedated state. Sometimes they let him be without, but he can't process their questions, not when he's thinking of you which sometimes leads him back to being sedated when he starts lashing out at the nurses and doctors. Screaming, insisting you need to be saved. He's not sure when he asked, but at some point they give him a piece of rope which he diligently ties knots in to calm himself. It always seemed to work until he thought about how hard he tried to help you master different knots, but your hands would fumble. At some point he'd become sure that you did it on purpose so that his fingers would be by yours and his back pressed up against you, but he didn't care, it was heartwarming. Then he would fly into a fit again.

The same thing had happened when they'd brought him some type of dry oatmeal usually with a mix of berries that made it barely tolerable, once he could've sworn he caught a whiff of peaches in it that had him desperately trying to inhale the scent. Sobbing over the bowl until his nose was so stuffed he could no longer smell it, smell you and the sobbing became too uncontrollable. The doctors couldn't calm him down and he was once again sedated.

For weeks that's all his life was. Haunted by you, what could be happening to you, all the things he missed about you and trying to stay calm enough that he wasn't being restrained or returned to a cloudy state. Although the sedation sometimes brought back good memories he could dissociate into, other times all he could picture were all the things the Capitol, that Snow could be doing to you.

What if you were still being sold off like some kind of doll on top of what you were having to endure. And you'd have no one to comfort you at the end of the day which would drive you to insanity. Or he could picture you hypothermic on the floor. Or being taunted with jabberjays screaming in his voice. Or it could be a violent torture. He could picture thousands of unpleasant things that made him wish the rope was long enough to be a noose.

Sometimes he'd picture the last time he saw you, begging with him to not be upset when you parted ways with Katniss' insistence. Each time he thought about it he'd come to a different conclusion. Most of the time he blamed himself for letting you go, for not fighting harder to stay together or not tearing out your tracker right before you left even if it alerted someone of the plan. Sometimes he'd blame Katniss for forcing your hand in the first place, why couldn't she have just followed the plan that had been so carefully structured out. And on a rare occasion he blamed you for trying to follow the objective of keeping Katniss safe and leaving him, for not remembering to take out the tracker, for not keeping your promise. Which would then make him sick with himself for thinking anything slightly negative about your actions when you were probably enduring unbearable lengths of pain for him, for the rebellion. 

On the lucky occasion where he wasn't heavily sedated he'd been anxiously tying small knots into the rope when the television began playing some mandated report from the Capitol and there was Peeta. Proclaiming how he and Katniss knew nothing about the rebel plan, that Katniss had coincidentally shot her arrow into the dome when the lighting struck, and how there needed to be a ceasefire. Finnick wished he hadn't told you about the rebel plan, that you would just be bait, not someone trying to hide that they had some semblance of information regarding the rebel plan to get out of the arena. He'd signed your death warrant and delivered it straight into the Capitol's cold hands.

Finnick got swept up in his thoughts of what he could've done differently, how much he despised himself for not doing so when suddenly it was your voice on that television screen.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

so exited to start the river with you guys and to explore reader and finnick's past more. thank you all so much for the endless support and for continuing to read my little series, ily all. as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated, and my ask box plus request are open even if they take a hot second more me to get through. again endless thanks to you all and love you 💋

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[daisyjonesgf]

finnick odair x sweet & oblivious!partner hc's

based off this request

masterlist

finnick usually considered how sweet you were one of the most endearing things about you

except when it was towards certain people who didn't seem to understand it was just your way, being so sweet, in a tooth rotting way, that they assumed you must be flirting with them

additionally you always assumed they were doing the same back even if their flirting was egregiously overt

someone could wink and comment on how nicely your jeans fit, yet you'd assume it was genuine, smile, and thank them even tell them where you got the pair

finnick was constantly in your ear telling you that people were hitting on you, which you'd laugh off and deny

you'd try and make an effort to be more conscious of it when you could see how much it upset finnick that other people would act like you weren't with him

finnick of course never blamed you, it was just how kind you were that would draw everyone in

he adored the sweetness though

the way you'd dedicate lengths of time to find or make something he liked, spend hours with mags and annie to keep them in good company, the way you'd softly take care of him if he wasn't even slightly feeling well, when he was sad you'd cradle him, kiss him, say the loveliest things he imagined a person could no matter how cheesy

"you don't have to doubt us, finn, I'd stay with you past the time when everything's dust, I'm never going to let you go"

"you're my everything, the sea, the sun, the moon, the air, the wind, the grass, the dirt, it's like the angels decided we were meant to be."

"I think I'd be yours in every lifetime and you would be mine, we'd always find each other."

you'd call him handsome, say he was hand sculpted by angels, what a pretty boy he was, literally any time you had the chance

your kisses were so soft, hugs so warm, finnick felt like he genuinely could lay with you for eternity

you'd write him cheesy little poems that would have him blushing and kissing you until you were giggling and kicking your feet as he peppered you with kisses

finnick couldn't understand how someone as sugary sweet as you were could ever love someone as damaged, as ruined as he felt

but if you even saw a glimpse of those feelings you'd fall into pure prose of how worthy he was of love and you could pour buckets of it on him every day

even if he had enough money to buy a new closet for any piece of ripped clothing you'd insist on stitching things back together for him, it's what you parents had once done for each other so you adored doing it for finnick too

nsfw - finnick also was enthralled by the times your obliviousness came into clutch for him, he'd see how far he could go before you even realized what he was trying to do to you, all the comments he could make without you realizing the intentions, it was always adorable when you finally did manage to catch on

you'd bake him his favorite sweet treats, make breakfast and feel guilty if he ever didn't wake you up when he woke and ended up making it for both of you

finnick loved it and seeing the way you insisted on doing anything else to make up for it

finnick would move the heavens and the earth for you and all your kindness, he could never do enough for all the things your big heart would do for him and others

maybe you thought he was made by angels, but he was sure you were one, in the flesh, his own guardian angel intent on showering him in love

[daisyjonesgf]

call it what you want // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: finnick can't stop himself from an endless day of teasing leaving you frustrated with an itch only he can scratch

masterlist

warnings: pure filth, smut, porn without plot, endless teasing, oral (f and m receiving), frustration, finnick's kind of mean but also so sweet, degredation, use of the words whore and slut, grinding, desperate reader, just horny things everywhere, no use of y/n, unedited, I'm sorry, not tagging anyone bc it's just porn

2.7k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick Odair was the most insufferable, torturous man you knew. With his cocky tone, egotistical smirk, and the smug way he would endlessly tease you. It was like he planned to make you angry with desperation and he'd began the very morning when he'd walked into the bedroom after his early morning swim. Trailing sand and water all over the house which he knew would make you groan even if he always cleaned it up. You'd woken up with the sun and the sound of him walking into the bedroom, hardwood floors creaking. Even in your tired state you already knew that he was making a mess.

“Finnick, at least wipe off the sand with a towel when you get inside." Sleep still in your voice.

“But then I wouldn't get to listen to you complain every morning and where's the fun in that?" You wondered how his voice could already make you want to drown in it this early in the morning. Your eyes finally adjusted to see him, sun shining on the water droplets dripping down his chest, he looked like he was sculpted by the gods. Finnick stepped closer to the bed.

"Don't you dare, I don't feel like washing all the blankets today. I'll get up.” You cautioned, reluctantly moving the blankets off of you when he began crawling into the bed anyways, "Finnick!” You sighed, he was in one of his moods, the devilish kind.

“I'll wash them, honey, stop acting like you have to do anything. We both know all you have to do is be nearby, being a pretty girl for me." The way his words had you clenching around the air felt criminal, but you couldn't ponder on that for long when his lips were on yours. Filling your senses with the smell of the ocean, so comforting, so reminiscent of him. His mouth instantly took control and you followed eagerly, whining when he pulled away, pressing them to your neck.

"No marks, Finn.” You muttered out breathlessly as his hand wandered up to your breasts.

Yet you missed his warmth the moment he lifted his lips, “You sure, you don't want everyone to know you're my girl?" Everyone already knew that, but the way he said it was so convincing.

“No, I do." He rewarded you with his gorgeous, cocky smile.

“That's what I thought, sweet girl." His lips reattached to your neck, fingers pushing down the lacy top of your nightgown and you gasped when the cold air hit your nipples. Your brain was hazy again with the cold air and his hot lips attacking your neck. It was confusing when he pulled away and you hummed, puzzled by the sudden loss of content. “Gotta go take a shower, go get ready and I'll be quick, I'll make you breakfast." He pressed a fast, soft kiss to your lips and was gone in a split second. Leaving you leaning forward, disoriented and you weren't sure how long you sat there waiting to readjust from the bewilderment.

For a few hours he'd acted like nothing had happened, being his usual sweet, helpful self. He had you pick out a book to read to him as he cleaned up his mess of sand and water on the floor, cleaned the sheets and blankets, washed the dishes. All of his sweet acts had a way of making you forget what a menace he really was, it was hard to think negatively of a man who would brush your hair, make the bed, and do any other menial task for you. So initially you weren't too fazed when you'd gone to grab a cup and suddenly he was behind you to grab it for you.

“Thank you." You turned to face him and tried to ignore the heat taking over your body when his arms caged you to the counter, putting the glass down.

“Gotta take care of my sweet girl, don't I?" Finnick's lips were on yours again which would've been fine if he hadn't stepped closer, pushing you further into the counter. Hand holding the back of your head and another squeezing your ass which made you gasp into his mouth. You could feel him smiling at this before his tongue invaded your mouth. Then suddenly his hand was dropping lower, dangerously close to the hem of your dress. Instinctually you snapped your legs shut.

Finnick pulled away from your mouth just long enough to let out a “Tsk." As both of his hands fell to push your thighs apart.

“Finnick." Your eyebrows scrunched together, hips chasing forward. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning when his fingers grazed over your clothed core and then suddenly it was all gone. He'd pushed himself off the counter, away from you, had the cup in hand again and was filling it up with water. Jumbled thoughts trying to form a coherent protest.

“Drink up, honey, you're looking a little faint." He handed your somewhat shaky hand the water and touched your forehead in faux-concern, “You're burning up." You wondered how he could act like that when he had such a prominent bulge in his pants and decided you hated him for whatever game he was playing with you. Then without a word he was gone and you felt too wobbly to follow after him. Diligently drinking the cold water in hopes it would force your mind back into logical thoughts.

In his seemingly endless house you forced yourself into distracting tasks, cutting fresh flowers to arrange around the house, dusting your jewelry boxes, the small home library, anything to stop the idea you needed to find him and beg him for assistance. Occasionally you'd rub your thighs together, find yourself pushing your hips into the air and scold yourself for the lack of self-control. Frustrated with what he was doing to you without a care in the world. After you'd watered every plant, finished your book, and done every small thing you could think of you set it on yourself to search for him.

You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but the ache in your stomach needed him an unthinkable amount. Of course he was in the most obvious place, his little office, reading over something on his little loveseat. “Hi." You whispered when you tapped on the door.

He put down what he was holding instantly to look at you, nervous in his doorway, “Hi, pretty girl. What's wrong?" Finnick sounded so genuine, so sweet that you felt yourself falling apart like sugar in tea.

“Just missed you, Finn." Small, slow steps inside, looking around. You despised the way you were suddenly feeling so tiny, so helpless around him, but you loved the way you were able too.

“Spent all morning with you, honey." You almost felt guilty until you thought of the way he'd spent the morning torturing you.

“I know, m’sorry. Just so lonely.” You looked at the ground. Part of it was true, but also you wanted some part of him to pity you enough to stop you from tingling.

“Well I can't have you feeling like that, sweet girl, come here." You smiled when you rushed over to sit in his lap, legs wrapping around him. Of course he knew what you were doing and he prided himself for making you this nervous and desperate. Your face buried into his neck and he bucked forward so slightly you would've thought you missed it except it very much made your mouth fall open, fingernails digging into his arms. It felt like your inhibitions had left you when your body automatically responded by rubbing your clothed pussy on the rough materials of his pants. Surprisingly he let you, long enough that you were suppressing noises in his neck when he was picking you up with seemingly no effort. He glanced out the window, “I have to start dinner." He smiled and rose from the couch, leaving you, soaked, in his office.

You felt so teased that your brain couldn't form a rational train of thought. This was confirmed when you started crying in frustration, angry that he was doing this to you. You'd take anything, you were sure if he even touched you one more time it would get you off without him even being near the place that ached for him the most. The sun had gone down when you'd stopped your stream of tears, the sniffling, and mostly gotten over how embarrassed you were for rubbing yourself against him.

You toyed with your dress as you shamefully entered the kitchen, the lights overtaking you. “Was about to send a search party out for you, honey. Just finishing up though." He barely spared you a glance as he pulled two plates out of the cupboard.

You nodded, but said nothing as you sat at the table. Sticky thighs pressed together as you shifted in your seat uncomfortably. If Finnick noticed your odd silence he said nothing as he handed you your plate, "Thanks.” You were flooded with embarrassment for how shaky your voice was.

“Of course, always taking care of my girl." What a liar, you needed him more than you'd ever thought you had before and he'd done nothing but been endlessly cruel. A clock ticked in the silent room as you played with your fork. “Honey, you need to eat."

“I'm not hungry." You crossed your arms, seething with the way the sensation seemed to worsen just by looking at him. “Can't even think." You muttered, losing any semblance of respectability you thought you held as you buried your head in your hands.

"Why not?” He looked so mystified and you hated his act even more.

"You're being so mean to me, Finn.” You cried out, shaking your head, "It's not fair!”

"How am I being mean? I've been taking such good care of you, I always do.” You hummed a disagreement, shaking your head, looking up to pout. “So pathetic, honey, I take care of you, and you never use your words, then start throwing a fit at the dinner table." He clicked his tongue in disapproval, head shaking as he leaned back on his chair.

“No, I’ve been good! Haven't touched myself and you kept teasing.”

Finnick tilted his head like he was considering your words, a mocking pout reflecting yours. "You're right, good girls don't touch themselves. But good girls also don't start rubbing their pussy on me when I'm trying to check on them.”

You sob into your hands, "Please, Finnick, I really can't take anymore. It hurts and I've been trying so hard all day, I'm not trying to be bad, I promise.”

"Maybe you're not trying, but you're throwing a tantrum like a little brat. I would've given you what you wanted eventually, but you're so ungrateful.”

If he wanted a fit, you could throw a fit and part of you wanted to with how treacherous he was being. “I'm not ungrateful, you're just being so mean to me, ever since I woke up! You won't even let me suck you off." You crossed your arms again, hot with rage and need.

“Yes, I will. Come over here and help me out, thought you didn't even think about what you were doing to me." You hadn't really done anything, he'd started it, but you didn't argue when you instantly knelt down in front of him.

“I have, wanted your cock in my mouth all day, so badly, Finn." He groaned and you eagerly unzipped his pants.

"Then suck.” Finnick said exhaling and you kissed his tip, licking the pre-cum off of it. You kissed every inch of it you could, trying to hide the way your hips started to move. Just being able to do this was probably enough to help you unwind until he was tilting your face up. “Stop humping the air and be good for me." Before you could mumble out a sorry he'd let your lips right back to him. Instantly your wrapped them around him, part of you wanted to tease him just as he'd done to you all day. Starting slowly, cheeks hollowed as he moaned. He must have known you wanted revenge when his hands were in your hair. “God, I have to do everything." Roughly using your mouth, guiding you up and down as you gagged on his length. It didn't take long for him to come undone, for his string of curses and moans to lead to him filling your mouth. You swallowed every last bit of it before pulling away as his fingers loosened. “Your mouth is so good, honey, but that doesn't change the fact that I face fucked you, you didn't suck me off." He shook his head as he breathlessly admonished you.

Exhausted from trying to beg him you laid your head on his knee. “You didn't give me the time." You whispered, voice shaking. Your brain so foggy that you decided to accept defeat.

Finnick's fingers were suddenly much softer and so was his voice as he lead your face up, making you look at him. “Hey, of course I'm gonna take care of you, sweet girl, you didn't think I was gonna get you all worked up for so long and not leave you like this all night, did you? Just messing with you, don't think about what I was saying, you've been so good for me. So patient." You were crying in relief, forcing your face back into his knee. "Come on honey, let me take care of my needy girl.” He moved your head again, grabbing a hand to lift you as he stood from the chair. Guiding you to the bedroom. “Strip for me, sweet girl."

You mindlessly nodded to his instructions, sitting on the bed when you finished. “Thank you."

“How do you want me to help you out, honey?"

“Can I have your mouth please, Finn?" You muttered and he nodded.

“Of course you can, gonna make you feel so good." He pulled a pillow closer to your head, "Lay down for me.” You obeyed and he settled between your legs. Breath fanning on your core, making your buck your hips towards his face. "My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy, dripping for me. How long do you think it'll take?” He kissed your labia and you moaned so loudly it echoed in your head. “I think I've got you so ready that it'll be fast and if we're lucky you'll be seeing stars, won't you, sweet girl?"

“Please, Finn." You whined and suddenly he was devouring you. Face buried inside your cunt, your thighs started to close when his hands, in tune with your expected movements, held them open. “Oh my god, Finn, so good!" Your hands curled into the sheets, toes curling, bucking against his face. His nose rubbing against your sensitive clit as his tongue explored. You let your fingers wander up to his hair, tugging at the golden locks and nearly screaming when he moaned into you. It felt impossible that you were so worked up that you felt so close to unraveling already. “Keep going, so close!"

“Gonna cum all over my face, sweet girl? Wanna taste you." Finnick instantly was back on you, somehow with more intensity than before. He was right when you did come you could've sworn you saw stars, especially when he latched himself onto your clit the moment your orgasm started. Refusing to let up as you did in fact scream your way through it. You felt yourself hazily bucking away.

“Can't, Finn, s’too much." You whined and he chuckled.

“Just taste so good, honey, I'm just cleaning you up, okay?" You knew he was lying, that he'd stay like this until you were desperate to get away yet begging for more, and you nodded anyway. Accepting a different kind of defeat, you deserved it after the day he'd given you, at least that's what you told yourself when he dove right back into your core.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I rarely write smut, so I hope this is up to snuff, and I'm kinda nervous. But here y'all go, I was just feeling it tonight. Feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are all super appreciated and my ask box/requests are always open, I'm working on some requested headcannons right now! thank you for reading, love you all 💋

[daisyjonesgf]

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆:

𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕: ☾

𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇: ✿

𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕: ❥

𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖉𝖆𝖎𝖗

𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 1/2

☾✿

summary: finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷, 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝔂 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 (a sequel series)

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13

☾❥✿

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓮, 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓷𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓻𝔂, 𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓯𝓯, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮, 𝓷𝓸, 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧 ( the end of the trilogy) (on hiatus)

1/2/3/4/5/6

☾❥✿

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪, 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻? 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼? 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓱𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓶 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓭, 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝓮?

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗌

☾❥✿

summary: all blurbs and song analysis relating to finnick and his sweet girl in the midnight rain, the lakes, and the river universe

𝔬𝔫𝔢-𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰

𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 (requested)

✿

summary: after winning your games you're thrust into a new scene of capitol luxury and parties. in the midst of the gowns, and masquerade masks you meet someone who you instantly feel sparks go off for, victor finnick odair.

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓸 𝓘'𝓶 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓴, 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝔀𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓸 𝓘'𝓶 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓴, 𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

☾

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

𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭'𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 '𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩

❥

summary: finnick can't stop himself from an endless day of teasing leaving you frustrated with an itch only he can scratch

𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂'𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓘'𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝓽𝓸, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓱, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂'𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓳𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮, 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓮𝔀, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽, 𝓼𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓱, 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽

𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚 (requested)

✿ ❥

summary: you and finnick had never confessed your feelings, but after you've been rescued from the Capitol, you both realize it's time to talk about the unspoken

𝓘'𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬, 𝓘'𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰, 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰, 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮, 𝓸𝓱 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 (requested)

✿☾

summary: you and finnick are meant to be together even if neither of you noticed all the signs.

𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮. 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓼 𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮? 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴, 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵��𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮

☾

summary: finnick pushed himself away, isolated himself, and you're slipping through his fingers like sand.

𝓘 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝓭𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭? 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮? 𝓸𝓱, 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷? 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙖 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙚 (requested)

❥

summary: you and finnick have always had an irresistible pull towards one another

𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓷𝔂 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮, 𝓼𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓶𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓮

𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 (requested)

✿☾

summary: after you win your games you've become more closed off and untrusting, but hidden away in the corner of a Captiol party fate leads you straight to your soulmate.

𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓮'𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓾𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽, 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓫 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹 𝓲𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝔁𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓷 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓾𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 '𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘, 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼

𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇

✿☾

summary: the capitol has its way of digging its claws in so deep that you're no longer even sure where it ends and you being. finnick tries to reassure you, even though you struggle to let him in.

𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷, 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷. 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮, 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷. 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷, 𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷. 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓪𝓻𝓭, 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓴𝓲𝓭, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭

𝗂𝗏𝗒

✿☾

summary: you've loved finnick as long as you can remember, and he's loved you too, but he doesn't want the capitol to know that.

𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝓹𝓪𝓵 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓱, 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓵𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓮𝔃𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓱, 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓿𝔂 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘'𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭

𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎

✿☾

summary: you're so used to pushing everyone away to protect yourself that when someone really does try to know you, you can't help but push back, even if you slowly realize how good it feels to be seen, there's always a catch. a 10 things I hate about you college au.

𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝔂. 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵. 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓽, 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵.

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 ✿

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧!𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 (requested) ✿

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 ☾

finnick and black cat!partner ✿

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 (requested) ✿

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 (requested) ✿

𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔡𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔢

𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗌

☾❥✿

summary: all content relating to the billy dunne x muse universe

𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼. 𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼. 𝓲 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀, '𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮

𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌 & 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍

☾

summary: you know the cycle with billy, the heartbreak, and you love him too much to leave. and eddie makes it so much harder.

𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓿𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓮 '𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓿𝓪𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝔂𝓮𝓼, 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓭

songbird

☾✿

summary: your mood is down at a party when a girl decides to use the opportunity to remind you how little you really mean to billy dunne. although billy is quick to comfort you.

𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘'𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽. 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭. 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭. 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘'𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓽. 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮.

[daisyjonesgf]

the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared. 

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it. 

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact. 

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm. 

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

[daisyjonesgf]

I'm in such an angsty mood rn, like in a finnick odair pushing away from you because he's getting too much into his head, finnick spending more time out fishing and in the day markets which doesn't help the loneliness you're feeling since there's loads of pretty girls there dying for his attention and he's so polite, shining his smiles, his voice. which you're dying for when you can only make small talk, every routine feels so monotonous when he's so quiet with just a "how was your day?" you force yourself not to sob too loudly at night so you don't make him feel guilty. finnick who doesn't realize he's losing you until you've almost completely slipped through his fingers, like sand. finnick who realizes more and more when he's at the market and people ask if everything's okay since you're rarely seen and when you are your smile is sad, a little forelorn. finnick finally saying how you need to talk and you're terrified this has all been lead up to the end of your relationship, but he's honest with you about how he's been struggling, trying to cover, but it's too hard to push it down when you're so ready to work through them with him. finnick who does everything he can to make it up to you, feeling extra guilty when he goes to hug you and you melt away making him realize how long it's been since he hugged you. finnick with so many issues, but realizing he needs to work with you not against you.

[daisyjonesgf]

the river (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy series

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

6.1k words

warnings: angst, fluff, self-destructive behavior, finnick's bias now so you can see how they both view the other as the more broken one, mental health issues, allusions to suicide, allusions to trafficking and trauma surrounding it, the opposite of a slowburn it's giving their soulmates, mentions of death/torture/violence/brainwashing, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Seeing your face again could have sent Finnick into another frenzy, he'd been scared he'd forget it even though he thought about it every second of every day. But he couldn't do that, he needed to listen, hear your voice again. You had that smile plastered on your face that everyone could easily believe in, and had for years, except him. There was a mournful, numb look that would settle in the back of your eyes whenever you put on a performance, one that usually leads to dissociation. On top of that, you looked tired, the way you looked when after you'd won your Games and hadn't been able to escape the nightmares. 

Your voice was like music in his ears when you greeted Ceasar back, a tune that could soothe his soul if he wasn't so worried about you. It pained him to notice that in the midst of everything, of holding you captive, of the rebellion, they'd still managed to play dress up with you. Goosebumps covering your skin, the outfit barely covered any of you, you'd always run cold, and the Capitol seemed to know this. “So you're saying you knew nothing about the rebel plan?"

You shook your head emphatically, “No, I told you all how sure I was that I was never coming out of that arena. It was just as much of a shock to me." His clever, clever girl, trying so hard to play it safe.

“At the end you were screaming about forgetting something, what was that?" Caesar asked.

The tracker. The stupid tracker. "Finnick…" You trailed off, looking into the camera for a second like you were trying to reach out to him, “We had a special way of communicating with each other that comes with being together that long, I needed to find him, I still don't remember why.”

"So did he know about the rebel plan?”

Your foot was tapping slightly and Finnick prayed, for your sake, that no one else knew how anxious that indicated you were. “If he did, he didn't tell me." You looked at the camera again, addressing the citizens of the Capitol, "And I want everyone to know that if he did know anything, he would only do it if he thought it meant we could be together. He would never want this, the rebellion, the terror, both of us love all of you and Panem so much. His intentions would've been of love, not harm.” 

Finnick was so proud that your years of charisma for the Capitol was pulling through now. He felt like he was going to cry, the way you were defending him in the off chance that everything went wayward and he also ended up in Capitol clutches somehow. Maybe, if Snow really thought you knew nothing, he'd consider you more than just bait, maybe there'd be quite a few of these interviews left to boost morale for Capitol citizens. To see one of their favorite victors spewing out propaganda, it would also keep you alive longer, so out of all things that's what Finnick would place his hopes on. 

“Peeta called for a ceasefire, would you agree with this, that things should just be called off?” You glanced off camera, anxiously scratching at your arms.

"Yes, a ceasefire needs to be called.” Your smile reeked of discomfort and fear, and he was even more grateful that it was something only he knew how to sense from you. “The destruction being caused, the death, will get so much worse if this continues. No one wants that, this can all be sorted out. President Snow is merciful, but only if a ceasefire is called for.” It was sickening, the lies you were being forced to tout. Snow was anything but merciful, he'd probably throw the victors into the arena again, or just line them all up to be shot, or make death causing ‘accidents’ occur as soon as possible. Then you were crying and Finnick longed to hold you, to tell you it would be okay, to give any words of comfort he could. "I'm sorry, so much has happened recently.”

"Well us in the Capitol are glad to still have you with us." Finnick hated that they had you, that Caesar could still force you to perform for all of Panem and act like you're fine.

"I'm glad to be here with all of you too!” You mutter through tears and your signature, fake smile.

"Before we go, is there anything you want to say if the rebels are watching out there, if Finnick, your husband is watching out there?”

“He's not a rebel." You say quickly, with as much urgency as you can. Your eyes shut for a second and you're muttering to yourself, “He's my husband, he's not a rebel, not a rebel."

"Right, he's not a rebel.” Caesar says with what's supposed to be a comforting smile.

Your eyes open and you nod, wiping away stray tears, “And I'm just reminding everyone how badly we need a ceasefire, to stop all of this. To stop the suffering and all that could come.” Your smiling again, so forced it looks like it hurts and you're rubbing your necks until it's red, "Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire is important.” It's like you're chasing a thought you're being forced to remember.

“Yes, a ceasefire is important." Caesar nods, "Well a big thank you to the Capitol Princess for her message here today.” Your smile drops as you nod at the camera before it cuts and Finnick has been once again abandoned with his thoughts. 

What are they doing to you to convince you to say things you would never believe? How sweet you are for insisting upon his innocence anyway you can, he misses you more than home, the ocean, the feeling of fresh air in his lungs, the sun shining down on his face, he would happily live without it all if you could just be here, with him. You'd looked so exhausted and he misses being able to hold you, keep you warm so you could rest and feel safe when you did. He longs to see your genuine smile, the way your eyes would soften and the way your nose crinkled when you laughed.

A fantasy he can drive himself into before the anger can fall back into place, how he needs to hijack something so he can rescue you. He'd rage to President Coin herself if he could force her to do it, but they barely even let him out of the hospital wing. He's sobbing again, calloused hands trying to clear his face of the tears. Maybe they think he hasn't seen it, so they aren't worried about his reaction, they probably assume he's sleeping or focused on tying his knots, but it's just the eye of the hurricane. He can only stain the plain, scratchy sheets with his tears for so long before the hysteria will return. But for now he can mourn. He can hate himself, wish the rope was long enough to let him leave, and wish you could've both just chosen to be together in death. It would've been better then torture he's going through now. How there's not a second he can't focus on you, what he misses, what he dreads could be happening to you, the dreams of your future.

Dreams where you could be at home, surrounded by friends and family having the traditional District 4 wedding, sea shanty's and all. Where there was no fear that Snow would manipulate the games to force your children to be spectacles so you'd had children, as many as you wanted. Who you'd take to the beach, teach them about the animals, teach them to swim, and be the family he knows deep down you'd both have wished for. There'd been a glimpse where that was possible and then there'd been the impending doom that it wasn't. That instead it would be the wish he had when they told him you were dead.

Death. You. The idea that death could creep up with its slender hands and drag you away into the cavernous pit, that would leave him forever alone. He'd gratefully dig the claws of death into himself to bring you back or lay with you in the lowest parts of the cliffs forever. Death. You. Him. Freedom. Chains broken, no more threats, no more needs, just the end with you. 

Instead he needed to face the brazen winds to return you to his arms. You'd looked so cold and he missed being able to warm you, for you to cool him down. He had to get you back and the frenzy was back. Finnick was back on his feet, tearing himself from the bed, not giving a care to the things around him, if they fell to the floor it was something else out of his way. This commotion did alert the medics close by and Finnick was instantly trying to run by them.

“We have to save her, I need to save her!” He urged, but they were used to his antics. They'd long ago retrieved the manpower required to overpower him when he got like this. That didn't mean he still wouldn't fight, he still had the strength it took to shove most of them off, react violently when they got their hands on him, and struggle when eventually a larger group had their arms on him, ready to sedate once again. Maybe that was a good thing though, it allowed him to fully focus all of his thoughts on you and everything you two had. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He was early, but he didn't care, well he kind of did when he paced by the cobblestones not far from your house wondering when he should knock. Wicker picnic basket being moved between each of his hands, careful not to hit the bouquet of flowers he was holding, as he anxiously counted down. Finnick knew he said noon, but did that mean five minutes before would be the right time to show up? 10 minutes? Exactly at noon? He wasn't used to feeling this anxious, he'd adopted a suave personality for Panem to gobble up that had become nearly effortless, but now he wanted desperately for you to ignore that and just be perfect.

The gift he had for you weighed heavy in the pocket of his shorts. He wanted to give it to you, he hoped you'd like it because he really wanted to see that smile that he'd daydreamed about again. He checked his watch, 13 minutes, and the worry was still there. Would you be scared off if you looked outside to see him waiting so early or would you find it sweet? What if you were inside anxiously waiting for him because you doubted it was real, because you wanted it to be genuine, and he reasoned from what he did know it was probably the correct assumption. You were too full of self-doubt, of an unspoken want to be seen, to be realized, and he wanted nothing more than to really comprehend each intricate detail that made you, you. 

‘Fuck it,’ He told himself when he made his way up the cracked cement, the grass and weeds peeking through. All the way up the two steps on your crickety porch, light blue paint peeling away to reveal the rotting chunks of wood. Slowly he tapped his knuckles on the wooden door, hoping the knocks didn't seem aggressive, but were enough to gain attention. Since when had he worried about the way his knocks were perceived? Only to gain a chance to perceive you.

The door creaked open and there you were, glowing in another beautiful sundress. “Hi!” Your smile was enough to wash away most of his anxieties even if your own voice seemed riddled with them, he despised the fact you felt anything less than sure of yourself, then sure of his interest in you. 

“Good morning, angel." Morning? Afternoon? Did he care which one was more accurate, did you? Finnick pulled on his dazzling smile, feeling like he was swept up by you.

He pulled the bouquet up, "Um, I got these for you.” You stared at them for what felt like an eternity and made him blush, scared he'd misread something,"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just-”

"They’re for me?” Features so soft it made his heart want to melt already, even the smile was so sweet and fond.

“Yeah, they're for you. These ones just reminded me of you." He wasn't about to say he'd spent hours at Mags this morning trying to pick the perfect flowers from her garden that he thought you would not only adore, but that gave off your very essence.

“They're perfect." You said in a soft amazement,"Really perfect.” Your fingers brush through them before you're ever so gently taking them from him,"Thank you.” 

Flowers were definitely a win, something that could rely on for you to adore. “Of course, sweet girl." You smiled as you smelled the flowers and he concluded that you didn't get many gifts, even one's as easy as that. He'd plant garden after garden to keep you smiling like that. You shut the door and it clicked behind you as you stepped towards him, porch creaking.

“Really, thank you, Finnick." To his surprise you hugged him and how cold you were was almost as shocking, you had such a warm, inviting aura that it was hard to imagine the icincess of your skin. Yet he melted into it, he'd always been so warm that it was nice to have something to contradict that, like when he went for his early morning swim. You smelled the peaches and the ocean, it was delightful and an aroma he'd always want to remember. He longed for your touch to return the moment you pulled away and suddenly he was just hot again. He must have stood there staring and longing for a while because your melodic voice stopped this, “So, are we planning on standing here all day?”

“No, no sorry!" He shook his head, breaking into a nervous chuckle as he tilted his head to the side. You laughed as you began walking down the rickety steps and he followed. “How was dinner?" Maybe he was jealous, he shouldn't be, there was really no good reason to be, but he was.

You looked at Finnick for a moment, confused, like it hadn't quite processed in your brain. “Oh, yes! It went well!"

“What'd his sisters have for you?" The fond look you gave him for remembering a small moment in a conversation made his heart swell and he swore he'd remember everything about you. 

“We like to try and find the prettiest things in the sand, seashells, sea glass, things like that and we all have little collections from each other. They're sweet."

“You're sweet."

“How would you know that, you don't know me." You said, fingers playing the flowers and trying to keep watch on the ground. The cobblestone was uneven, broken, crumbling apart and very just a tripping hazard.

“As you keep reminding me, it doesn't change the fact that you're sweet. ” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His free hand slides into his pocket, “Saw something else that reminded me of you." He pulls out a necklace, something a vendor had made of shining seashell fragments and the occasional pearl, but something about it just seemed so much like you.

“Finnick." Your steps halted and he did the same,"I don't need you to buy me things.” 

"I know, I want to buy you things.” The necklace dangled from his fingers, glistening in the rays of sun.

"But I don't have anything for you, so it's not-”

"You don't have to get me anything, I'm just spending time with you and I want to do it. Not because I feel obligated too, but because I like you.” Finnick reassured, this didn't have to be transactional, he just wanted to show you he paid attention, he cared. 

You closed your eyes and sighed before nodding, “Okay."

“Unless you don't like it, in which case you should tell me now for future reference.” 

“No, no, that's not what I mean, I mean I do, I just-"

“Need to get better at accepting gifts?" He finished, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed, “I'm good at accepting gifts!" There was a beat of silence where the two of you both stared at each other, him with his brow still arched quizzically, before the two of you burst into laughter. “Sorry, that's not true."

“I can tell!" When the laughter had somewhat subsided, he took another step towards you, lifting the necklace slightly, “Here, let me help you." He was thankful for another chance to let his fingers ‘accidentally’ brush against the skin of your neck and be cooled by it.

His nimble fingers secured the clasp, "This seems to keep happening to us.” You said, trying not to bristle when his warm hands did in fact make slight contact with yours.

"Maybe I'm just a mastermind.” His voice was so close to your ear as he gave himself an extra second of touch before forcing himself to step back.

"Or maybe you're full of yourself." You turned back around to face him before the two of you continued on the walk.

Finnick shrugged, “Two things can be true."

“Maybe not those two." He felt like a lost puppy dog who'd trail behind you, at your beck and call, every single time you spoke. It was terrifying, bone chilling, to think he'd become infatuated from afar and now it was like he'd been bewitched. As if your aura had its own siren song attached to allure his own in and he'd gladly crash his ship on the rocky shores for you. Yet the fear was combated with the fact that you, the core of you, was closer to the shine of the lighthouse, guiding him to safety. A thin line between destruction and refuge.

Banter has easily continued until he'd finally led you to the beach locked behind the gates of Victors Village, its view was truly breathtaking. He laid out the blanket on the warm sand, picnic basket on top, and you'd already been rid of your sandals. You stood, arms out as the breeze blew through your arms, inhaling the salty air and Finnick would've sworn you were some type of ethereal blessing gifted to the Earth from the ocean itself. Slowly he lifted the lid on the wicker basket, “Here." He said, holding up a peach.

You opened your eyes to look over and he could see the instant surprise on them as you sat down, “Finnick!" You didn't take it from him, just put your hands around it to draw it closer as you smelled it like you weren't sure it was real. “Oh my god!" You exclaimed when you caught a glimpse of the bag of peaches within the basket. 

“Thought it might convince you to not barter the necklace." He chuckled as if he hadn't been certain he'd buy the whole array of peaches to see you smile and hear your laugh, to see the spark in your eyes. 

You paused to touch the necklace, suddenly serious, “I wouldn't do that." Your eyes were so gorgeous, so addictive, so kind. The type of eyes he wanted to gaze into until everything else had faded away. Every piece of art, every sunset, every sunrise, every star’s beauty lessened in comparison. “Finnick Odair, you can't be real." That shining smile had returned and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps to give one back. “Seriously, you have to tell me what's wrong with you before I become too attached."

Finally you took the peach from his hand to bite into it, “Afraid I can't tell you yet, angel, scared you'd run away on me.” His tone was light enough to be a joke, but deep down he knew he'd never be able to tell you about the things that he felt the most self-loathing for, how self-destructive he could be would be something he'd try to keep you away from.

"Well you've already got me; hook, line, and sinker.” When you smiled and spoke, your nose would scrunch up in what he imagined was the most adorable thing possible. You stopped taking bites and quietly sat on the bed, observing him.

"No need to stare, I'm staying right here.” 

"Oh my god, I could kiss you.” He wasn't even sure if you'd processed the words as you stared at him longer before your brain finally seemed to register what you'd said. The look of shock had barely begun to pass your face when he decided he'd just kiss you instead. Perhaps it was all too fast, a day for him to be tasting the peach on your lips, for his fingers to be on your cold face besides the slight warmth on your cheeks. Whirlwind romances were either tragedy's or a fairytale, so time would have to tell, but maybe it should've been a sign. The ending could be uncertain as it liked, but he was sure your souls were yoked in the first ocean tides to bless the world.

His nostrils filled with the scent of peaches and the salt air you had meshed with how you tasted like the peaches, once again, and vanilla. So calming, like he was being softly rocked in the waters, nothing less than perfect. When he finally pulled away from you all he wanted to do was be enveloped by the taste once again. You looked so flustered and taken aback, it was so precious to him. “I beat you to it, this time." Cocky smirk even if he was slightly breathless.

You nodded at him slowly with your eyes wide, like all thoughts had been taken from your head. Finnick would've said something else if it weren't for the refreshing chill of your hands grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss. He'd never get sick of peaches when they reminded him so much of you, if he was ever to be away he'd spend his time learning endlessly about them just to feel near. Although it couldn't compare with the way your lips molded to his so easily. Then there were your hands in his hair, something he usually couldn't stand, but when it was your gentle hands he couldn't find it anything but endearing. Eventually you'd pulled away as well, chest heaving, yet it was like you couldn't say a thing. Faces and bodies mere inches from each other as you stared at each other, listening to each other breathe.

Suddenly you were quickly removing yourself from him, running forward in the sand. “Where are you going?" Finnick called after you, somewhat terrified he'd scared you off. But you turned back to him smiling like you hadn't a care in the world.

“Swimming!" You shed yourself of the sundress to be just left in the swimsuit you wore underneath, “Are you coming?" Now it was Finnick's to scramble up, chasing you towards the water.

You must have spent hours swimming, like there was no other world except the now. He'd swim under the water, scaring you when he'd pull at your ankle and you'd fight back by trying to dunk him under the moment he bobbed to the top. This was usually unsuccessful as he'd simply drag you down with him, except when he wanted you to feel like you had succeeded. He'd randomly lift you from the waters and you'd screech for him to put you down and once or twice he'd used it as an excuse to kiss you again. After hours of similar actions the sound of the waves hitting the shore was the only thing that could be heard as you both waded to stay afloat. 

Finnick stared out at the horizon, “I want to take you sailing when I get back."

“When you get back from what?" You asked, looking at him. Suddenly he was flooded with guilt, here he was dragging you along when he couldn't even be fully yours or honest about it. But he wanted to be with you so bad and for now that was all he had to cling onto.

It didn't mean he could look at you when he tried to explain it, so he looked down into the waters, “I'm supposed to leave for the Capitol tomorrow, just Victor related things.” He mumbled, shrugging off the mention.

"Oh, okay.” You didn't sound actually upset, "When will you be back?”

"A week at the most.” He peeked up at you through his eyelashes surprised to see you didn't look upset either, at most a little dejected that you wouldn't see him for so long.

"Well, we better have a killer party then to end all of this off, make sure you don't forget me.” You teased, raising your eyebrows.

"I could never forget about you… but you're not upset?"

You shot him a quizzical look, “Why would I be upset, we all have responsibilities, even if they come with different territory.” You shrugged and nearly fell backwards when he pressed his lips to yours again, steadying your back when you began to fall backwards. You had to be an angel who'd been sent to keep him sane and grace him, but a darker side of him urged him to realize he didn't deserve someone as understanding as you.

“You're so perfect." His arms held you and he looked at you with nothing less than amazement.

“I'm definitely not."

‘You’re perfect for me, we're perfect together,’ Finnick thought as he looked at you, water droplets running down your skin, breathing hard from all the excursions, eyes sparked with their usual twinkle and so many hidden thoughts he wanted to dive into. He accepted the conclusion that the only reason he would be feeling all this so fast would be because you were destined to be, all the stars had aligned for this moment, and the oceans had moved mountains to ensure this lifetime was no different. If you were Eurydice he had been your Orpheus, the Dante to your Beatrice, you would have been the Penelope to his Odysseus, regardless of any fate he knew there was never a life where you'd not been irrevocably bound together. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were going to be rescued, saved from the Capitol's grasps, and what had brought elation at first was quickly ruined when he learned that he couldn't help rescue you. He wasn't quite yet considered mentally stable enough for it, even if slowly he'd been able to mask it all better. Instead he had to stay in District 13 and do nothing but beg the universe to return you to him. Hadn't there been enough tragedy in your short lives? Hadn't there been enough tragedy in every other ending, in every other life? They should've let him brave death to bring you back, it would've settled him more then the torture of not knowing. Especially since he'd caught every airing you'd had from the Capitol which made him grateful that Katniss had wagered for your immunity. Snow had you begging for ceasefire, showing off outfits to parade, as if there wasn't a textile shortage, and it broke him when you seemed to be getting less sure of questions regarding him, regarding you. Then had been when Peeta announced the planned attack on District 13 and seeing you scream when he was violently attacked for the warning. A scream that would have forced Finnick to be sedated if it weren't for the more impending doom of the bombs. 

Katniss was filming a distraction propo about Peeta, how he'd saved her, loved her from the beginning. It was intimate, but apparently not enough for Plutarch who was calling Finnick over. Or maybe he's thought of something when Katniss mentions Snow's own admission of the Capitol's fragility.

“The Capitol is fragile, Snow is fragile, if we can manage to make a major blow to that, it could take their focus off of the prisoners. Force them to focus on damage control instead." Plutarch explains.

“And you want me to say something that could do that?” Finnick looks down at his rope, you'd never been able to master the butterfly knot, and he can imagine himself going over it again to try and teach you.

“If you have anything worth sharing." Of course everyone knows he does, among the elite, the powerful, the other victors it's just an open secret. “It could help us save her."

"But you don't have to open that up, there's no guarantee it'll do anything.” Haymitch argues, he's been forced into sobriety and has maintained his aggression. 

“I have something, more than one." Finnick finally says once he's completed his knot and Plutarch can't hide how pleased he is with this outcome. Finnick swears he can hear the blood draining from his face and the nausea rising in his stomach as each second passes, but he persists to stand in front of the cameras.

"You don't have to do this.” Haymitch reiterates.

"Yes I do, if it'll help her.” There's no other option, if the only thing that stopped you from being safely brought to District 13 was the lack of a good distraction, he'd find a way to get a longer rope. He undid the knot before balling it tightly in his hand, “I'm ready." Finnick says to the camera crew and he thinks of you. He turns off any physical sign of emotions he may have because he knows if he doesn't it would lead to another damaging spiral.

The cameras click on and he's given the all clear to begin, “President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is. I wasn't the only one.” Far from it, and Finnick wanted revenge for all of them, for him, for you, for Cashmere, for everyone Snow had forced into his scheme. "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” What had happened to Johanna, what he'd been terrified would happen to you when you'd first been together. “I wasn't the only one." He repeats and this time it really is for you, for how much he had to watch it break you. The nightmares, how long it took for you to accept any form of physical contact, how even years after it still affected your own intimacy with each other. They stole it all, your girlhood, most of your spark, whatever they could they ravaged from you like vultures on a corpse. Wasn't the prize of winning supposed to be life? “But I was the most popular. And perhaps the most defenseless because the people I loved were so defenseless." Finnick would never have mentioned this to you, but he'd begged Snow to give him more rather than give you any. The President had said you were too popular for none, but had given you less than what you could've had in exchange for even more of Finnick's time, his so-called uses. “To make themselves feel better my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets.”

That's why he was such a threat to Snow, he knew too much, he needed to be silenced, but he hadn't and now he could tell all of Panem each one. “And this is where you're going to want to stay tuned, President Snow because so very many of them were about you. But let's begin with some of the others.” And prominent name after name spewed off of his tongue. It felt like he was dropping chains off of his body to reveal them to the nation. Each one more heinous than the next, “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you really need to know. Poison." More names, victims of Snow's climb to power, the elite he trampled so he could trample the weak. Suddenly he's on fire, Finnick can't stop thinking about all the pain it caused you, about how it ruined his own childhood and life, how Johanna lost everyone she loved, how Cashmere worked so hard to protect her brother only for them both to be dead and he's so very detailed. Ensuring that it can't be swept under the rug and it's so harrowing that no one cuts the camera even when he's stopped speaking. There's too much shock, too much intensity, "Cut.” Finnick eventually intervenes.

Finally the stupor is over and people rush to air the footage, Plutarch is making endless comments that Finnick can't comprehend when he's so lost in his own head. Auto-pilot took control for most of the day, he tied knots until his fingers bled. You would've scolded him and bandaged them up, insisting it's why you didn't care for them even if you loved pouting for him to help you just so he could be so close by. Then he's got his arms wrapped around his knees, the day has been too slow, what if you were dead and he'd have no idea until they arrived and he would be at peak hope.

“Did you love her right away, Finnick?" Katniss' voice finally pulls him away from the endless myriad of thoughts.

“Not for the years when I knew of her and then I don't know what changed. She was just so herself in every way and I knew I wanted to just speak with her at least, but once I had a taste of it, yes. Like I'd been knocked over by a wave with it. For a while she didn't understand, but I didn't either, I just knew that there was no else for me." He feels like he's tearing up again when Haymitch rushes into the room.

“They're back. We’re wanted in the hospital. That's all I know." But Finnick feels like he can't move, he realizes he's scared of what you'll be like now. The Capitol had taken the you with her free-spirit and love of being in the moment and made her hate that she was able to breathe oxygen, which he'd so diligently worked to prove you were worthy of. Now they'd had you again, a version that was already hurt, untrusting, and self-destructive, and he couldn't imagine what they could have done to you now. Katniss is softly grabbing his hand to guide him upwards and he feels robotic. She guides him through the winding, gray hallways to the hospital wing. It's not until he can hear your screams that his brain clicks back into action. He has a responsibility to you, one of care, of love, of support in your weakest moments.

He's screaming your name as he runs from Katniss, searching for you desperately. Then he spots you on a hospital bed, pushing off the doctors trying to take care of you. Finnick needs to just be there with his soft words, let you know they're trying to help, so you'll stop. But that's not what happens when you hear his voice or see him. “Angel!" Your panicked screams become more shrill when you see him and in his confusion he steps closer, “It's just me." His voice is more broken then he wanted it to sound, more dejected.

“Get him away from me!" You're frenzied, scrambling to get out of the hospital bed or as far away in it as you can. The doctors are trying to reassure you as you scratch, and kick, and hit, and scream, begging for them to keep you safe from him. He feels the doctors trying to lead him away, hears Johanna laughing harshly in the background noise, but he's frozen. Your head is banging on the metal back of the bed which rattles. “Please, please.” You're sobbing and they're staying to sedate you, "He wants me dead, you don't get it, he's gonna kill me.” 

And Finnick is once again determined to get hands on a much longer rope. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so, so much for reading I am so sorry this took me so long! I hope you enjoyed it and as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated. my ask box is always open and currently so are requests which I'm working through! love you all and thank you again 💋

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[daisyjonesgf]

the river (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental illness, self-hate, suicid/l ideation, brainwashing, paranoia, mentions of trafficking, s/h in the form of scratching, breakups, no use of y/n, unedited, President Snow, threats, slightly mean!finnick towards conway

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick wanted to beg the doctors to see you, but he also was terrified of pushing you into another breakdown. So he'd settled for sitting outside the hospital room’s two-way glass at all times. He didn't sleep, he couldn't, nor eat so he just watched. At first you'd been sedated, but you were relatively calm if untrusting. Which was nothing, especially compared to Peeta who'd tried to kill Katniss. You were quiet, voice small and shaky except when your distrust took over.

A doctor had been trying to get you to swallow some pills with your water which you'd been adamantly refusing, “I don't know what it is."

“It's just a medicine to help fight off any infections you might have." The doctor explained and Finnick was grateful that she was more patient than the others. Yet you still looked uneasy, “We can go over what's in it and what it'll do if you want." The doctor suggested and you slowly, unsurely nodded. They'd showed you the bottle, read to you, and let you read the bottle information before you'd finally agreed to take it.

After hours of this Finnick couldn't help himself anymore, "I want to talk to her.” He abruptly stood from his chair and stared at the medical staff.

"She's calm right now, it might not be wise to do something that could disturb her.”

“Can't you just explain it to her somehow, I'll stay in a chair in the corner, won't move a muscle, you can handcuff me. I need to talk to her." There were sighs, hushed arguments before an agreement was eventually made. So, he stood outside waiting as the doctors tried to convince you to see him.

“Someone wants to see you now, if that's okay. He'll stay right in that chair, won't move at all, if you feel uncomfortable and you call out for us, okay?”

You looked at her, untrusting, "Who?”

She sighed and sat down on the hospital bed with you, she must have decided you were less of a threat and more someone who had to be communicated with. It hurt Finnick to know you'd let a doctor you'd never met so close, but were terrified of him. “You remember that you're married, right?"

“He wants me dead." It was like you couldn't get it off your tongue fast enough.

“No he doesn't." The doctor says, very decidedly and before you can get your next words out she insisted, “We'll all be right outside, so if he did want to kill you we wouldn't let him.”

You shook your head, “No, you wouldn't."

“Why do you think that?"

You laughed a little, “Because I'm a threat, you don't know what I did or didn't reveal, and everyone knows that I…” You trailed off. He couldn't grasp his head around the idea that you were still so attached to that perception of yourself, you did what you had to do, to stay alive.

"Coin granted all the victors rescued immunity. We've got no reason to want you dead.” Silence. You stared at her, she stared back at you. The words must have registered, but you seemed to be too deeply steeped in denial.

“I want to talk to Peeta.” The universe despised Finnick, he was sure of it.

"We can't let you do that.” She said softly.

"Why not?"

"He tried to kill Katniss Everdeen.”

You shook your head, "No, he wouldn't do that. They're just in his head, he'll remember.” The irony of it all, Peeta wanted Katniss dead, and you thought Finnick wanted you gone as well.

“Did they get in your head too?"

You laughed again, “No, no, they didn't."

“Then why do you think Finnick wants you dead?"

You take a deep breath in and sound frustrated, hands bunching up the thin hospital blanket, “They're not in my head! They just showed me what I wasn't paying attention to, I know what happened, and the things I've done. I'm not crazy.” Your voice shook like you were going to cry.

"No one here thinks you're crazy.” Finnick could tell there was more the doctor wanted to say, but was holding out in fear of you devolving. "He will sit in a chair the entire time and no one will let him any closer, I promise you."

Finnick prayed to whatever might have been that they'd let him have a moment, that he'd be able to help you. Your head was buried in your hands, “Okay." You finally muttered and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor smiled, giving an encouraging squeeze to your shoulder as she stood up. Pushing the only chair in the room up against the far wall before exiting. Finnick was anxiously messing with his piece of rope when the doctor finally approached him. “You've got the go ahead, but stay in the chair, no sudden movements, it might startle her enough to make her panic."

“I understand." Finnick nodded and the doctor waited a moment before she opened the door, letting him slowly walk into the bright, white room. And there you were, legs pulled up against your chest like it would give you some extra barrier. He wanted to hold you, to tell you it was all going to be okay, but Snow had even taken that away from him so he sat in the chair. “Hi, sweet girl." He gave a soft smile while you wearily observed him. You were silent though, "Do you know who I am, angel?” He knew you did, but just needed to hear you say something, anything to him.

Every so slowly you nodded, hands rubbing at your neck, "Finnick Odair.”

He hummed a yes,"Mhm, good job. Do you know what we are?” Finnick tilted his head slightly.

You nodded, but it was like the words were stuck in your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, “I care about you."

He nodded, “We care about each other. We got married, do you remember that?"

“People keep saying it." Stinging pain covered his chest, Snow had taken what was left of your trust, your happiest moments, and left you with the husk of anxiety. “I'm sorry, I can't, I don't know." You hit your head with the bottom of your and started crying.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, don't do that, it's alright!" He wanted to leap up, move your hands away, and have you in his arms. “You don't need to feel bad, angel, can you just tell me what you do know."

Your face became sober almost immediately, “You want to kill me."

“No." He said just as fast, “I'd never want that-"

“You don't have to lie to me, I understand. I can't be trusted, it's a smart move." Hands were back to rubbing your neck.

"What you did to survive all those years ago, when we were teenagers, doesn't mean you're not trustworthy. I trust you." He felt like he was going to cry, he was back at square one, when you'd returned from your games, but now you didn't even trust him.

You shook your head rapidly, “You're trying to get in my head!" There the tears were and his elbows landed on his knees so he could hide the fact his hands served to hide his cries. The world would've been a much kinder place if he was dead, if you were dead, if everyone could just die and stop this endless circle of torture. This was his inescapable boulder he kept pushing up the hill only to see it roll down over and over again, maybe if he'd died the first time around or even in the quarter quell the finality of death would bring peace. His eyes must have been bloodshot when he lifted them from his hands, only to grab the rope again. He needed more rationality to talk to you, this could help him ground himself because if had to live, it had to be with you.

“You used to teach me to tie ropes." You eventually muttered out, curse you and the way you were trying to say something to help him when he was at his weakest, even though you were convinced he wanted you dead.

He looked up from the knot and tried to smile appreciatively even if his eyes were still watery, “Yeah, I did.” He swallowed even though his mouth was completely dry, "I am. I am teaching you to tie ropes.”

You maintained eye contact with him for a while, like you were trying to read into the depths of his soul and he hoped you would find how genuine he was being. You leaned your head back onto the wall, “I could always do most of the knots after the first few times, but I liked it when you would keep helping me.”

"I know.” He missed it, all the times you'd grumble about the activity until he was right behind you, hands on yours where you'd suddenly seem a lot less aggravated. Then you were sobbing and he dug his hands into the chairs arms rests to force himself to stay seated. Not being able to touch you, help you on top of trying to convince you that he loved you was like his own personal hell, so perfectly built.

“See I couldn't even stop myself from lying about that." You choked out through the tears, the rubbing of your neck was turning into scratching.

“That was endearing, I could never hate you for something like that, I could never hate you." You didn't respond to that, the scratching was getting worse, “Sweet girl, you're gonna hurt yourself, you gotta stop." He pleaded, but you were too far gone, muttering things too low to hear under your breath. “God, I can't even help you." Finnick could feel another tear falling down his face, he couldn't grab your hands, breathe with you, keep you comforted, it was eating him up inside and out. So he did the only thing he could, call out for the doctors who quickly marched in to stop you. That's when the yelling that could print his ears with the cacophony of your agony for all of eternity, began. It was remarkable how many people it took to hold you down and get you sedated,

Finnick wished he'd savored every moment he could've had with you. There'd never been a point in leaving you the first time, you were bound to be dragged into the Games, he wasn't the fire that burned you. He could've stayed with you, had so many more moments to think about. Time with you was precious, delicate and he would do whatever it took to have you back

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were like heaven and he should have known that was something he wasn't worthy of. It was easy to forget that though when with each month he became more and more infatuated, it felt impossible to be as in love with someone as he was with you and so quickly. It just seemed like you understood each other, were so similar, but also filled the gaps for whatever the other lacked. He wanted to take you out every day and when he was feeling more impatient for your company he'd buy out the whole stock of crabs just so you could be off earlier. By the first month of going out he has noticed an interesting development in who Finnick considered to be the worst thorn in his side, Conway.

“Who's that?" Finnick had asked one day, tilting his head in the direction of Conway and a girl who he was with.

You smiled so brightly it made him want to live in a world where it was his sunshine, “Oh, that's Meena! They're going out now." Maybe that thorn was finally being removed.

"She looks just like you.” Finnick whispered slyly.

“She does not!" You rolled your eyes and glanced over at her, "I mean we have the same hair color. So maybe a little."

"And you're both similar heights, same face shape, I wonder if you both have the same eye color too.” You playfully hit his arm as a warning.

"It's better than him being single and moping around, it was kind of driving me insane how melancholy he was being.”

“Because he's madly in love with you." Finnick teased, hands on your waist.

“No, he's just got a crush because he won't talk to other girls. And now he's out of his shell.”

"Because he's madly in love with you and you picked me.” He smiled, leaning his face in closer.

"You're such a dick!” Yet you were smiling and your face was so close to his.

"No, I'm just saying how lucky I am.” You rolled your eyes again and Finnick used it as the perfect opportunity to kiss you which you instantly reciprocated. He was right about Conway and Meena of course, right after Finnick had broken your heart, he'd heard through the grapevine that they'd broken up. Conway was able to take his place back as having some sort of chance with you.

He'd miss the way you'd lay with your head on top of his chest at the beach, didn't stray away from being seen with him in any sense, if the Capitol cameras followed him around you would easily fall into keeping up his appearances for them, he should've been more cautious. When he was upset and couldn't tell you why, you'd hold him, rub his back, do anything to try and help. Which is why when Snow showed up at his house in Victor's Village he felt like any semblance of happiness was being torn away from his grasp.

“President Snow." He greeted, slowly walking inside of the room.

“Mr. Odair, the Capitol has missed you, so much in fact that I had to make this very disappointing visit.”

"I wasn't aware I was needed back so urgently, or else I would have come.” Usually he was notified of the visits, who wanted him now, and when.

"Of course you would've, but would you have been fully there?”

"I don't understand what you're talking about.”

"Your performance, to be enjoying their company, has been lackluster. People aren't convinced that you're, how shall we say it, emotionally present on top of everything else.” He wasn't, it was so much easier to check out of everything.

"I'm sorry.”

Snow hummed, "If people aren't convinced, they're dissatisfied, if they aren't satisfied then I'm dissatisfied, and we both know the outcomes of that.” Everyone he cared about dead, him lonely.

“Yes, I'll do better."

Snow's smile was so menacing, snake-like it sent shivers down Finnick's spike. “Good, we wouldn't want any complaints trickling down, would we?” He turned on a projection of something Finnick couldn't quite decipher. "She's very pretty, I'm sure no one would be pleased if the dissatisfaction continued.” Finnick felt numb all the way through, it was you, arms around him. How could he have been so stupid as to not think about you?

"It won't.” Finnick said quickly, voice choking involuntary.

"Oh good, I wouldn't want to have to get creative with it.” Snow rose from the chair, “The train will be here to pick you up in two days, Mr. Odair." Then the man who smelled of blood and roses was gone, abandoning Finnick with the feeling of lead in his stomach. He had to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, make you less of a target, shrink the one already on your back. He sunk into the chair he was closest to. Trying to remind himself to breathe as he tried to figure out how he was going to break your heart. How do you spend almost a year with someone, praising the ground they walk on and then suddenly leave them in the dust. He couldn't be cruel to you, not when you were so kind. The idea that you would put your walls up again and completely shut him out made his chest ache, a pain that threatened to tear him apart.

He'd have to give you up, condemn you to the life you didn't want to live. Watch as you lose the hope of something newer, something that wasn't expected and settled for the life everyone saw for you. Maybe that's why Conway made him want to be meaner, his blood boil, because deep down Finnick knew that if he didn't have you, Conway's persistence to love you would pay off. You'd stop being the girl who would barter for things she enjoyed if only for a moment, there would be no more fantasies of your soul finally feeling complete, the way you'd both felt together. To protect you, he'd have to put a damper on the dreams.

Finnick hated thinking about how he was supposed to see you that night, how he'd promised to meet you at the beach since you'd insisted you didn't care about the weather as long as you could see him. He'd have only as long as it took to shatter the hopes of being with each other to memorize you. Your smile, your laughter, your playful banter, the way your eyes twinkled, the smell of peaches and the sea, and tasted like peaches and vanilla. For the rest of time you'd only exist as moments he cherished in his brain, distance would be pivotal. No more escapes from your life to his lavish parties, that association would still be close enough to get you hurt, you'd have to be cut off from any droplets of the Fountain of Love he was to you.

He'd steadied himself when the clock had finally ticked to the time that told him to go to the beach, to his ending with you. Time to subject himself to a lifetime of acting for Panem and you to submit to fate. The fates that had decided you'd both had your run and needed to get back on the roads planned out for you. It was windy and cloudy over the ocean, like he was being mocked. He stood there, staring at the stormy horizon that lay ahead of him until you appeared.

“Hi!" The way you smiled like the sun made him think he couldn't do this to you, to himself. He solemnly nodded in response and your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, you were so beautiful. “What's wrong? Are you not feeling good, we can just go inside, I'll make soup." This was a torture method, how was he supposed to hurt someone who wanted to take care of him at the slightest sensing of upset.

"No, I feel fine.” He said it too sharply and it visibly took you aback. You'd both bickered before, only when someone directly caused it, and then you'd both get over it. Usually someone would do something to get you both to laugh it off, but he'd never been harsh with you.

You crossed your arms like they would provide some sort of defense, the walls were already being put up as far as Finnick was concerned. “Sorry." You stopped looking directly at him, eyes focused on the sand, he wanted to say ‘No, I'm sorry. You're so sweet and you look so pretty.’ To kiss you, your cheeks, your forehead, for his lips to memorize you. The silence was brisk and awkward until you'd felt forced to break it, “So, are we swimming?" He shook his head and it was hard to miss the way you scoffed, “Okay, um, do you just wanna sit and talk? We can do that." How were you still so considerate and sounded so soft, when you were so annoyed? Maybe the barrier wasn't around you, but him because you made no move to give a comforting touch like you usually would, like you weren't sure it would be received well. “Finnick, if you're gonna be in one of your moods and not let me help, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna go home."

“I'm breaking up with you." It spilled off of his lips in a way that made him want to burn them off. He watched the look in your eyes go from concerned annoyance to sad shock.

“What?" The way your voice became shakier made him want to give up on the whole endeavor, say it was some fucked up joke he was dared to do. “What do you mean?" A small nervous laugh forced itself from your throat.

Finnick took a deep breath in, “I can’t be with you anymore.”

"Can't? What does that mean?” It would've been easier if you just cried and ran off.

"It's just not working out.” He didn't want to lie, say it's how he felt or what he wanted, but he had to get you away from the ticking time bomb.

"For who?” You sounded exasperated.

"I can't explain it, I just have to do this, it's better for you, for both of us.” He pushed down the part of him that wanted to start bawling, begging you to refuse to let him go. "I have to protect you.”

To his surprise you didn't pester on that question more and he watched a tear escape from your glossy eyes, "Don't say that.” You shook your head, bringing your hands up to your face to catch the tears. “You can't break up with me and say stuff like that, it's mean." He was confused and it was evident, "It makes me love you so much more.” No, no, no, no you couldn't say stuff like that when he was supposed to rid himself of you. It wasn't fair.

His fingers ran through his tangled hair, "I'm sorry. I really am, but it means you can't be around at all anymore, anywhere. You need to be as far from me as you can be." You tilted your head upwards, towards the sky, closing your eyes as you exhaled. "Say you hate me."

“What?" You looked at him.

“Say you hate me, hit me, tell me to go fuck myself, something. Be angry with me." He could feel the tears escaping, they were supposed to do that.

“Finnick, I'm not going to do that." Then you were unclasping the necklace, the one that you'd work every day since he'd given it to, and it was in your hands instead of around your neck.

“What're you doing?"

“Letting myself know it's over." Then the necklace was in the ocean, floating away, like any hopes and dreams of being with you. The way you'd built your walls back up, stopped crying, blocked him out from your feelings, astonished him. You trusted him enough to take him at his word, that he needed to protect you, and listened. Distance in the mind as well as in person. “Finnick, take care of yourself." You sent him a small, sad smile and then it was like the wind had blown you away. Out of his grasp forever.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“She agreed to see you again." Finnick's head shot up, the doctors wouldn't let him stay in your room so he initially had planted himself in a chair outside. Eventually they'd just rolled in a hospital bed when they realized he wasn't going to be leaving. He'd spent every second diligently watching over you, making sure you were alright from afar. You'd been sedated most of the time since your breakdown before except when you ate and sat solemnly with your thoughts. “Same rules apply, don't get closer unless she asks, keep a calm, steady tone." Finnick nodded with the doctor's words waiting to be let in.

“I understand." The door clicked open and he was back in that chair across the room. “Hey, angel. Are you feeling better?" Your blanket was pulled up as far as you get it over your knee that was pulled up, holding your face up.

You slowly shook your head, “It's cold." And he couldn't be the heat to contrast that, he couldn't even rise to get you a blanket.

“I can ask them if they can make it warmer or at least get more blankets."

You nodded into your leg,"I'm so lonely, I know you want me dead, but I miss you so much and I'm not even sure why.”

Because you had to know deep down that he would move mountains to keep you safe, that all that had really come forward was from your own self hate. "Why don't we play a game.” You looked at him confused, "You ask me if something is real or not real when you're struggling to tell. Just those words and I'll help you figure it out, angel.”

"How am I supposed to know you'll tell me the truth?”

"You just have to trust me.” You observed him like you were waiting to see a crack in the facade, for a muscle to indicate his deceit. You leaned back in the bed, letting your leg rest.

"You hate me, real or not real.”

"Not real.” You stared at the white ceiling.

"Why not?” There was a beat of silence, "I'm perfectly deserving of it, so why not?”

"Anything you think you did that's worth hating yourself over was something that couldn't be helped, you're so sweet, I could never hate you just because your hand was forced when you were a teenager.” Your eyes shifted back down to look at him, “You don't have to believe me yet, there's a lot going on, but it's true. I love you more than the ocean loves the moon.”

"There's just so much going on in my head. I want to believe you so badly, but something in my head says I can't.” You covered your face to try and hide the fact you'd begun to cry. The things he would've given to kiss away your tears.

“That's okay, sweet girl, I have all the time in the world to prove to that voice otherwise." It was painful to stay seated, to know he had to regain all the privileges he'd once had.

You rubbed at your neck again which worried him to no end, “Can you come closer?”

Finnick wanted to jump up, but he couldn't. "Are you sure?” You nodded and he ever so slowly stood up. "How close?” He asked.

You took some deep breaths to calm yourself before you answered, "Over here."

“You're sure?"

Your breathing was shaky, “Yeah." He was terrified of scaring you away. So he approached cautiously to see if you'd eventually startle, but you didn't. Then he was standing right beside you and it was even harder now not to reach out. Ever so slowly you grabbed his hands, fingers tracing around his palms, each callous, and then you were trailing up to his face. He was confused, but didn't make a mention of it. Your fingers lead themselves around his face, rose with his nose, like they were memorizing each crevice of his face. He shuddered when he felt your touch, it had been so long and your cold hands soothed his hot skin. Then your touch was gone and he instantly missed it, longed for it back. “Thank you. I'm sorry."

“It's okay, sweet girl." You moved away from him and settled yourself laying down.

"Can you lay with me?” You whispered out.

"Of course, angel.” Underneath his facade he was ecstatic as he slid into the spot you'd left for him.

"Can you just keep your hands on top of you, so I can see them?” Your voice was so nervous.

"Absolutely.” His hands landed firmly on his stomach as he lay there with you.

Maybe now the long rope didn't seem as appealing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support! comments, feedback, reblogs, and likes are all super appreciated. my ask box and requests are open, I've got some I'm working on right now, love you all so much 💋

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[daisyjonesgf]

half return // finnick odair x reader

1.3k words

masterlist

summary: the capitol has its way of digging its claws in so deep that you're no longer even sure where it ends and you being. finnick tries to reassure you, even though you struggle to let him in.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, reader is an unreliable narrator, mentally unwell, and emotionally shut off, victor!reader, allusions to things doing with the games themselves, pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, unedited and short, just a treat so I can really get back into writing finnick

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Capitol had a way of taking everything for you. Where you were supposed to find comfort in being in your District, even after the years that had passed, it still didn’t feel like it had before. It was almost like a rebirth, but not in a way that felt refreshing. It was more like a baptism of sludge, it made you slow, and tired, like tearing your skin off your bones. That wasn’t the life you’d been promised. No, the Capitol made winning their Games seem so illustrious, so alluring, with a big house where the roof never caved, enough food for a while for everyone in your district to go without starving, and all the fame someone from a District could ever dream of having. All of that was true, but what was the cost? After all this time it still felt like your sanity had slipped down the drain, and you didn’t even know who you were anymore.

That’s exactly how you felt as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Letting the thoughts consume you as the feeling of zoning out of reality into the dissonance of your own thoughts made your face distort itself. Maybe, you thought, this distorted version of yourself was closer to who you really were inside than any picture. Those too closely resembled who you once were, who you were supposed to be. Oh, the things you would do to have that life back.

“Everything okay in here?” Finnick’s voice cut through your thoughts, broke the illusion of the mirror, and startled you back into the even sadder reality.

“Hmmm?” You glanced at him, eyes wide, like you hadn’t quite heard him, although the words really just hadn’t fully registered in your brain yet, “Yeah, everythings good, everything is fine.”

You offer a halfhearted smile that’s trying its best to be so real, he deserves real. You know that, after all he’s been through, all he’s done for you, even just for putting up with you, and yet the days creep in where you can’t give him that. All you can do is try and fake it until you make it. Almost like you’d had to do in the Games, but now it was to stop the attention. You didn’t need him anymore worried, scared about you spiralling, you were, but he didn’t need to know that. He deserved to have a partner, that’s what he signed up for, not to deal with another person’s emotional baggage and trauma. That’s at the very least the excuse you gave yourself in order to make lying about it feel okay.

“You’ve been brushing your teeth for at least 10 minutes.” He’s smirking, chuckling a little, pushing himself further into the bathroom from where he was leaning in the doorway.

“Just really getting in there. I really can’t help it if I have better dental hygiene then most, it’s just a burden I have to carry.” You look away, rubbing your neck, before adjusting your eyes back into the mirror. God, you’re a mess. Life is a mess. You used to dream of no longer being a child, of the freedom that would come with it, and now as you look in the mirror you resent younger you for that wish. Growing old has not been a blessing, and that makes the fact that you fought so hard for it even more tragic.

Finnick’s arms are around you, arm crossing your body, holding onto your other shoulder, he’s pulling you into him. Face pressed to yours, it’s meant to be comforting, and you hate to admit to yourself that it is. You want to push this down, not let him comfort you for it. “What’s going on?” His voice is so soothing, he smells like the ocean, and it draws you in. Yet you must resists in some capacity.

“Finnick-” You turn your face away and after a second you feel him start to pull away. You can hear him trying to suppress his sigh, feel the way his shoulders slightly slump, and suddenly your blood is running with guilt. He wants to be there for you, to help, you know that even if you want to shield yourself from that type of support. However, the idea of disappointing, of hurting the man you love by hiding those parts of yourself, makes the pit in your stomach so much heavier. You really can’t help but fold to him. “Come with me.” You’re turning your face back to his.

His eyebrows furrow together, “Where? What’re you talking about, sweetheart?” One of his thumbs is rubbing circles onto your skin that make you want to melt into him, to cry, but you haven’t let yourself cry in at least a year. You won’t let yourself start now.

“My house, my old house, I wanna go see it.”

If he was anyone else you would’ve expected him to say something about the fact you were both currently in your pajamas, or how late it was, but he’s Finnick, your Finnick, and so all he does for a second is look into your eyes as if he’s seeing into the depths of your soul that you desperately don’t want him to see. “Okay.” He nods, and is pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting you go. You can’t help but miss and crave his touch the moment it’s gone.

It’s even later into the night by the time you’ve both gotten dressed again and are leaving the gilded cage of Victors Village. You don’t care though. This is the first time you’ve let Finnick come with you on one of these escapades, usually you make them in the middle of the day anyways, but you’re letting him in on this little thing you do for yourself. The opening on who you were, what your life was before the Capitol came and sunk its teeth in, draining you of all that you used to be, all you thought you were. The two of you walk in silence, but it’s not one of awkwardness or stagnation, no, it’s just exactly what it needs to be. You can hear the ocean hitting the rocks and the shore, feel the wind, smell the salt air, and in the smallest amount it can it brings a sliver of unwanted comfort.

Then you’re there. The old, dilapidated house, roof caving in on itself, moss growing up its walls. No one has moved in since you and your family moved out of it, it’s like a reminder that one of the Victors came from it, what even the poorest citizen could come out of through the Games. In reality though, there was no point in buying a house like this, it was basically begging to crash in on itself, and then the owner would be paying more to repair the house then they’d spent to purchase it. So, here it sat. Dead lawn, broken fence, and a childhood’s worth of dreams.

“Every time I expect it to make me feel like me again or something, I know it’s stupid, but I just can’t help it. And everytime it does absolutely nothing, but I can’t stop coming back.” You’ve never told anyone that before, why you crawl back to the ruins of your childhood, of life before. Searching desperately for comfort, for understanding of who you are, only for it never to be found. “I just want it to tell me who I am.”

“It’s not stupid.” Finnick means what he says, so earnestly, and though you’ve told yourself you won’t cry. That you can’t let yourself do that anymore, something about that small reassurance has the tears slipping out once again, and once you’ve started you can’t stop. You’re trying to cover your face, hide it in the moonlight, suppress the way sobs make your body shake, but you can’t. Not from him, never from him. He’s holding you before you’ve even fully devolved. “Whatever you need to help you, you do. Okay? It doesn’t get any easier, I can’t lie to you about that, but if you really don’t think you know who you are, then just ask. I know exactly who you are, even if you think I don’t, I see every side of you."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Thank you so much for reading, sorry it's so short, kind of using this as a jumping off point to get back into writing Finnick fics. As always likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are much appreciated. Love you all so much 💋

[daisyjonesgf]

i know places // finnick odair x f.reader

request: Hiii, for the celebration could you do a soulmate au with Finnnick? Maybe after reader has won her games? Fluff pls but I don't mind some angst sprinkled in too. Thank you and I love your writing <3

masterlist

3k words

warnings: soulmate au, matching scars, closed off and guarded!reader, nearly instant love, attempted fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, self-destructive behavior, trust issues, lovesick finnick, cocky finnick, unreliable narrator reader, unedited, no use of y/n, no sight of a slowburn anywhere, mentions of blood/violence/death

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You didn't win with your charm. Before the games there was no popularity because of your interview with Caesar, the only semblance of any likeability was from your somewhat impressive training score, a 10. Regardless of what Panem wanted, your survival skills had come into clutch and brought you straight to the crown. A rare underdog winning the games. According to your mentor though the press had begun spinning you as meek when they'd realized you were in the top eight. You hadn't been the only tribute who tried it lone wolf and it conflicted with another story, so you were instead supposed to be quiet, gentle, and that's why you kept to yourself. Not because your district partner had attacked you night two, after claiming he would take watch, only for you to overtake him instead.

So now, post your victory they expected you to lean into the role, which didn't come naturally. Not when all you wanted to do was stop performing, scrub off your skin which still carried the weight of dirt and blood even if you'd taken plenty of showers since your return, and under the warm blankets of your bed. Maybe if you didn't feel so guilty and numb it would be easier to play at, but now everyone wanted a piece of you. You'd much rather they get bored of you.

Instead you'd been dragged out to a Capitol celebration before your return back home. The interview, the crowning, apparently hadn't been enough because no matter how they tried to make you seem, you were too guarded for them to get a good read on who you were. You didn't want them to know who you were, they'd already stolen you from your home, dolled you up, and forced you to fight to survive against the other dolls. Leaving your hands forever bloodstained and the screams ringing in your ears. Yet the dollhouse had not burned down when the cannon went off, they'd just deadbolted the doors. Who knew what other demented games they'd force you to play if they were given a chance to see inside your brain. So the walls stayed firmly up as you planted yourself firmly in a nook somewhere and the bustling of the party.

The dress was itchy, the shoes pinched at your feet, the way they'd styled your hair had every nerve on your scalp screaming for freedom, and the drink smelt too sickly sweet for one to even fathom sipping on. People would be looking to hound you, to find a reaction, and hopefully you could just disappear into the brick. Although fate seemed to have other plans.

“Mind if I join you?" You looked up, dreading having to talk to someone. What would you even say without revealing too much? Then of course you hadn't expected it to be the Capitol darling, Finnick Odair, himself.

He was an attention grabber. Too beloved, too shiny, wherever he went the moths were soon to follow. Which was the last thing you needed, curse Finnick Odair if he brought attention to you. “Yes, I do mind." ‘Leave. Let me see how long I can sit here until anyone approaches, let them be distracted by the wealth around them so they leave me be.’ Your brain, foot tapping the cobblestone.

He laughed, that swoon worthy smirk taking over his face. Warmth, an inviting aura radiated off of him, but you despised it at this moment. The audacity he had felt unmatched when he slid into the nook anyways. You'd met him less then a minute away and he was already being nothing less than cockily malicious. Although you shouldn't have been surprised, that's how people described him. Maybe the worst part was that some deep part of you said that it was okay, that it was right. Which was a ridiculous thought, it had barely been anytime at all.

“Do you scowl like that whenever people try to talk to you, honey?" Finnick took a bite out of whatever pastry he was holding, something extravagant, brushed with flakes of gold. He held it out, “You should try it, it's sweet like you're supposed to be."

You said nothing, if he was going to insist on being here then you certainly weren't going to reward his efforts. No, you weren't going to even look at him, your arms crossed as you kept tapping your foot. He'd get bored of you and leave eventually, if what they said was true he was bound to find someone sparklier to play with. Even if some part of you would've been okay being his shiny new toy, no that was ridiculous, however you could make the allowance that everyone had hormones so it was only natural to be feeling like this. Of course he'd be this way, the man who supposedly had no soulmate, who could play with as many hearts as he wanted because in the end there apparently was no one out there for him. What a sad existence. Thinking about it almost made you feel bad for him, but you couldn't feel that much pity when he was so close to leading the vultures right to you.

“They're gonna find you eventually, you can't hide out here forever." He was terrible, insufferable. You glowered at him and his smirk widened. “There's no point in being miserable when they're going to do this until the next games. Might as well make the most of it.” Then like he had the right to be the most entitled man in the world took the glass right out of your hand and took a drink. You hated it here, hated how people acted, that you had no one, and most of all hated the way it made you feel. Like he was the only person you should've ever paid attention to. “Didn't seem like you were gonna drink it, you can still have some if you change your mind." You didn't make a move to grab the glass, “Didn't think so." Damn him and his attitude, and his perfect teeth, and the way it made your soul feel fulfilled for some odd reason. Which was nothing less than outrageous since all he'd done in the past couple minutes was drive you up the wall. Then the voices of chatter outside got louder, ‘Shit, shit shit,’ you thought. His magnetism was going to guide them straight to you. He could seemingly tell that this put you on edge because he put a single finger on his lips, a ‘shhh.’ This only served to irk you more, of course you knew to be quiet, this was his fault.

Soon enough the voices began fading again and you were ever so grateful. “Get out." You muttered, burrowing yourself further into the corner.

“This is where I usually take my breathers, not my fault you found it too." He shrugged. How a person managed to look so perfect you'd never know and didn't want to if it made them act like him.

“You've taken more than enough breaths, so you can go now."

"Honey, being a victor is all about who you know. You need good connections or your reputation will eat you alive.”

You glared,"I'll make good connections when they finally find me, but not right now.”

He looked at you with pity, you despised that he felt the right to pity you, but it felt so nice for someone to finally look at you like you weren't in need of congratulations."It takes most of us a couple months to start hating the attention, the realization hit you quicker didn't it?” There was no way he expected you to open up to him, yes you wanted to, but you couldn't. Nobody could be trusted, that was the first lesson the arena really taught you. “Being standoffish isn't going to stop them, it'll only make them see you as a problem victor, and I promise you that's the last thing you want."

Your voice unintentionally softened,"What do you want?”

"To make sure you're gonna be okay, everyone needs someone backing their side in this arena.” This arena. A different, more social one, because you'd never be able to escape. For someone who ticked you off in every sense within a minute, just as fast he'd begun chipping away at your walls.

"You don't want to back my side.”

"Yeah, I do.” Your face was still stony, even if you felt like your stomach was less anxious about being caught and more butterflies. Of course the first man who gave you attention would make you nearly lose resolve. No, he had to want something, be playing some game.

"No one wants to bet on the losing dog.”

"Good thing you're not losing, honey. And believe it or not, maybe there's just something about you.”

"You don't know me.”

"I know and that's what's weird about it.” There was a crease forming on his furrowed brow. “Come on, you should go make an appearance."

There was no way to step back, but you tried. Heel pushing out of the shoe, but you made no move to push it back in. You were too defensive, as long as you could hide you would. “No." You shook your head.

He sighed, “You don't even have to be you, make up a persona, but you have to do something or things will get worse." No, you couldn't bear to let people peer into you, it was terrible that Finnick was even getting a taste of it. You'd only make them hate you more anyways, they'd only grow to realize it would've been better to have anyone but you. “I'll go with you, take the attention off." Maybe that would work, but then what might people think? That you were the type of person easily won over by charming looks and cocky smirks, maybe you were, but that wasn't the point.

However, you did let yourself contemplate it. You couldn't reasonably hide here all night, and his charisma could make up for what you lacked. Plus, even if you hated to admit it, if there was anyone you'd want to stick by you, to tell you everything would be alright, it would be him. It didn't make sense why you felt this way and you almost felt guilty for how crazy it made you sound. It was a miracle he even wanted to stick around when you were being so bitchy, but he was an ass, so it must have evened out.

“I don't need you to stick around me." You lied through your teeth, it was better than making him think that reliance was a vulnerability of yours. Even if it was. Even if it looked like he had the kind of arms you could cry into, you hadn't cried yet, but this was all so overwhelming it felt like you might.

Finnick looked a little wounded, but there was more pity. Like he knew you were biting to try and keep yourself safe, like you were still in survival mode. “I get it, if you change your mind, just look my way." Yet he stood still like he was waiting for you to move first, making sure you didn't just hide away the whole night. Which you would've, if it could become part of the wall you'd thank it for the opportunity. You stared back until finally the tension of the silence became so palpable that you forced yourself to move. Rather unceremoniously as you'd forgotten the way your heel was still sticking out of the shoe and tumbled right out of the rest of it.

“Fuck!" You quietly exclaimed and Finnick was quick to assist you. You wished he hadn't because the moment he touched you it was as if rays of sunlight were buzzing through your veins, like your soul was ascending.

“Oh, I got you!"

“I'm fine." You pushed him off, so the feeling would stop. It was awful, it was weird, there was no plausible reason you should feel like this. Unless…no that was ridiculous.

“Sorry." But sorry didn't make up for the residual waves of electricity, or the way your heart pounded. Or how terrible it was that you wanted to feel it again. "Here let me get your shoe.” Then his nice dress pants were on the dirty cobblestone and you felt bad thinking about how they could get ruined.

"It's okay-” But then he was pausing at your foot, and the sunlight in your blood was back even stronger as his fingers began tracing something on your foot.

"What's that?”

You tried to pull your foot away but his fingertips chased after it, "It's nothing, just the stupid soulmate scar." It wasn't stupid, never had been to you, but it was better to protect your feelings. Finnick laughed, “What?" You asked, finally pulling your foot completely away.

“Oh my god, I'm an idiot. Of course I wanted to talk to you." He kept laughing and then was abruptly pulling off his shoe.

“What are you doing?" He didn't respond as he finally pried the shoe off and the sock.

“Look, they're the same. Oh my god, I found you!" His laughter was certain to alert someone with the way it carried with the breeze, it should've annoyed you more than it did, but it was like music when it passed through your ears.

“What're you talking about?" He playfully rolled his eyes and then his hand was pulling you down on the ground with him. And despite the dirt that would get on your dress, the electric sunshine felt too good to pull away. So you sat in the pile of your dress on the ground and let him guide your feet together.

“Look at that, honey. Look at that." You would've asked what he wanted you to look at, but it quickly became obvious. Two scars, in the same place, the same size, you shared that scar with Finnick Odair. He, the Finnick Odair, who you'd just met and had already pushed you through an array of emotions, was your soulmate. The part of you that had been gnawing in the back of your brain was celebrating in ‘I told you so’s.’

“Oh.” You traced over them slowly, trying to let it sink in. Suddenly you had a soulmate, well you always had, but he was right there. Suddenly things would be alright, and maybe the universe wanted to spite you because you'd always imagined that was the person you'd finally have to open up to. Here he was, the man you'd been actively pushing away the help of.

"Is that a good, oh?” He asked and you felt bad for how you could feel a slight worry in his voice.

"I thought you didn't-”

"I lied, the nick on my foot was from swimming, and it helped the people who wanted to fawn over me. Almost convinced myself it was true though, but here you are.”

"What're you trying to do here?” You couldn't trust him, even if it felt right, even if he made your heart swell. No, this wasn't right, you were just you, and he was Finnick Odair.

Now though it was as if he could read you like a book, like all your guarded insecurities were on a display. It was a horrendous and gratifying experience to be known, to be perceived. "I'm not trying to do anything, honey, we're just meant to be. Not playing at anything, promise." So you sat there in the pile of fabric on the floor, cold stone giving you goosebumps as you stared at him. This was it, there was no need to be cautious because it was meant to be. Why would someone betray their own soulmate? He definitely didn't seem like the type.

“Okay." You finally exhaled and he smiled so wide that it made it worth it. Your walls have been somewhat successfully picked at because you let him embrace you. In fact, you let yourself relax in his arms.

“You're real, you're really real." He held you like you might slip away in a dream. “So pretty, so smart, and real!" He buried his head in your shoulder. It felt good to let someone care about you like this and it made you feel better about how instantly attracted you'd been. You'd probably look back and hate yourself for it, but you felt yourself crying. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, honey?”

You shook your head and he wiped one away, letting you hide in his chest. He was so warm, it felt so right, like the sunshine feeling would never go away. "You meant what you said earlier right? You'll stick by me?"

It felt so right when his hands traced up and down the back of your neck, “Of course, honey, won't leave your side. I got you."

God, this was embarrassing. "Sorry.” You pulled away and he shook his head.

"You're okay, don't worry, that's what this is for. We're here for each other.”

You nodded slowly, sinking into his deep eyes, you'd never seen the ocean, but you imagined that's what it would look like. "I should go make my appearance now.” Before you said another thing he had your shoe back on your foot and his on as well. Pulling you up to help you stand. "Promise to stay?" It felt pathetic, but also like he was the one you were supposed to turn to.

“Promise. I'll never leave your side, honey." Finnick squeezed your hand and maybe you could now face the world. The universe had gifted you, at your lowest point, your soulmate in a matter of minutes. Someone who could already seemingly read you like a book and made your heart beat like there was a racket happening, and you knew that you'd finally be able to just truly be you with someone. Through thick and thin, through the highest highs and lowest lows, suddenly you knew you had each other.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading, I tried to make this fluffy but honestly it's kind of a struggle so I hope it's up to standard. as always if you enjoyed feedback, comments, reblogs, likes, are all very, very appreciated. asks and requests are both open and I love you all 💋

@wowzabowza69

[daisyjonesgf]

10 things I hate about you // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

9k words

summary: you're so used to pushing everyone away to protect yourself that when someone really does try to know you, you can't help but push back, even if you slowly realize how good it feels to be seen, there's always a catch. a 10 things I hate about you college au.

warnings: college au, implied mental health and depression problems, mentions of past cheating exes, mentions of drunk videos, angst, happy ending, mostly fluff, reader if kind of mean, ungodly amount of references to the bell jar, lots of analysis of a book and a sonnet, language, mentions of vomit and hangovers, my bad poetry and the og 10tiau poem, frat president!finnick but he's still sweet, reader thinks it's enemies to lovers, finnick think it's unrequited love, peeta is also in the same frat as finnick, panic attack, no use of y/n, unedited

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The moment you walk into the classroom you make a beeline for the front corner, still in front enough that you can raise your hand, engage with the teacher to make the most of the class, but enough out of the way that other people will leave you alone. Not that most people would bother you anymore anyways, you were far off enough into major specific classes that everyone knew everyone by now, and your reputation preceded you. Anyways it’s already preps for midterms and no one has bothered you before, at least by sitting next to you, which is why you’re so shocked when the unpacking of your notebook from your bag is interrupted by someone who does.

“What are you doing?” You ask, tone already harsh, as stare at him incredulously.

“Sorry, is this seat taken? It looked empty.” He says with a smile that can’t help but seem sarcastic since you both know it never has been. The ‘he’ in question being the last person in the class you’d want to sit by you in the first place, Finnick Odair. President of some frat, they’re all the same anyways, he’s the type of guy who always made all the girls swoon, you remembered not being immune to it yourself during your party and sorority days. Most importantly though, not someone you want to talk to if you were to talk to someone. He knows he’s charming, knows he has power over women, probably uses that to make them do his homework, and that’s the most dangerous type of man.

So you refuse to gratify him with a response, instead just giving him a glare before going back to getting your notebook on the table. Making sure you’ve got your favorite pens and highlighters, your annotated copy of the book of poems the class has been analyzing recently, Shakespearean sonnets. “Have you done this week's readings yet?” He asks, and when you glance at him annoyed before silently looking back at your desks he just continues, “I started them, I really enjoyed Sonnet 147, you know, ‘My love is as a fever, longing still-’”

“Why are you talking to me?” You finally turn your head to finally look at him.

“What are people not allowed to talk to you?”

“Not you.”

“Can I see that in writing?”

“Fuck off.” You smile at him sarcastically, angrily. Before he can say anything he’s cut off by the professor opening up the class, and you look forward, trying to ignore the sight of him in your peripheral vision.

“Some people would argue that Shakespeares’ work is outdated, that we should leave it behind to focus on newer topics, that we’ve pumped everything we can out of his writing. Yet, we keep teaching it, Shakespeare seems to fill a void in our culture that no one else has.” You raise your hand and the teacher calls on you, even if there’s the smallest eyeroll.

“Those people would be right, Shakespeare doesn’t teach us anything that other poets who are rarely in the syllabus, and what can he say that a woman couldn’t? Maya Angelou, Christina Rossetti, Sylvia Plath, Phillis Wheatley Peters, but the syllabus is always Shakespeare, and Poe, and Robert Frost. They’re all good, but what’s the point of always harping on about them when there are just as talented female poets who we rarely get to read about unless it’s Women’s History Month.”

Then the most grating voice is the one opposing you first, “I think you’re wrong.” Finnick is turning straight towards you, not even bothering to act like it’s not a personal debate. “Not about us needing more women authors in the syllabus, but just because there’s a lack of the group doesn’t mean we still can’t be taught something from authors like Shakespeare. Maya Angelou isn’t writing the same poetry that Shakespeare is, they’re different, we can have both.”

Before you can interject the instructor is speaking again and Finnick is giving you a small smile and shrug, “Excellent point, Finnick, perfect segue for talking about midterms. In order to understand the importance of Shakespeare, I’m going to ask you all to take at least three of Shakespare’s sonnets and use them as a template to write your own story. Make it modern, make it real, but apply the sonnets to your life. It doesn’t have to be life changing, I just need to know that you can understand how these poems can relate to our lives, that you can make connections. You don’t have to use the same language, you’re not translating them, it just needs to have the same core ideas. I’ll post the rest of the details, but you do get extra credit if you read one of them. We’re out a early so you can get started, but I’ll see you guys Monday.”

Apparently Finnick Odair, for all his talents, lacks the ability to read social cues because he’s speaking to you again as you pack up. “So, what sonnets do you think you’ll do?” You take a deep breath as you zip up your bag.

“Let me rephrase what I said earlier because I’m realizing frat guys have beer for brains. Don’t talk to me.” He really must have beer in there because he’s speaking again the moment you go to move around him.

“Ouch, are you usually this cold to everyone?”

“Are you usually this much of a dick to everyone?”

“Sadly, yes.”God you hate him.

“Why are you even in this class, don’t you have a finance class to take?”

“It’s marine biology and this class is for my minor. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a finance class, why do you think I should? Is there something I’m missing out on?”

“Oh, does being an English minor give you extra points with the girls who think it makes you a romantic?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Very funny.” You finally push your way past him to walk out of the now empty classroom, but despite being brainless he’s annoyingly persistent.

“I just wanted an excuse to take as many poetry classes as possible, I love it, but my advisor said it’ll look good anyways for writing research papers.”

“Why are you still talking to me?” You say while you keep walking, hoping the door you didn’t hold will hit him in the face.

“You’re still talking to me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and so you don’t give him a response, he catches up with you as you turn a corner. “Go out with me.”

You look at him, feeling yourself burning with rage, “Do you usually just order women to go out with you?”

“Sorry, will you go out with me?”

“No!” You say instantly, stopping in your path to stand in the hall, “You are all so entitled, I’m not going to play into your sick system of seeing who you can fuck, ‘Oh, I got the bitchy ex-sorority girl in my bed’, fuck you.” Then you’re moving as fast as you can again.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” He’s calling back after you, “Oh my god.” Finnick mutters underneath his breath, at least he’d been able to hold a conversation with you. It was a start.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenburgs-” You’re perusing the shelves at your local library to fill your basket when the last voice you want to hear is ruining your peace.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, turning to him to find him holding the copy of The Bell Jar that had been sitting in your basket.

“Wait, one second.” He puts a finger up as he looks around, exaggerating the movements of his head, “Yep, just like I thought, this is a public library.”

“Astute observation.” You say as you grab the book back from his hand, as you pick up the basket of books to move further down the shelf.

“Means a lot, coming from you.” Finnick says following behind your every step and you roll your eyes. “I would’ve assumed you’d have already read The Bell Jar by now.”

“I have, I’m rereading it.” You stop in front of the next section, keeping the basket on your arm this time as to keep it safe from him, you didn’t need his hands all over them, who knows where they’d been.

“If it’s your favorite then why don’t you buy it?” He asks, leaning on one of the shelves, watching you scan the shelves, but you face him instead, not leaning on the shelves.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed outside of your rich boy, fraternity bubble, but most of us are normal college students, and can barely afford to survive, so no, I haven’t bought it.” He opens his mouth, but you don’t even give him the chance to exhale, “Also, who said it was my favorite? Just because I like one thing it has to be my favorite?”

Finnick’s laugh is breathy as he looks to the side and then back at you, shaking his head, “Okay, what’s your favorite then?” You don’t want to admit that he’s right, that he read you on that one, so you huff and turn around, moving further down the shelf. “Noted.”

You can’t help yourself, but immediately whip back around to face him fully, “What does that mean?”

He puts his hands up defensively, laughing, finally standing up fully instead of leaning on the bookshelf like some sort of asshole, “Nothing, I just-”

“You just what? You don’t know me, and I don’t want you to, so stop acting like you do!” You say it louder than you intend to and can feel people looking at you, breathing heavy from the outburst as you both just stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity.

“You usually have to be quiet in a library, you know.” He whispers with a smile, and you shut your eyes in frustration, but catch yourself almost smiling too. “Do you reserve this level of iciness for anyone who talks to you unprompted, or am I just special?”

Despite your better judgment you feel the tension leaving your body with an exhale, “What are you doing here?”

“Reading.” Finnick says, picking up the closest book and flipping through it, “Interesting stuff in here, apparently whoever James is, he’s a real cad.” He smiles, putting the book back in its place.

The smallest laugh forces itself out of the confines of your lips and you purse them back together, “I’m not going to go out with you, stalking me definitely lessens your chances.” Words that are usually so hard are unintentionally coming out just the tiniest bit softer and you despise it.

“So I had a chance then?” God, he’s so cocky, you wish your glare could burn holes of fire into his head.

“No, you’re in the negatives now.” Why is your voice still softer than it should be?

“There you are, are you ready to go?” Johanna’s voice cuts through the tension of annoyance between you and Finnick, her and Katniss both coming into view. “Oh, hey Finnick. I didn’t know you could read.” Thank god, she’s making up for whatever sharpness you’d been losing.

“Just a little bit.” Finnick lifts his fingers to show the tiniest gap between two of his fingertips, his skin has this golden tan that makes him seem almost angelic if you pay too much attention to it, he’s the devil in disguise.

“I’m gonna go check this stuff out.” You say, facing Johanna and Katniss.

“We’ll be just one second.” Johanna says, and you give her a look, why would she want to talk to Finnick? Why would Katniss want to talk to him? But the look she gives you has you moving on.

“See you around.” Finnick says, giving a small wave as you pass and you glare at him. His toothy grin makes you want to grin and at the same time it makes your blood boil, why won’t he just leave you alone? You try to push the thoughts out of your head, the thoughts of him, and the thoughts of them even wanting to talk to him. Focusing on just getting the books and hoping they were done quickly so you could get as far away from them as possible.

“Okay, you ready?”Johanna’s voice is pulling you back into reality from the same thoughts you’d been trying not to focus on.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You now have an armful of books as you make your way back to Johanna’s car, “What’d you guys need to talk to him about?”

“Um, it was nothing.” Katniss says, and it’s so obviously a lie, she’s been a terrible liar as long as you’ve known her.

“Katniss was nervous to talk to him about something Peeta related, some frat thing. It’s stupid.” Johanna butts in, obviously trying to cover for Katniss.

“Yeah, I don’t really wanna talk about it.” Both of them lying to you should push you over the edge, get you to snap at them, but they’ve been with you through so much that your anger is lessened. “Just some things at their house, Peeta and I were going to break up.” Her voice is kind of disjointed, forcing itself to seem normal. Bad liar, your voice is screaming.

“Why didn’t you go with Peeta then?” You question, as you’re getting into the backseat of the car.

“Look, they were going to and then Finnick just happened to be in the library, so she talked to him about it then, okay?” Johanna’s voice is slightly raised as she clicks her seatbelt in.

“I just don’t know why you’re both suddenly being so secretive!” You finally say, you despise being left in the dark.

“It has to do with frat house stuff we know you didn’t want to hear about, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, sitting back in the seat, she’s probably right, but it bothers you anyways. “Peeta’s the only nice one out of them, and if he was perfect, he wouldn’t be in a frat in the first place.”

“See, she doesn’t mind him, he should just be allowed to come over, and then this wouldn’t be an issue.” Katniss’ voice is also now slightly raised although you’re not sure why, usually she’s annoyed but in a quiet way.

“No boys at the apartment, you know the rules.” Johanna sends her some sort of knowing glance, before fully pulling out of the parking lot, “Where do you guys wanna get lunch?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“When you read it over and over again is it because you view yourself as Esther, or is it because you view yourself in the way Plath reflects herself onto Esther?” That infuriating, honey dripped voice is back at the start of the next class.

“What?” You ask, looking at him, clearly puzzled.

“ In The Bell Jar.”

“Yeah, I know that. Have you read it?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” He says like it’s nothing, “So which is it?”

“You read it yesterday?”

“Yeah, it was short, are you going to answer my question?”

“Why?”

“I asked you something first.” When you just stare at him, he rolls his eyes, but relents, “Don’t you want us reading them anyways, you said they were never in the syllabus, so I read a very popular book. Do you read them for Esther or do you read them for Plath?”

It takes you a second to respond, still perplexed about him even reading the book you enjoyed so much, “I mean Esther is a reflection of Sylvia herself, and her own conflicts between being an author and her family, her own struggles with mental illness. It has its faults, its issues, but I like that it makes me uncomfortable, that it makes me think about why Plath wrote what she wrote, what she thought, how she thought. Not only does it tell us a lot about the struggles of being a woman, but also mental health, and it shows us characters that were flawed, it represents flaws of Plath herself-” You pause, you could go on for hours about the things in the book that are problematic, about why so many young women relate with and adore the book anyways, but even letting him understand this side of you feels vulnerable. Like through the books you read he’ll be able to see you more clearly. “Why are you asking me this?”

“It’s something you care about.”

“I don’t need you to care what I care about.” You turned back forward, not sure why it had gotten you so worked up, before you stood up abruptly, walking out. Just needing a break, to breathe it out where people wouldn’t be watching, where he wouldn’t be. Leaving your stuff behind, your ears felt clogged, chest heavy, breathing shallow, and every step to the bathroom felt heavy, slow. Hands falling on the basin of the sink like it would hold you up for dear life the moment you’d entered, praying that nobody else was around, as you let out breaths you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Hyperventilating until you remembered, deep breaths, focus on the things around you.

Why were you reacting like this? Of course it’s not like it took much thought to remember why. You had your walls up for a reason, from people, from men, like him. You’d long learned your lesson about opening up to somebody who seems that charming, that interested, they’re playing 4-D chess long before you realize you’re even playing the game. There was no reason why he would be doing it, but he didn’t need one, sometimes men were just like that. You knew this, of course you knew this, so why did it feel so good to let him in?

You had no idea how much time had passed when you’d finally calmed yourself down, gotten your breathing back to normal, and your heart had stopped feeling like you were the man slowly going crazy in The Tell-Tale Heart, ‘I felt that I must scream or die - and now again - again - hark! Louder! Louder! Louder!’ that feeling was gone. All residual feelings were mostly wiped away with a few splashes of cold water on the face, you weren’t going to let him have this sort of control over you. Even if sweetness made you want to soften, you couldn’t let it, if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.

Finally you left the bathroom only to find Finnick leaning up against the wall across the way by the classroom’s door, “We got out a little bit early.” He said, the way he wasn’t smiling made you miss the smile, but the way he looked concerned made you angry again. What right did he have to be concerned? “Here, I grabbed your stuff. I can send you the notes, or I’ll send them to Johanna to send to you.”

“Thanks.” Saying thank you makes it feel like he’s winning whatever type of competition this is, so you mutter it, looking anywhere but at him. You probably should’ve said something else, but he was being kind even if it probably wasn’t genuine, and you didn’t know what to say to that, so you gave him the tiniest glance before walking away.

By the time you’d gotten home all you’d wanted to do was collapse on your bed, you felt exhausted despite only having had a couple of classes, fully missing one, and not having work that day, but the emotional toll permeated. You wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for a week, a month, all eternity even, but you knew exactly where that hole led, and you couldn’t believe you were letting talking to a man who hadn’t been directly cruel, dredge that back up. So you set yourself unpacking your bag first, you’d do some homework, and then just let yourself go to bed early. Hopefully the feeling would subside by the time morning came and you could patch up any holes in the fence that were letting the vulnerability shine through. As you opened your bag to find something you definitely hadn’t put in there, you pulled out a copy of The Bell Jar, not a library borrowed copy, but a genuine copy. Of course you knew how it got there, who put it in there, you didn’t need to think about that one. Fuck him, for thinking he could just waltz into your life after years in the background and in a matter of days start trying to slowly weasel his way in. Without thinking further you had thrown the book across the room, letting it land with a thud on the carpeted floor. Fuck trying to get shit done. You tossed your bag onto the carpet next to you and climbed into your bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. Yet you couldn’t stop your eyes trailing over to the other side of the room where the copy lay, it was like the feeling of it in your hands had etched itself onto your soul. You’d read it a million times, and yet something about that copy made you want to devour it page by page.

So ever so slowly you unwrapped your arms from around your knees, leaned yourself forward, inching towards the edge of the bed. Perching yourself at that same edge to stare at where it sat on the carpet, it had opened, landed on some page, and from where you sat you could see ink, little marks surrounding the text. The intrigue you’d had only swelled in your chest, what had he written, and why? What story was he trying to tell? You leaned over to grab the book and toppled off the bed, but instead of getting back up you grabbed the book, and there on the floor let its pages consume you whole.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On Wednesday it was you who spoke first, “Esther.” Finnick looks at you, like he wasn’t expecting you to say anything, like you’d almost defeated him last time, “I read it because of Esther.” It’s not a lie, but you avoid saying specifically that you see yourself in her, if he’s smart, which he is turning out to be, he’ll know what you mean. It’s too much to say out loud though, that you don’t feel more seen then when you’re reading Esther, or when you were reading last night, far too vulnerable.

Regardless of whether he knows, he smiles, “You read it.”

“Don’t start to flatter yourself.” You say with an eye roll, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He repeats as he shakes his head, his smile makes your own peek through more despite your best efforts. “So…”

“So?”

“What’d I get wrong? What did I misunderstand, come one there’s got to be something.”

“Well…” Usually you’d automatically have had something to say, to argue, but more than anyone else it’s like this man has found your weak spots, treated them with the greatest care, and your blood has stopped boiling over.

“Well?”

“The fig tree, you misunderstood the fig tree.” Something you didn’t understand how he could misunderstand considering how it was probably the most popular metaphor to have come out of the book. “You said she was limiting herself, assuming she could only have one so she chooses to let the options rot away rather than feasting on them all, but imagine it like if you grab one, all the rest instantly rot. You can only have one, be master of one trade, not jack of them all. Plus, she’s a woman in the 50’s so she’s even more limited then we could understand now. She has to pick one, most of us really, have to pick one thing to dedicate our entire lives to. Picking who you want to be, and the longer you take to experiment, the more life has passed you by. The less time you have to do it. Your mind is overactive and rife with possibilities, every time you think you’re about to reach out and pluck the perfect fig, you notice the one right next to it, equally as plump, and suddenly you’re back where you started. Before you know it the time you would need for each of these dreams has passed, and every fig is rotten, you can’t grab them anymore, they’re gone and you’re still stuck in the tree. Everybody, everything has moved on, and you’re still haunting the same hallways you always have been.”

Finnick is looking at you with some sort of twinkle in his sea green eyes, the eyes that call to you like sirens, a look you can’t quite understand, that a small part of your brian still tells you not to trust. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just so passionate about it.”

You look at him and it hits you, “You already knew all that didn’t you?” The way he looks to the side and pulls a face instantly confirms it.

“I just wanted to hear what you had to say!” He throws his hands up defensively.

“Fuck you!” This time you don’t say with anger, or vitriol, but with a laugh carrying it out of your mouth and smile you don’t try to tug down.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“If his love for her is making him sick, is making him mad, then why doesn’t he just move on?” You and Finnick are on a bench somewhere in the campus gardens, you’re facing him, knee pulled up to rest your chin on top of it, his leg also sitting on the bench, one arm laying across his knee as the other holds the sonnet you’ve been discussing. His beloved Sonnet 147. A week had passed since the first annotations and suddenly it was like you wanted to hear his opinion on everything, and he wanted to hear yours.

Finnick chuckles, always with that radiant smile, one that could shine brighter than the sun. “He can’t just leave, he’s in too deep. Love has made the very thought of her inescapable, he’d do anything for her, only death can save him. It’s not a choice, it’s like she’s latched herself onto him and it won’t let go. Even though she hasn’t always been kind to him, or liked him, or thought good things about his character, he loves her”

“Maybe he should take no for an answer.”

“He is, and it eats him alive anyways, her having him would be the only cure, and she won’t so he goes mad and has to rot away because of it. ‘Past cure I am, now reason is past care, and frantic mad with evermore unrest.’ Love so passionate that it will burn him up from the inside out.” Finnick talks with so much love, it hits you that he must love someone that much, and inexplicably the thought makes you sick to your stomach. You’re pulled away from those thoughts as the moving clouds make rays of sun shine down on his face, and it seems like he glows, like he’s some sort of angel, or deity.

“That sounds miserable.”

“Sometimes it is, but so does sitting in the middle of a fig tree as they fall out of reach.”

“Well it’s a good thing that I’m not sitting in a fig tree, I know exactly what I want.” You move your leg and sit cross-legged now.

“What’s that?”

“To write, ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

“So future generations can read your works like you read The Bell Jar?”

“Yeah.” You say with a soft smile.

“You’ll be great at it, there’s a reason your stories always win every contest, get published in the on-campus newspaper, you’re talented.” You stare at him, “What?”

“I just didn’t think anybody noticed, or if they did notice anything it was thinking I’d bite their heads off or something.” You try to sound at least a little dismissive even though you can feel your face getting hotter for reasons you can’t explain, it must be the sun moving to shine on you now.

“Well, two things can be true.” Finnick chuckles, running and through his hair. “Plus, no one thought you were vicious until like the last year.”

“Yeah, I know, but who cares what people think.” You pick at your fingernails, before realizing that one of the patches in your fence has broken, more than one, and suddenly telling him vulnerable things doesn’t feel scary anymore. “I mean I used to, it was like my whole thing, with the sorority sisters, and some of them were great, but not all of them. I just wanted their approval so bad, and everybody else's too. Then with everything that happened, I just realized I didn’t need that anymore, to let what other people thought of me control me.”

“What happened?” Finnick asks, and you look up from your hands.

“Don’t act like everybody doesn’t know.”

“Very self-important of you to say,” It should make you mad, but with that smirk of his you can’t help but laugh. “People know the basic stuff, the video of you drunk, you dropping out of the sorority house, and then being as you are now, acting like you don’t care what other people think.”

“Acting?” That does make you mad, does make you feel a little simmer in your blood as you sit up a little straighter.

“All I’m trying to say is that if you refuse to let people see the vulnerable side of you, then you’re being inauthentic and putting on a show, so part of you must care. You’re not a violent dog and yet you bite.” Suddenly you feel like you’ve been shot in the chest, as if you can feel a bullet cascading, tearing through your body, inch by inch. Are you supposed to be mad? Sad? You don’t know how long is spent biting your lower lip as you search for something to say, but you do know he’s looking at you so sympathetically with those eyes that you would happily drown in. Fuck his sympathy, you think, and you nearly find yourself storming away. Yet somehow the exposure also feels nice, being seen makes you feel alive, ‘I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.’ Lines that echoed around your head, moving in waves and circles, and you steady your breath. You’d been so close to the spiral before and it was his ideas, his copy, his gift to you that had reinvigorated something in you and it was as if he’d always find new ways to do that.

“I was dating Johnny McGregor, he was Vice President of Phi Delt at the time, and I was basically frat fucking sweetheart, did all the fucking work for them. Anyways, it was always putting on a face, doing a million different things for him, and then one night, I was shitface drunk and high off my ass, just so crossed, and he took a video of it. I guess he thought it was the funniest fucking thing ever, me basically to out of it to even walk, and he posted it anywhere he could, sent it in our Barstool, it was on the fucking Yikyaks, and everybody knew about it. Was fucking quoting shit I was slurring to me in classes, making memes about it. The worst part though was while I was stumbling around in the snow, barely conscious, he told the pledges to watch me, so he could go do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was snowing, I was barefoot out there, in some t-shirt and shorts for god knows what reason, they were able to get me inside, I guess I puked everywhere again, the first time was in the video, and eventually they were able to drag me up to porch. I woke up, raging hangover, confused as hell and find my way back down to Johnny’s room where I find him passed out with my Big, so much for fucking sisterhood. So I break up with him, and he’s begging me not to, then I find out he’s also posted the video, and my sorority sisters are blowing up my phone, going off about how I’m smearing the reputation of the house, all this bullshit, and Tiffany, my Big, has the audacity to give me shit too. On top of it all, I got fucking pneumonia. I’d been cheated on, and betrayed. I was the laughing stock of anyone in the school who didn’t live under a rock, they wanted to put me on some sort of probation or at least ice me out for a while, and I was sick. It felt like I was suddenly living in a nightmarish hellscape. So I decided I was done with it all, I had tried too hard, and it took one night to shatter everything. None of it was real, it was bullshit, so maybe being a bitch is still a cover, but it’s a better cover than whatever was happening before.”

Before you can process what’s going on suddenly Finnick’s lips are on yours, for a split second you follow your instincts and pull away, he starts to mouth the ‘s’ to say sorry, but you don’t let him, pressing your lips back onto his. He tastes like sea salt, not in an overwhelming way, in a way that’s just right. It’s so perfect, it’s so him, and he really is warm like the sun, he smells like coconut and the ocean. One of his hands moves to the side of your head, fingers tangling into your hair, and you can’t help but lean into it. When you finally pull apart you can still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, like they’ve tattooed themselves onto your own.

“I’ve changed my mind, I’ll go out with you.” And Finnick is kissing you again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You don’t know how Johnna was suddenly convinced to change her mind, but both Peeta and Finnick have been allowed to come over for game night. What would have been a violation of roommate rules before, has not apparently been given the okay for reasons you can’t begin to fathom, but you’re okay with this sudden change of your heart. It just means you get to see him again. Get to feel seen. That’s exactly what the night has been, letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders, legs intertwined on the carpet as you all sat around the living room coffee table.

“Hold up, I’ll be right back, does anyone want gum?” You ask, standing up as you head to your room.

“I would love one!” Peeta says with a smile, raising up his hand. You hold a thumb up to him as you disappear out of view. Before sticking your head back out the doorway, “You,” You point your finger at Finnick, “Don’t even think about going for me.”

“Wasn’t even thinking of it,” Finnick says, putting down your hand of cards, and with a playful glare your head disappears behind the door frame again.

You find the pack of gum after some rummaging around your room, grab two sticks, and are on your way back out of the room when you stop because you’ve heard the whisps of a conversation that has your brain rushing for answers at what feels like a million miles per hour.

“I told you it would work,” Peeta says, “Killed two birds with one stone.”

“Surprised you were actually able to do it.” You can basically hear Johanna raising her eyebrows, shaking her head.

“I’m not, I mean look at him, look at me, look back at him. He did all the work.” Peeta laughs.

“Did all the work for what?” You butt in, leaning on the wall in the hallway as you look out at all of them, and maybe you would’ve made yourself believe whatever they said if it weren’t for the way they all glanced at each other. It was so small, so fleeting, yet so unmistakable. Nobody says anything at first, just look at you, and you tilt your head, “What did he do the work for.”

“For us to be able to come here, to convince Johanna.” Peeta says and it’s so believable, but if you have learned one thing about him from game night, it’s that unlike Katniss, he is an excellent liar.

“What was the look for then?”

“What look?”

“There was no look.” Katniss adds in, and if her being sucky at lying wasn’t enough, the way Johanna keeps staring at her cards is like you’ve just gotten some sort of bingo.

“Come on, come sit down, it’s nothing.” Finnick says, patting down next to him.

You can’t help but laugh, “You guys are fucking unbelievable, I know you’re lying, do you think I’m fucking oblivious?” You ask, walking from the hall to the kitchen island, turning away from them to take a deep breath, dropping the sticks of gum.

“Listen,” It’s Johanna’s voice that makes you turn around.

“Jo-” Finnick starts to step in.

“No, Finnick, she’s got to know.” Johanna snaps back before he can even finish getting her name up.

“What do I have to know?” You ask, arms crossed.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal, it’s really nothing-” Peeta says, standing up.

“Which is what people say before it is, so just fucking say it.”

“It’s just Katniss didn’t like going to the house and would rather be here, so Jo said that if you wanted to bring somebody else back to the apartment, in the same way, then we could-”

“Fuck you guys, you’re all fucking assholes.” You turn around, already headed to the door. The apartment feels suffocating, their eyes on you feel voyeuristic, you’ve let your guard down, and they knew all the right things to do to make that happen.

“Fuck, you shouldn’t have lead with that, there’s more to it then that.” Finnick is butting in and you can hear people getting up, walking towards you, but you’re already opening the door.

“Where are you going?” Katniss asks, “It’s freezing.”

“Anywhere but here,” You say, turning back to face them before you shut the door on your way out, “I’m not part of your manipulative mind games, okay? You don’t get to just play with my life and my boundaries, I woiuldn’t have minded just having Peeta over, so fuck you guys. This wasn’t my rule, I’m not a goddamn chess piece.”

You slam the door shut and are out of the apartment complex building as fast as possible, trying to hold back tears, who knows who could be watching. You feel pathetic, you’d actually let yourself think someone cared, when really it was all of them trying to gain something or control something about you. Johanna, trying to force you out of your shell for some reason, which doesn’t seem like her, but she still did it. Katniss and Peeta wanted to be at the apartment, and Johanna should have just let them or waited patiently, but no, he had his friend get involved, manipulate the situation, and Finnick. You don’t even want to think about Finnick, it makes your eyes sting. Over the weeks you had let him in, been vulnerable, opened up, stopped being the dog that bit, but he was just trying to tame you so you’d give Peeta what he wanted, not because Finnick actually cared about you.

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” A voice interrupts your racing thoughts and as you turn around to face the voice that makes your blood boil, a voice that cuts like a knife, and grates your ears, and it’s as you turn that you finally notice the rain that’s been pouring down on you.

“Good, maybe it’ll get you too!” Hopefully the rain covers for any tears that have fallen, he doesn’t deserve to see them.

“I wish it would.” Finnick says, with those eyes that call from so far away, they really are siren eyes, calling you into your death. “I know what you think-”

“We don’t know anything about each other.” You cut in harshly, “Don’t think for a second that you know what goes on in my head.”

“I didn’t do it just because I was asked to, Jo-”

“What? Did they pay you too? Offer you a couple more bucks to get by? The talking in the library, it all makes sense, they tell you things they know about me, so you can act like you’re observational, like you care, when that’s not who you are at all.”

“No!” He’s basically yelling through the pouring rain, “I did it because I love you.” There’s a silence only cut by the pattering of raindrops on the cement, “I’ve always loved you, since I met you.”

“Fuck you.”

He’s trying to get closer and you’re stepping further back so he stops, “They knew that I’d had a crush on you since forever, since the days when you were at the parties, everyday you were in one of my classes arguing, every version of you, I have loved you. Everybody knew, except you, so they thought this would be a chance to make me finally do something about it and help Peeta out too. Okay? It wasn’t to hurt you, I’d never want to hurt you.”

You feel your body heating up, probably from the anger, or the burning of the tears coming through that you beg the rain to be covering. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much, “You don’t love me, you don’t know anything about me. Do you really think I’d think you were able to step out of your own self obsessed world long enough to love anyone? You are so full of yourself if you think that I’d fall for your bullshit. Leave!”

“Honey-”

“Don’t call me that!” You hate feeling so weak, so pathetic as the sobbing makes your voice shake, lip trembling as Finnick walks closer to you, hopefully it looks like you’re just shivering, which is still bad. It must make you look like prey shaking in the cold. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you and for some reason it’s like you’re frozen in place, looking up at him.

“Is that what you really want?” Finnick asks, and you both just stare at each other, his perfect lips that lied to you, his gorgeous eyes that deceived you, all of him that had drawn you in so much that it made you feel like you were drowning and forgot how to swim. That every time you’d slightly come afloat the waves would drag you back under, filling your lungs with water until they burn, until all of you burns. The sun and the water both burn you alive.

“Yes.” You croak out, cursing yourself for not sounding more confident, and he finally looks away. Looking at the ground as he nods.

“Okay,” Finnick says, taking a step away, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Just like that he’s gone, disappearing into the dark of the night and the torrent of rain.

You don’t know why you watch his figure disappear for so long, letting yourself get completely drenched from head to toe, feeling your body become just as numb as you feel inside. Before slowly, so mindlessly walking up the stairs back into the complex, not saying a word to anyone as you enter the apartment again, walking robotically to your room and curling up on top of your covers. For a while all you can hear, all you can feel is the beating of your heart, ‘I am, I am, I am.’ The line comes back to you again, and then the sobs start racking through your body.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Class on Monday feels like every movement is so slow, so grey, yet it goes by so fast. Sitting in the classroom as you stare blankly forward, not feeling the usual fire of everyday, no passion. Finnick doesn’t sit by you either, in your peripheral you see him look at you when he comes in before sitting in the back.

“Welcome, good morning, today we’re going to give an opportunity for those who want the extra credit to read one of their sonnet adaptations, remember let’s support each other, all they have to do is capture the essence of what Shakespeare was trying to say. Does anyone want to start?” The professor asks, hands clasping together, looking around the room. Someone must raise their hand because the teacher smiles, “Yes, Finnick, come on up!”

You want to zone out, tear your eyes away from him, but you can’t help but watch him as he steps in front of the classroom. His golden halo of hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the tan of his skin, and the way he looks at you as he starts.

“Love, like an illness, traps me in its grasps,

I see you, in the shadows of every,

Feverish dream, stuck like a broken clasp.

No treatment, nor way to topple the tree.

I beg for release, for your scorn does not

Free me, from padded walls I imagine

Your face, wherever I turn or do trod.

No liberation from my own passion.

Insanity drives me to lengths of no

Compare. Groveling for even a look

Of hate. I know, you do it all for show,

When I read you’re always my favorite book.

The world may crash, just as the world may burn,

For you, my love will never be discerned.”

Finnick’s poem ends, looking up from the paper to you as the class claps along, but you don’t move an inch. Staring back at him until he moves back to his seat. “Excellent job, Finnick, who’s next?” The teacher asks, eyes scanning the room. You can’t help but raise your hand, if there’s one thing the mess of Finnick Odair was right about, although you’d never admit it, hiding your feelings is just as much of a facade as what you were doing before. You want to prove him wrong, even if it makes your heart rate spike, you’re not hiding, you can be vulnerable, you just choose not to. This time you can, this time you will, it’s not a front, you’re just who you are, you tell yourself, and the teacher tries to act like they weren’t rolling their eyes as they call on you.

You don’t try to find Finnick in the room, you don’t want to look at him, you want to look at your paper, and at everyone except him because of the tears you can already feel burning in your chest.

“I hate the way you talk to me,

And the way you write in books.

I hate the sandals and sweaters you wear,

I hate the way you stare.

I hate the way you smile at me,

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

It even makes me rhyme. I hate it,

I hate the way you’re always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

Even more when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around,

And the fact you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,

Not even close

Not even a little

Bit, not even

At all.”

You can’t help but find yourself looking up at him at the end of the poem and feel yourself crying, and you don’t hear anything else that happens before you’re grabbing your bag and leaving, rushing out as quickly as you can. Maybe you were vulnerable, but you didn’t need people to see you cry any longer than they already had. You just wanted to curl up in bed again, you’d have to wait for the bus, but you were willing, anything to get you home faster. The longer you waited, the longer the ride was, the more you thought about him. The things he said, whatever he was trying to imply. You’d never understand him, or why he was still trying to keep this act up far after the illusion had shattered. Everyone had gotten what they wanted, so why was he still so set on trying to break you down further? Eventually you arrived at your apartment complex and as you walked down the hallway recognized a figure leaning on the wall outside.

“Finnick?” You asked and he quickly looked up from his phone, shoving it in his pocket, “What do you want?” You can’t help sounding exasperated, this has been exhausting.

“You.” He says it so softly that you almost feel like you’ve misheard him, but the way his ocean eyes bore into yours makes you certain you haven’t.

“Is that what you say to all the girls you fuck over?”

“Only the one I’m in love with.” Finnick’s smile is half-hearted, not as bright as it usually is, like the sun has been beating him down rather than shining down.

“Where is she? I don’t see her anywhere.” You look around the hallway to make some point that you don’t know why you’re even trying to make except the anger you still feel.

“Oh, here.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds the camera up to your face, “Here, right there.”

“I always knew you were in love with yourself.”

“What?” He looks down to see it’s flipped toward him, “Fuck, there.” Finnick flips it around to you, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like you’d be kicking a puppy if you said anything harsh, you hate the feeling, whatever he’s doing to you, you hate it so much. So instead of saying anything you just softly push his phone down. He loses his smile and shoves his phone back into his stupid shorts, it’s 50° outside, and you can only imagine how cold he’d let it get before he put on a pair of pants. “I know, I should have just sucked it up and talked to you before, I shouldn’t have needed the extra push, and I’m sorry if that made you feel any less than, or like it wasn’t real. But, I do love you, even when you were dating Johnny, I couldn’t help watching you. Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you, and I didn’t know when to tell you. I know you think me being in a frat is stupid and outdated, all I really do is deal with everyone else's shenanigan anyways, and that you think I’m the worst man you’ve ever met, but-”

You don’t know what comes over you when you kiss him, you just let instincts take over, let your body do what it’s been longing to do, and the moment you do, you feel him start smiling against your lips, “Don’t get cocky.” You mutter in one of the brief moments your lips aren’t on each other’s.

“I’m always cocky.” You laugh as you pull away, shaking your head, and he laughs too. As you look away you notice something on the doorstep.

“Is that?” You ask in shock, starting a typewriter sitting on your welcome mat, tiny blue bow stuck to the top of it and all.

“It’s just a little something I picked up, help sweeten the deal you know.” Finnick tries to play it off like it’s nothing, but you can tell how nervous he is from the way he awkwardly sticks his hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t need to do all this.”

“Well, I know that now, but maybe now I don’t know, you’ll feel more inspired to write something great.”

“How did you know?” You ask, looking at him, it’s not like you’d told him that you’d always dreamt of writing your first novel on a typewriter, it was something you rarely told anyone in fact. More of a silent dream, checking in second hand shops, wishing they were in your price range.

He shrugs, head shaking, “I just knew, it reminded me of you.” This time you really can’t stop yourself when you throw your arms around his neck to pull him in for another kiss.

“You know you can’t just buy yourself out of every fuck up, right?” You ask him when you pull away, arms still holding around his neck, and by now his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Well, it’s worked twice so far, so I don’t know I think we have a ways to go before it stops being a feasible option, quill and ink, special edition books, masterclasses with famous authors, I hear Margaret Atwood does a great one, a personal library, the options are really endless.”

“You’re the worst.” You say with a laugh.

“I know.” Finnick says before kissing you again, and after all this time of assuming everyone was out to get you, of being the dog that bit, of being one step away from spiraling, it feels nice to have someone with you who sees you so completely, who’s not afraid of the ups or downs. Suddenly the world makes sense again, it’s no longer you versus the rest of the world, it’s a world you’re remembering that you are a part of, and you can make an impact on without being scared it will bite back. Maybe, being yourself doesn’t just mean turning away from who people expected you to be, but also being true to every single side of you. The sad, the angry, the parts that want to bitch, and the parts that want to cry. The parts that want to smile, or scream, the parts that want to love. Maybe, you are exactly where you need to be.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I know it's way past valentine's day, but thank you for reading. I know it was a long one, but I hope you enjoyed and as always likes, comments, reblogs, asks are also so much appreciated, I love to hear from you guys. thank you for all the undying support, love you all 💋

[daisyjonesgf]

the river (4) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter/next chapter

masterlist

4.8k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, talks of trafficking and abuse related to it, aftermath of breakups, mentions of torture, self destructive behavior, mental illness, unedited, no use of y/n, underage drinking, paranoia

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“I'm hurting you, real or not real." It's been days of this, of Finnick trying to bring you back to him. Half the time you were fine, you'd try to go over the past with him, joke, and open up, so he'd do the same. He had to be so careful though, it wasn't clear what exact things would set it off, but you'd get so paranoid about him and the doctors. Occasionally they'd be able to calmly bring you back, ground you back into the firmness of reality. The other times you'd devolve completely, screaming, crying, hysterical, and Finnick would have to step away as you'd get worse when he was close by. It was an exhausting, never-ending cycle, but it was worth trying to get you back.

Today you'd let his chair be by your bed, but now he was scared he'd be forced to retreat. He had to be careful, if he lied you might be able to see it in his face and be convinced he was lying about other things, or he could tell the truth and risk the spiral of guilt. “Real." He knotted his rope, staring down at it for a second.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to or want to. I'm really sorry." You're crying and he's thinking, oh shit, so early in the morning and now a whole day of what could've been progress will be lost.

He stared at you, trying to portray as much genuine feeling as possible, “I know that, angel, I don't blame you. I could never blame you and have never blamed you." It hurt to be so close yet so far away, he could reach out and touch you, but he knew better. Not like you always told him when you did want him to hold you though, some days you communicated well, but others it was like you forgot that he needed explicit permission to come close. You'd get grumpy when he couldn't just tell you wanted him closer and do as much. Truthfully it was adorable, and it reminded him of the past, but that also made his heart ache. He couldn't just make an inference anymore on the off chance it sent you into a frenzy, so he'd have to sit by and wait.

“You should, I'm so fucked in the head, and you deserve better."

“Well I'm pretty fucked in the head too, sweet girl, and there is no one better." You were hiccuping on your sobs, this could go badly so quickly. “Hey, it's okay, we're okay, why don't you take some deep breaths with me, angel? Look at me, just follow what I do, deep breath in, deep breath out." He urged you to look at him and you did, trying to follow along through the tears until finally you were somewhat calmed down.

“I'm sorry." You sniffled, wiping away stray tears.

“It's okay, sweet girl, we're gonna have a good day today, right?" The last couple had been rough, so strenuous for the both of you. You nodded slowly, “Maybe they'll let us take a walk or eat lunch with everyone else. Would you like that?”

"I don't know.” Your knees curled up into your chest.

"That's okay, we don't have to take that step yet if you don't want to. We can just talk or sleep or I can teach you some knots, and whatever else we can think of.” You shrugged and he had to realize that it could be a good day, but it probably wasn't going to be an easy one. With you in one of your difficult moods that he'd be left to handle. You'd say no even if you wanted something, silently expect him to come to the conclusion himself, and if it had been before the Capitol dug their talons in it would've been fine. He would've teased you about it before giving into your quiet plea for attention and he would've relished it because it meant you wanted comfort instead of only comforting him. Now though he didn't know what you were thinking, he had assumptions but the risk of being wrong was too great. “We have to use our words, angel, and if that's too hard you can write it down."

You said nothing and laid your head down on your knees, shaking it. Finnick shifted in his seat, rubbing his head, he didn't want to be annoyed with you, but it had been bad day after bad just to lead to this. He was exhausted and hated Snow for making him work so hard just to have you back again. “Please, don't be mad at me.” Your voice was so broken and so soft that he regretted even showing any form of annoyance.

"Angel, I'm not mad at you. I just can't help you unless you tell me what you want or need.” You ever so quietly let out a small huff as you laid down instead, staring at the ceiling. At least you weren't screaming until you needed to be sedated, you were just having a hard time communicating your needs. Finnick was sure all you wanted was to be held, in the past that's what it usually had been. “Is this making you feel embarrassed, honey?" Sometimes the switch between trying to push down your own needs for solace had left you like this, difficult to feel like you deserved to be consoled. Now though, he reasoned, it was because you felt like such a burden.

"I don't know what's going on in my head and everything is so conflicting. I just want to be me again so I know what I want, and you know, and I don't know it's too much. And I want to say things, but I can't because I just want people to see me as I was and know." His poor, sweet girl having to fight all the inner turmoil. You felt different, but you weren't. You were just struggling and wanted things to be the same as they had before, he knew that, but he also knew that they couldn't be until there were less breakdowns, less paranoia.

He had to suck it up and just give what he was so sure it was at the risk of another breakdown if he got closer, but the alternative was a different type of breakdown. “Do you want me to lay with you again?” You played with your fingers and nodded, so he slipped in beside you. He knew there was more from the way you looked at him and hoped he wasn't pushing boundaries, that he was right. "Angel, do you want to be held?” You finally smiled just a little bit when you nodded, grateful, and he smiled back,"Come here, sweet girl.” The moment his arms were around you your head snuggled into his chest, it felt perfect, the way you two were meant to be.

"Don't let me go."

“Wouldn't dream of it." He hadn't touched you in so long it was like heaven in his arms again. “You ready to talk now, sweet girl? Wanna tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult for everyone, I don't know what going on in my head half the time anymore.” Your voice vibrated through his chest and it was so comforting to him.

“You're just trying to get better, it's okay. And you can ask me, angel, you don't have to sit with it in your head and let it eat you up. You can just ask me if it's real.” His fingers traced circles on your shoulder, you were so cold all the time, it made him feel less hot and stuffy

“I'm safe, real or not real?"

“Real." Safe from the arena, the Capitol, the only thing you weren't safe from was yourself.

“Okay." You snuggled yourself further into him, like you trying to let yourself believe it. “When I was in the Capitol…” Finnick's ears perked up,"I'd try so hard to keep myself in reality, and I'd think about that time we took that tiny, crickety rowboat out and you said it would be romantic. So you packed up your fishing rod and we'd been out for a couple of hours when it was probably time to row back. So I said I'd take one of the oars-”

"Because you insisted I deserved to rest since it was so hot and I'd rowed us out, which I wasn't, but you gave me that cute little pout so I let you have one.” Of course he remembered this, even if three years ago felt like an eternity.

"You were tired!”

"That's subjective.” You scoffed, but he could hear you smiling.

“Anyways, right after you give me the oar you started kissing me-"

“You just look so cute when you pout like that and you were shining in the sun, like an angel, I had to."

"But you distracted me and I got so caught up in it because you were being an ass, started leaning me down.” He does remember his diabolical plan when you were sitting down sweetly on that little row boat, trying to help him, he just wanted to lay you right down and show you how appreciative he was.

"And you dropped the oar, sweet girl, wasn't my fault.”

"Yes, it was, you distracted me and then you tilted your body when you heard the splash to see what happened and so I did the same. Which made the boat tip over and left us both in the water.”

“And you just started laughing, I couldn't even be worried about you because your sweet little laugh was the first thing I heard. I just swam right over and had you in my arms, started laughing with you, and the only way I could get you to stop was by kissing you.”

"And then you wouldn't let me help you get the oars and row boat back up.”

"You're so pretty, sweet girl, would rather watch you while I'm on task, we saw what happened when that doesn't happen.”

"That was your fault!” You exclaimed, he could feel your smile on his chest.

“Maybe, but it was worth it.”

You hummed in response, one of your hands playing with the fabric of his own medical gown. "And then you insisted I had to get on first and I didn't know how you did it but somehow you got me in the row boat again before climbing back in, without it tipping over, it almost did, but not completely. And it was so hot that it was drying us off completely when you rowed us back with that beautiful, goofy smile on your face the whole time.”

“Couldn't help myself, you're so beautiful, love to look at you, angel."

“And only after we got to shore and you were insisting on carrying the whole boat by yourself did I notice I'd lost one of my sandals." You let out a small laugh into his chest that made his own smile brighten. “So you told me it was another reason I couldn't carry the boat even though it didn't bother me. We'd lost all the fish so we just ate grapes and giggled as you tried to figure something else out."

“I sat you on the counter and you just smiled like you were the sun, so I'd sneak kisses in while I worked. We decorated that rowboat together, do you remember?"

You nodded into his chest, eyebrows scrunched together. “With flowers and seashells?"

“Yeah, good job! Flowers, seashells, fish, the ocean waves, our handprints, and I carved our initials into it too."

Your voice become somehow even softer, “So when I was in the Capitol I'd think about how refreshing the water felt when the sun was beating down on us, how it felt and tasted when you kissed me, how you held me, the sound of you laugh, how special you made me feel by taking care of me. I'd think about that day to try and stop me from slipping away, for a while it worked."

You never ceased breaking his heart and making him fall deeper in love with you. "Well you're still here with me, haven't really slipped away from me.”

"I feel like I have, that I've slipped away from even knowing myself.” You admitted, voice croaky.

“You've just fallen and we're helping you back up, angel, I'm putting you back in the boat. Maybe it'll rock, but I promise you, it won't tip again."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

His life was hell with you gone because now there was nothing but the ever present loneliness to return too. There wasn't a day that seemed to pass where he didn't think of you in some way. Sometimes it was how much he missed you, others it was fantasies of still being together, and the worst ones were when he'd imagine your life without him. It was terrible when the breakup had begun and he had his first party because everybody had been drawn to you.

“Where is she, is she not feeling well because I can stop by."

"You can't have let that one go, Odair, she was perfect for you.”

"Finnick, she was my drinking buddy!" People admonished him left and right when it was finally revealed that he'd dumped you. Although he was pretty sure people were more upset about the lack of your magnetic presence.

Initially he tried to play it off like his Capitol persona would have, you were just one of many girls lined up for him, and the committal part had scared him off, and you were so clingy. The rumor mill caught it and so many girls were ready to be next. He felt like he was betraying you every time he sent a flirty smirk back to whatever they said to draw him in. So he gave up the persona, he'd rather be mournful and drink away the problems each night.

Then he'd heard that Tallulah still saw you, she'd grab a bottle or two and sneak out to tap on your window. That way she still had someone to take care of her afterwards and she trusted you with the role. “Lulah please tell me what she says, I don't care what about, just anything. I'm begging you." Finnick was tipsy and felt like he was going to cry, but Tallulah pursed her lips.

“Finnick, I don't think that's a good idea.” She took another sip of her drink.

"I'll do whatever you want, please. I'm not asking you to pass messages or anything.” She must have taken pity on him and his tears when she agreed. So he soaked up anything you'd said the next time he saw Tallulah.

“I don't think you want to know."

“I do, I don't care what it is."

“Finnick, if you're already this beat up about it, I'm not sure telling you what she said will help.”

“That's okay, I deserve to feel bad about it."

Tallulah sighed, " People talk Finnick, so the things you'd said about her kind of, you know, got back to her.”

Finnick looked up as if it would stop the tears from falling,"No, no, no, no I didn't mean that. She has to know I didn't mean that.”

"But you said it.” Tallulah shrugged. "She kept asking if I thought she was too clingy or overbearing, sometimes she'd ask if you had someone else and then decided she didn't want to know.”

"No, never.” He said quickly and hated himself for leaving his sweet girl only to cause her even more pain from afar.

“If you're gonna leave a girl, you have to leave her, Finnick. Or you're both gonna spend your whole lives wishing for things when you could just move on. I'm not gonna do this again, just let her have Conway. It's always been them.”

"I know, that's okay.” But it wasn't because Finnick Odair was like a moth to a flame. Any time he could see or hear about you he would. He remembered when nearly a year later you'd started dating Beckett, the same goddamn Beckett that had drawn Finnick to you in the first place. He'd been jealous for a myriad of reasons he had no right to. At least it wasn't Conway, at least if you stuck with Beckett it was a different ending then the expected, the obvious route.

But god, did Finnick hate him. Because he represented you trying to move on, that Finnick didn't have a future with you, and worst of all that other people found you just as intriguing as he did. So when he'd walk the market in circles just to see Beckett shamelessly flirting with you and in your way, you'd flirt back. Maybe he was vain, but Finnick liked to imagine that you did it so he'd be jealous and take you back, even if that could never happen. Beckett had to know it affected Finnick too, who only maintained terse conversation or made jabbing comments towards the other boy.

Until finally whatever excitement you got from it burnt out and you told Beckett it wouldn't work. Leaving Finnick to wonder if it was wrong that he hoped it was because you realized you could never love someone as much as you loved him. It was probably fucked to want, but he needed to know so desperately that you were as longing for him as he was for you. His life condemned him to longing glances and whispers of your name over the ocean waves, but at least you would be safe. Maybe he'd find you in another lifetime, right person, wrong time. Then you could be safe and happy.

Instead he realized the universe didn't expect either of your lives to be ones of just the parted lovers, whatever he'd done in a past life, was coming back for blood. He should've known Snow would realize Finnick thought of you with every breath he took, that he still thought of your lips instead every time he was in the company of a customer, and that it would lead to more tragedy. Because when the fated reaping for the 69th Hunger Games began, it was your name sent into the labyrinth of death.

Any light left in his life had been aggressively ripped from him, it was as if everytime he thought he'd hit rock bottom the ground would crumble beneath him and the falling would resume. At least he knew you were smart, he was privy enough to the clockwork of you to know that you were terrified, but to anyone else you would've looked so calm and collected. Then you looked at him and he felt like the ground was breaking again, another thousand feet to fall. It was like you were sending him a love letter before you went off to certain death.

Tides were always changing, they could sweep you away or reveal the gorgeous curiosities of the waters, Finnick wasn't sure what it was when the second tribute's name was called. Conway. Why was he inescapable? If the stars destined you and Finnick to be tragic lovers, then Conway was always there to rock the boat. But through your eyes, glistening with tears, he sees the plan almost formed. Never has he been so grateful that his sweet girl could easily put on a brave face to handle anything, that you're used to using charisma as a way to fend for yourself, because that means success in the Capitol and you need that.

So although he wished your eyes had stayed on him, blessed him, instead they could do what he needed. Make you interesting enough for sponsors. He knew Conway deserved better, but how could he focus on him when you were right there? His sun, his moon, the stars in the sky, you were absolutely everything, so there was no time to think about what Conway deserved or didn't.

Finnick could easily craft your image to others. He was certain of it, he could sing your praises night and day, so it would be far from difficult to convince the Capitol that you were the model victor. If he had to grovel at the feet of every elite, let them damage his long gone sense of dignity, then it might be worth it for once. Your death would be the last piece of pressure on the dam before it burst open, he needed you to survive. If you won he could be with you. There wouldn't be any hiding because as a victor, Snow would already be finding ways to dig his talons into you. It was all worth it to be able to hold you again.

Finnick could watch every mechanical gear shift in your brain and fall into place. The way Conway loved you, which made Finnick seethe even if he'd always laughed it off like it didn't bother him in the slightest, was going to have to save your life. You'd hate yourself for it, but you'd hate yourself more if you didn't do everything you could do to be there for your family. The same family that you were convinced despised you, but you would spend every cent of victory money on doctors for your mother, or to make it so none of them had to worry about crabs ever again. Not as if that would be necessary, the influx of riches was so exorbitant no one really knew what to do with it once they'd helped those they loved and spoiled themselves sick. Regardless, if you had to step on Conway's head for them you would. Even if it meant the end of the friendship that had kept you afloat for years. Maybe you avoided home like the plague, but only after you'd worked to convince everyone you could sell out your booth. Finnick had always been in awe about how sweet little you could effortlessly piggyback on any information you had to make a sale, which was a largely successful method. If you won you'd have to focus your efforts on performing for all of Panem instead, but that wouldn't be an issue for you when your family would be safe.

Surely it didn't hurt that he was also on the other side of survival, maybe that was selfish for him to think about, but he hoped you knew he would take you back in a heartbeat. That every dream he'd ever shared with you, fantasy about your future, could be possible once you had that crown on your head. It would be full of trials and turbulent waters, but at least you could be together. So he watched as you forced your eyes to portray the gaze of a lover about to be ripped apart from her happy ending, the look you'd genuinely worn when he'd broken your heart. Conway seemed to know you well enough to understand that, but it gave Finnick pride to know he couldn't read you like a book, unlike him. At the end of the day that would be a good thing, at least Conway could die without his dreams of being loved by you being dismantled.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick should've known better than to fall asleep once you had. But it felt so normal to have you asleep on his chest. He was no stranger to nightmares, his or your own, it had become a constant present in your lives. Usually he knew how to handle them, but now it was a completely different ballgame. When you woke up screaming you didn't want his comfort, you wanted him as far away as humanly possible. Hitting his chest as he unwrapped his arms as quickly as he could to dart out of the room as fast as he could while the doctors flooded in.

“Just let him kill me." You were sobbing, curled back into the ball where your knees were pulled to your chest as you cried into them. A doctor tried to touch you and you instantly pulled away, like you were a wounded dog. Your hand covered your ears as you rocked back forth, and back and forth. “I need to see Conway." You muttered and then so lightly under your breath, “Conway, Conway, Conway."

“Angel, he's not here right now." He'd never be here, but further upset could be avoided.

You nodded slowly, “I need to see Peeta." At least that was doable.

“Tomorrow, he's been doing better, we can take you to see Peeta tomorrow." A doctor assured, no one wanted to sedate you again unless they absolutely had to, so this was much better.

“Promise?"

“We'll do what we can." She smiled at you sympathetically.

You slowly uncurled yourself from your ball, “Okay."

“Are you feeling better?"

“Yeah, I'm sorry." Thank god, no king crisis. Just a moment that had now passed.

“You're okay, just had a bad dream. Perfectly understandable, do you need anything?" You shook your head and the medical staff slowly began filing out.

“Can I stay?" Finnick's fingers found the rope to focus on. You looked at him for a second, like you were deep in thought, before nodding. So he took his place in the chair, “Do you wanna talk about it?"

“You should just kill me now." The words ran out of your mouth and made his heart drop, “I know you want to and I wanted you too. I probably deserve the uncertainty of when it will happen, but I'm selfish and just need it to be over with."

He wasn't sure if his heart had ever hurt more, but it was always reaching new levels of pain. “I don't want to kill you and I'm not going to ever.”

"You should. Even I know I should die, it's not wrong to admit.” You blankly stared at the glass in front of you.

“You don't deserve to die, you've done nothing with that. You've suffered enough to make up for whatever it is you think you did.”

"No I haven't, this is the universe’s lead up to it. I hurt him, the only person who really cared about me since we were children, and I tore him into shreds. It has to come for me.”

“Look at me.” You kept staring at the glass. Finnick's words came out harsher than he expected them too, but maybe it would mean they finally got through your head. “Look at me!” Finally you did, looking so startled and confused. "This karmic retribution fantasy needs to stop. It's been six years. I'm not telling you to stop hurting or that the guilt will go away, but it doesn't mean you need to continue to suffer or deserve death.” He leaned forward in his chair, "You used Conway, so you deserve death? You spent six years being used by any Capitol elite willing to pay. Being horrifically abused in any way imaginable. You got sent back into the arena! There was only one year you had a victor and she came out of the arena known for being ‘crazy.’ They sent you back into the arena to die and you didn't expect to come out of it. The Capitol held you hostage and tortured you. Have you not given enough to make up for what you did as a teenager? Conway, after six years, would have said it was more than enough to make up for a few weeks of deception. Even if this led to his death, because no matter what, he cared about you. He was angry then, but I doubt that in whatever happens after we die he's holding that grudge after watching you suffer for so long because he loved you. You don't want someone you love to go through something like that.”

You were sobbing again and Finnick felt his own eyes brimming with tears. “I miss him."

“I know, angel. I know." He would never be able to fill the role that Conway had and he'd long accepted that. All he could do was assure you that when I came down to the bare bones of it all, Conway as he was, wouldn't have wanted you to suffer as much as you had for it. Whatever punishment it caused had been more than paid and he would've known that. He would've told you that if he could. He'd been so angry in the moment, but Finnick knew Conway still would have loved you despite the transgressions in his heart and life because that had been his way. All Finnick could do was hope you didn't find a way to see what Conway would really say, in the near future, because then he'd follow quickly behind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, sorry this took so long, I've been very busy!! feedback, comment, likes, reblogs are all very appreciated. my ask box is always open and I loved answering them, requests are open and I've got some fics from them coming up after this. thank y'all so much for reading 💋

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[daisyjonesgf]

Damn yall please just let muse’s story end happily 💀

Anyway imagine Finnick and his sweet girl on her first night back in the district. I’d imagine she spent the night at Finnicks house rather than her own…hers was too big, too empty, the shadows looked like tributes…she just felt safer with Finnick…

idk if y'all not this, but I have a debilitating allergy to um happiness and joy, when I was born, they actually injected angst straight into my veins, so um, lore drop

anywayyssss yes sweet girl would definitely spend that first night, and most nights with finnick, but like moving into victors village it's great for her family but the house is so big and so cold and strange and she can't sleep anymore without horrific nightmares, so it's late at night and she's scared to sleep because she knows where it will take her and would come knocking on finnick's door, shivering in the cold. and no words even need to be said before he's letting her in, hugging her, bringing her to bed, wrapping her in his arms

"I know, sweet girl"

"finnick?"

"hmmm?"

"how do you do it? how do you sleep every night knowing what happened, what you had to do?"

"I don't know, at some point you just do. it's never good sleep, though, but at some point, none becomes 20 minutes, which turns into 2 hours, which turns into 5. and the world just keeps on spinning."

"do you ever just wish that it would be forever?"

"yeah, but not right now, not when I'm with you."

how I've missed my tragically in love pookies 😔