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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)
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ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ
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"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."
You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.
"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."
He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.
You exhaled sharply.
"Sixty seconds to launch."
You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.
"Always." He answered, a little strained.
And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.
Simple, simple, simple.
You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.
"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."
Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.
Eventually, you dived into the water.
Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water. 
"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.
You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.
"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"
"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?
You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.
When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.
The other tribute had died.
"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."
Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."
You nodded.
"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.
Carefully.
"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.
"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.
And you blinked in surprise.
"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.
"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."
The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.
"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."
You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."
You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.
"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."
You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.
With Finnick right behind you.
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Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.
You, yourself, didn't trust her either.
"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."
"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.
"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."
"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.
"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.
"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.
You counted three.
"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.
"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."
"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.
"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"
You, on the other hand, were not.
"Haymitch isn't here."
You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.
You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.
You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?
You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.
What about him?
"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."
"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."
"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."
Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."
"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."
Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."
You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.
"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.
"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"
At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.
Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.
"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.
"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."
A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."
Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.
You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.
One that made you look away — for some reason.
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"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.
"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.
"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.
"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"
"You saved him twice."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "
" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.
"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.
"It's — just an observation." He simply said.
But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.
"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."
Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."
Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.
"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.
"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.
"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.
Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.
"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.
"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.
Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."
"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."
Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."
Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.
And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:
Remember why you're here for.
— S.
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Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.
To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.
But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.
He didn’t approve of them.
How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.
With tridents, especially made for you.
So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.
You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.
One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.
But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?
You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.
No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.
And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.
Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.
“Run!” She yelled in pain.
Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”
Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.
“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.
Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.
“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.
For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.
After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.
After a few minutes, it eventually went away.
“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”
Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.
“I’ll do it.”
“I already got her.”
“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.
Giving out a warning.
The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.
“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”
After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”
Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”
You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.
And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.
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Author’s Note
I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!
With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!
@serrendiipty @avoxrising@queerqueenlynn
@darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts@stayc-a-I-m
@chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425
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tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake
@syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-
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how did it end? - taylor swift
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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)
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ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ
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"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."
You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.
"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."
He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.
You exhaled sharply.
"Sixty seconds to launch."
You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.
"Always." He answered, a little strained.
And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.
Simple, simple, simple.
You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.
"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."
Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.
Eventually, you dived into the water.
Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water. 
"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.
You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.
"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"
"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?
You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.
When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.
The other tribute had died.
"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."
Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."
You nodded.
"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.
Carefully.
"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.
"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.
And you blinked in surprise.
"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.
"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."
The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.
"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."
You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."
You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.
"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."
You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.
With Finnick right behind you.
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Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.
You, yourself, didn't trust her either.
"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."
"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.
"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."
"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.
"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.
"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.
You counted three.
"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.
"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."
"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.
"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"
You, on the other hand, were not.
"Haymitch isn't here."
You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.
You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.
You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?
You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.
What about him?
"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."
"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."
"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."
Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."
"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."
Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."
You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.
"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.
"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"
At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.
Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.
"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.
"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."
A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."
Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.
You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.
One that made you look away — for some reason.
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"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.
"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.
"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.
"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"
"You saved him twice."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "
" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.
"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.
"It's — just an observation." He simply said.
But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.
"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."
Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."
Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.
"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.
"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.
"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.
Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.
"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.
"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.
Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."
"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."
Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."
Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.
And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:
Remember why you're here for.
— S.
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Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.
To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.
But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.
He didn’t approve of them.
How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.
With tridents, especially made for you.
So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.
You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.
One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.
But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?
You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.
No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.
And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.
Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.
“Run!” She yelled in pain.
Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”
Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.
“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.
Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.
“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.
For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.
After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.
After a few minutes, it eventually went away.
“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”
Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.
“I’ll do it.”
“I already got her.”
“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.
Giving out a warning.
The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.
“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”
After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”
Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”
You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.
And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.
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Author’s Note
I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!
With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!
@serrendiipty @avoxrising@queerqueenlynn
@darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts@stayc-a-I-m
@chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425
@leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18
@maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-
tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake
@syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-
blog@meikoo@mozz-are-lla
@nomorespahgetti
@aestheticOcherryblossom
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anatay004 · 5 days
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I can’t! This song is sooooooo good. It’s on my mind everyday. Should I write something based on this for a character? 🍒
what if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (hes a fictional character)
105 notes · View notes
anatay004 · 5 days
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Why are six and seven of the Finnick story not up yet? I’m literally in shambles wanting to know what happens next 😭
Bestie, here you go 🫶🏼
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anatay004 · 5 days
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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)
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ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ
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"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."
You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.
"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."
He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.
You exhaled sharply.
"Sixty seconds to launch."
You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.
"Always." He answered, a little strained.
And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.
Simple, simple, simple.
You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.
"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."
Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.
Eventually, you dived into the water.
Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water. 
"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.
You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.
"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"
"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?
You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.
When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.
The other tribute had died.
"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."
Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."
You nodded.
"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.
Carefully.
"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.
"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.
And you blinked in surprise.
"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.
"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."
The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.
"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."
You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."
You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.
"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."
You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.
With Finnick right behind you.
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Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.
You, yourself, didn't trust her either.
"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."
"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.
"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."
"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.
"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.
"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.
You counted three.
"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.
"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."
"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.
"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"
You, on the other hand, were not.
"Haymitch isn't here."
You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.
You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.
You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?
You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.
What about him?
"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."
"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."
"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."
Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."
"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."
Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."
You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.
"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.
"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"
At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.
Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.
"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.
"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."
A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."
Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.
You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.
One that made you look away — for some reason.
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"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.
"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.
"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.
"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"
"You saved him twice."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "
" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.
"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.
"It's — just an observation." He simply said.
But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.
"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."
Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."
Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.
"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.
"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.
"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.
Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.
"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.
"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.
Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."
"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."
Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."
Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.
And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:
Remember why you're here for.
— S.
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Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.
To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.
But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.
He didn’t approve of them.
How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.
With tridents, especially made for you.
So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.
You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.
One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.
But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?
You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.
No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.
And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.
Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.
“Run!” She yelled in pain.
Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”
Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.
“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.
Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.
“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.
For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.
After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.
After a few minutes, it eventually went away.
“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”
Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.
“I’ll do it.”
“I already got her.”
“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.
Giving out a warning.
The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.
“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”
After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”
Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”
You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.
And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.
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Author’s Note
I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!
With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!
@serrendiipty @avoxrising@queerqueenlynn
@darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts@stayc-a-I-m
@chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425
@leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18
@maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-
tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake
@syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-
blog@meikoo@mozz-are-lla
@nomorespahgetti
@aestheticOcherryblossom
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anatay004 · 9 days
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Hi, I love ur Hunger Games fanfics. Can I request where like basically the In the movie, katniss Love interests is gale and peeta, but instead, the reader love interest is peeta and finnick. Like the reader lives in the same district with peeta, and then the reader met finnick in the games, and she falls in love with both of them...
Yesssss! Once I’m done with the ones I have on my drafts for sure🩶
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anatay004 · 3 months
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TAYLOR SWIFT Announcing her new album 'The Tortured Poets Deparment' at the 66th GRAMMYs (Feb 04, 2024)
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anatay004 · 3 months
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hey bestie so do u think u could possibly add some trigger warnings to that dark!spider-man post? i didn’t see it was dark and not to be that person but that would be awesome! ty sry bye <3
I do add warnings on the hashtags and highlight when some stories are 18+, but I’ll definitely keep this in mind and add more warnings, loveee! Thank youu🫶🏼
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anatay004 · 3 months
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𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 | 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 (part one)
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𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰: 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐫 — 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐲.
warnings: dark! Peter Parker, dub-con, sexual topics.
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"DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?"
Peter's head raised when the dulcet sound of your voice broke into his reverie. Instinctively, he tore his gaze away from the web-shooters scattered over the dining table to focus on you. You were walking into the kitchen, wearing his favorite sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, and your hair braided down to your back.
You were rubbing the sleep of your eyes when he beckoned you towards his lap and you sluggishly climbed on top of him. "What news?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
Your eyebrows knitted together when you registered the confusion in his voice. For being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, he sure seemed clueless. "About the alien?"
Peter frowned, tilting his head to examine you squarely in the face. "What?"
"It was all over the news last night," You explained, matter-of-factly, before reaching for the phone over the table. "I'm not sure where it came from, the reporter barely had any information at hand when I turned the TV on."
Peter's back straightened when you unlocked your phone and replayed the report for him. His expression was unreadable as he watched over your shoulder the video. You were right — it looked like an alien or some sort of mutation that seemed to have the strength to destroy everything on its path. He was rooming around the city of New York fugitively, climbing buildings and haunting people in the shadows.
Peter didn't say anything for a while.
"Shit," Peter eventually breathed out, tightening his grip around you. "I need to call Mr. Stark."
"How come you didn't know?" You whispered, looking back at him with an eyebrow raised. It seemed strange, you thought, that something like that would've gone unnoticed by Peter. "I thought you were on patrol last night."
"I was," He clarified, but something in his voice betrayed his words and you instinctively narrowed your eyes to scrutinize his features. "I was helping Ms. Chen. Some assholes mugged her store last night, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," You replied, before exhaling a quiet breath. Last night, between whispers and sweet kisses, Peter had told you about the incident. Apparently, some assholes had tried to rob Ms. Chen at gunpoint and he'd just happened to be around the neighborhood to stop it.
Sensing the sudden tension in your muscles, Peter rested his chin on your shoulder. "I don't want you walking late at night in the city anymore, okay?" His warm breath pressed against your skin as he spoke and, instinctively, you faltered at his touch. "Not until I find out who this new villain is."
You opened your mouth to protest, to blatantly point out that you had a life outside of your apartment too, but he was quick to interrupt you. "Please, baby." He pleaded, and your shoulders immediately slumped in resignation.
He knew how to get to you.
"Fine," You whispered, before climbing off his lap in evident annoyance. "But you're going to buy groceries this week, Parker. I hate getting store deliveries, they always mess up our order and then we have to — " But before you could walk any further into the kitchen or finish your sentence, a sudden web was shot towards your direction. Within a blink of an eye, you were pulled back into Peter's lap.
"Stop doing that — "
" — ask nicely."
"Or what?" You deadpanned, and your skin immediately peppered with goosebumps when Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Or else..." Peter trailed off, sliding his hand down to your thigh — teasingly, before giving it a slight squeeze. You winced back, instinctively, but didn't try to fight the grin that was curving your lips as he adjusted you further onto his lap.
"I have to get ready for the internship today." You reminded him when his lips trailed along your neck and his hands began to slide underneath the fabric of your shirt. "Harry Osborn is going to kill me if I'm late because of you again."
Peter threw his head back in annoyance. "Do you have to work at Oscorp Industries?"
You leaned back to look at him. "Obviously. Unless you want me to throw away a perfectly good opportunity to improve my resume and career.”
Peter audibly sighed.
It was more than evident that he wasn't a fan of you working at Oscorp Industries. You never knew why, Peter never bothered to offer his opinion on the matter because he didn't want to upset you. But you suspected it had something to do with Norman Osborn and the rumors that tethered to him regarding illegal experiments on his company grounds — where you worked.
"Fine," Peter mumbled, before withdrawing his hands from under your shirt defeatedly. "See you for dinner then?"
You kissed his cheek. "Of course."
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Peter never arrived for dinner.
It didn't bother you at first. You supposed he was running late due to his classes or last-minute patrols. So, you ate alone that night, showered, and changed into your pajamas to rest in bed while you waited for Peter to come home like every other night.
But he didn't this time.
The sound of the door slamming was what ended up jolting you awake the next morning. Instinctively, you turned on your side to search for Peter, but you were more than surprised to find the space beside you empty. You frowned, pushed onto your elbows tiredly, and turned to face the clock standing on the bedside table.
6:00 am
Why is Peter up so early? You wondered, before belatedly realizing that he'd never come home to sleep in the first place. So, you climbed out of bed and followed the sound of the door into the kitchen. And, soon enough, his frame stumbled into your bleary line of vision.
"Where were you last night?" You called out, rubbing your eyes tiredly as his back faced you. You should've noticed that morning — that something was different with your boyfriend, from the moment his muscles wracked with tension at the sound of your voice to the moment he'd refused to even look at you.
But you didn't, somehow.
"I crashed at May's," Peter replied — simply, before he spun on his heel and walked right past you towards the bathroom.
You blinked, unsure of what had just happened. No kiss? No good morning? No sleeping at home? The questions made your head reel for a minute — that was nothing like Peter. Had you done something to make him upset?
"What?" You eventually breathed out, before following his trail with a frown on your face. "Why? Did something happen?"
He didn't answer.
The bathroom's door was shut behind him.
"Peter?" You called again — softer. He didn't answer again, instead, you were met with the muffled sounds of grunts. Your heart skipped, suddenly thinking the worst. "Are you okay?"
For a few seconds, there was a strained silence in the room. You stood outside the door with evident confusion, calling out his name and knocking on the door for an answer. But, when it was more than evident Peter wasn't planning on stepping out of the bathroom any time soon — you picked up your phone and dialed May's number.
"Hello?"
"May? I'm sorry for waking you up, but did something happen with Pe — " Before you could finish your sentence, the door parted and your phone was snatched from your hands. A small gasp slipped past your lips, but before you could even react, Peter latched his fingers onto your wrist — signaling for you to stop whatever you were doing. "What the hell?"
"Sorry," He immediately apologized, loosening his grip around your wrist, but never letting go completely of you. "I — don't know what came over me. Just don't call May, please."
You looked at him for a moment, quietly examining his features as you tried to process the whole situation. You were pissed, it was more than evident, but the sight of fatigue that marred his face and the cuts that adorned his skin made you pause. And a wave of concern soon washed away the anger that sank in your stomach.
"Okay," You eventually exhaled, bringing your hand up to curve the side of his face with the palm of your hand. He leaned into your touch instinctively. "Tell me, what happened?"
And he did — sort of, explained the whole situation. Although you found his answer quite vague, he'd assured you that nothing serious had happened to him. He'd simply run into the alien that you'd previously mentioned the day before and things had gone array for obvious reasons.
"But...did you defeat him?" You asked skeptically, unsure of what to think when he'd dismissed the subject as nothing for you to worry about.
"Yeah, of course," Peter replied, sliding an arm behind your waist to pull you closer to him. For some reason, you didn't believe him. "I just...had a lot going on last night. I'm sorry I didn't come home, May's place just seemed closer at the moment. I'll call next time, baby."
You nibbled your bottom lip. It was more than evident you weren't convinced and that you had a lot of questions running across your mind. But you decided not to push the matter, why would you? It was Peter — Spider-Man, after all.
"Promise?"
He didn't answer, instead, he dropped his gaze down to your lips and kissed you.
As if he'd never done that before.
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You heard the news days later at work. You were having lunch with your friend, Gwen Stacy, at the cafe located inside Oscorp Industries. She was babbling on about how horrible her date with Flash Thompson had gone the night before when the news suddenly broadcasted on television.
" — Eddie Brock's death has been confirmed this morning. Earlier reviews of camera footage from the city have revealed that he was last seen fighting Spider-Man, who was not holding back and was seen violently retaliating..."
"Oh, my God!" Gwen exclaimed from across the table when the video of Spider-Man replayed on the screen. Your skin peppered with goosebumps when you caught sight of the images; there was blood — lots of it. The scene was violent, something you'd never witnessed before, with brutal blows coming from both parties; especially from Peter. Blows that you would've never imagined he was even capable of throwing.
It almost seemed as if he wanted to kill Eddie Brock. And the thought alone forced a shiver to run down your spine dreadfully. Oh, God, you suddenly wondered, did he kill him?
Bile rose in your throat at the thought, but you swallowed it down with great effort before mumbling. "I — I need to go..."
"What?" Gwen tore her gaze away from the screen, and concern quickly flashed across her face when she noticed your sudden appearance. "Oh, honey. Are you okay? You look sick."
"I'm fine," You assured her with a tight smile, before fishing for a twenty-dollar bill in your purse and placing it down on the table. "Actually, I have to go home. Something came up and I have to rush back, I'm really sorry..."
"Don't be," Gwen quickly assured you, throwing you a sympathetic smile. "I'll let Harry know you had to leave, don't worry about it, babe."
"Thank you," You breathed out gratefully, before pushing back on your chair and rushing out of the building in the direction of your car.
You arrived home in a matter of minutes, heart hammering against your chest as you unlocked the door to your apartment. Your hands were trembling and your eyes burned from the unshed tears that collected at your bottom eyelid, but you dismissed them as you pushed the door open.
"Baby, is that you?" Peter called when you stepped inside, and you followed his voice into the kitchen as his back faced you.
For a few minutes, you stood there in silence — watching him, examining him. As if you almost wanted to break him into pieces right there and then, only if so you could make sense of him. Was he capable of killing? You suddenly wondered. Was the sweet boy who'd once sworn to keep his hands clean suddenly gone? And if so, would you still love him the same?
Peter didn't take long to sense your gaze on him and when he turned back to face you, his features shattered into evident concern. "Babe — "
"— What did you do?" Your voice was low, barely a whisper as you interrupted him. At the sight of your distress, his eyebrows immediately knitted together and he stepped closer to your frame, but, to his surprise, you fell back a few steps.
"What's wrong?" He frowned, taken completely aback by your sudden behavior.
"Did you do it?" You tried again, voice rasped with a sentiment you couldn't even place into words.
"What are you talking about, (Y/N)?"
You took a deep breath, trying to stifle the cry that was threatening to escape your lips. "Eddie Brock." The room grew silent. "Did you kill him?"
Peter's face was hard to read. He was staring at you, but you weren't quite sure if he was even looking at you — his gaze was empty. You swallowed hard when he took a few steps closer to you again, but you were unable to move under his foreign gaze. He seemed like Peter, he sounded like Peter, but there was something in the tenor undertones of his voice that forced the hairs on your arms to stand up.
And you couldn't quite place a finger on it.
"Where did you hear that from?" Peter questioned, looking down at you cautiously.
"The news..." You answered, feeling painfully small under his eerie gaze. It was so intense, how he suddenly looked at you, eyes so dark and deeply focused on your face. As if he was staring into your soul, stripping the skin off your bones, and exposing you whole.
Your breath hitched in your throat.
He'd never looked at you like that before.
A dry laugh escaped his mouth and you shivered at the sheer sound. "And you believed them? You know they manipulate pictures."
Your mouth went dry. "I saw the videos — "
" — I didn't kill him." He cut you off, narrowing his eyes at you — as if you'd suddenly said something barbaric. "You know I would never do something like that, (Y/N)."
The tone in his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine and guilt immediately overtook your senses. For a moment, the videos that were broadcasted on television of him didn't matter. For a split second, his strange behavior slipped off your mind. For a moment, his words felt like gospel and you were subconsciously ensnared in.
He had that effect on you.
"I did get carried away," Peter confessed when you made to open your mouth again. "He was the guy that mugged Ms. Chen the other night and I was just so angry that I — " he paused, and sighed as he reached to curve the side of your face with the palm of his hand. " — I shouldn't have beaten him like that, but I swear I didn't kill him. I turned him in to the cops, actually.
You remained quiet but leaned into his touch. There were so many things you didn't understand at that moment. Like, for example, his peculiar need for justice, his evident rage, and the intense way in which he maneuvered around you. But, you supposed you had to trust him because he was Peter — your Peter, after all.
Wasn't he?
"Okay," You whispered, exhaling a sharp breath as you looked up to meet his gaze evenly. "Just...promise me it'll never happen again."
There was a moment of pause. "Okay," He eventually promised, leaning down to press his lips against yours softly. "I promise."
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Five days later, he broke his promise.
You were furious, pacing after him across your apartment for a coherent answer. Because how could someone just lose control like that? How could someone, who'd promised to never act like this way again, could have nearly killed another criminal without a moment of hesitation?
And for the media to see.
"You nearly killed him!" You argued behind him, as he walked into the kitchen — nonchalantly as if you were merely just babbling. "Why didn't you stop? You already had him, Peter. You'd already won!"
"You don't understand." Was all he said, before opening the fridge and reaching for a bottle of water as he dismissed you.
Your skin burned with rage as you recalled the videos that'd circulated on social media. "You act like you weren't caught on camera."
He pretended not to hear you, pushing past you without another word as he walked out of the apartment to start his patrol for the night. You exhaled shakily when the door shut behind him with a loud thud, wondering whether if the person losing their mind was you and not Peter.
Until the ringing of your phone broke into your reverie and your thoughts were pulled elsewhere. Instinctively, you fished your phone out of your pocket and glanced at the screen.
Harry Osborn was calling you.
"Harry?" You answered, evidently confused. It wasn't like Harry to call you in the middle of the night, especially on a Saturday night.
"Hey, doll," he replied cheekily, voice hoarse and engulfed in a familiar inebriated tone that made you roll your eyes.
"You're drunk, aren't you?"
"Kind of," He admitted, and you sighed audibly. "Listen, I don't really have a ride back home. Some asshole kind of stole my car...and my wallet...and maybe some of my dignity too."
"And you called me?"
"Do you want to get fired?"
"I could hang up, you know?" You challenged, not really in the mood to argue with a drunk. "Besides, don't you have like a million people at your service to drive you around?"
"Well, yes, but — " Harry paused, and you could've swore you heard him curse on the other side of the line. "I thought I could call a friend, okay? No need to be an asshole about it."
A smile curved on your lips. "We're friends?"
"I said no need to be an asshole about it."
"Fine," You sighed, subconsciously throwing your watch a glance. Suddenly remembering what Peter had asked you a few weeks ago. I don't want you walking late at night in the city anymore, he'd said. And you thought about keeping your word, but, then again, Peter wasn't really good at keeping his either. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Just send me your location."
Twenty minutes later, you were helping Harry Osborn into your car like you'd promised. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco, but you decided not to comment anything on it; it seemed as if he'd already had a pretty rough night on his own.
"Why are you so moody tonight?" Harry asked, after a couple of minutes in silence. You'd been driving with a pensive expression on your face, never really in the mood to follow his topic of conversation. "You're usually much more fun to be around."
"I'm not." You argued back, which was a futile attempt to turn the conversation elsewhere. "I'm just a little tired. It's midnight, remember?"
"Mhm," Harry hummed, before sluggishly straightening up to look at you in the face. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Shut up."
"Oh, so there is trouble."
You groaned. For someone supposedly drunk, he sure seemed shrewdly observant. "I don't want to talk about it. Pass out or something."
"Excuse me?"
You sighed again.
"Fine, there's no trouble in paradise," Harry corrected himself, but the mocking tone in his voice made you throw him a glare. "But, if there was trouble, I bet it's nothing a good night out with Gwen and I can't fix."
You chewed on the inside of your cheeks at his offer. To say it wouldn't be nice to consider going out with your friends for once would be a complete lie. Things had been pretty tough on you lately — with everything going on with Peter, and a nice change of weather wouldn't be too bad on you. But you knew it would only cause trouble between you and Peter, so, you decided not to jump on the subject too quickly
Maybe another time, you thought.
"Thank you, Harry." You eventually whispered, glancing his way, only to find him passed out on the passenger's seat after just a few minutes.
You didn't read the time or even realize it was past two in the morning when you eventually dropped Harry off at his penthouse. And you ended up accompanying him up to his room to make sure he was okay — which you found to be quite a handful task on its own, especially when you were the one carrying him.
Your phone was dead by the time you came back home, meaning that you were completely oblivious to the fifty missing calls from Peter or the commotion that was waiting for you back. So, imagine your surprise when you unlocked the door and stepped inside your apartment to find Peter already waiting for you.
Your eyebrows jumped slightly at the sight of him. It was more than evident you weren't expecting him to be there and he didn't miss that. He was furious, you could tell, by the way he gritted his teeth and looked at you. He was still wearing his suit, leaning against the doorframe with his mask completely off his face when you finally broke the silence.
"I thought you were on patrol — "
"— Where the hell were you?" He spat, and you winced at the venomous sound of his voice.
"I was helping a friend — "
" — Do you have any idea of how scared I was?" He cut you off again, taking a deliberate step closer to you. "I came back to apologize only to find you gone for two fucking hours! And you didn't even bother to give me a heads-up! I searched for you everywhere in the fucking city! And I called you a hundred times, why didn't you pick up the damn phone?"
"I'm sorry," You quickly apologized. You felt awful for not considering telling Peter you would be gone, but, in your defense, you never actually considered the possibility of him even coming back to apologize in the first place. "My phone died and I honestly didn't think you would notice with everything that's going on with you lately."
Peter stopped at your words. As if you'd suddenly slapped him hard across his face. "What?"
You nibbled your bottom lip, nervously, debating whether it was an appropriate time to touch the matter or not. "You haven't been acting like yourself, Peter."
Peter's face darkened. "I'm fine." He limited himself to answer, snapping his eyes to the side to avoid looking in your direction.
"No, that's not — "
"— We're fine, (Y/N)!" He snapped, and your muscles faltered momentarily when he latched his hand onto your wrist harshly when you reached to touch his face.
You blinked.
"We?" You repeated, subconsciously turning to look around the room in complete confusion. "Who's 'we', Peter?"
When he didn't answer, the hairs of your arms raised in concern. He didn't let go of you, not when you asked him to or when you tugged your hand back. For a moment, he simply stood there quietly, dark eyes boring into your own — drinking you in, and you shivered at the sight.
"Baby..." You breathed out, trying to break into his reverie until you were unexpectedly tugged forward without a warning. You gasped into his mouth when his lips crashed against yours painfully as if he was almost desperate to prove something as you stumbled back in surprise.
Subconsciously, you raised your hands to press them against his chest to steady yourself as he pushed you back. You winced into his mouth when you hit the nearest wall. "Peter..." You tried again, but he completely ignored you as he pressed himself against you. It didn't take long for you to falter under his touch, to return his kisses with equal fervour and allow him to trace your silhouette with his bare hands.
Erasing any remnant thought or rationality you could have possibly had in mind before.
You didn't notice when he hooked your legs around his waist and carried you into the room. When he tore apart the fabric of your clothes and his suit mysteriously sank back into his skin. When he pinned your hands above your head and used his strength to keep you in place — in whatever position suited him the best. Without considering the bruises that would streak your skin the next day.
But you did notice it wasn’t like him to make love to you like this — so desperate, like you could be gone at any minute. It wasn’t like him to push himself hard inside you, to suck the skin of your neck and make you whimper in pain. It wasn’t like him to make you come and continue to thrust inside your walls until you were on the brink of passing out. It wasn’t like him to come inside you (after what had felt like hours) and drop his weight down on you as his heavy breathing filled in the room.
To not whisper he loved you.
And toss to the other side of the bed.
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Sorry for the long wait on this one, I was literally adding and erasing parts because I wasn’t completely satisfied with the story😫 but, anyway, comments are much appreciated! I’ll love to read your thoughts on thisssss.
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anatay004 · 3 months
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mastermind is so good😭 i love the peeta inclusion so much. when do you usually upload more?
Thank youuuuu❤️ It usually depends on my schedule, I could post within a week or three, there’s no in between.
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anatay004 · 3 months
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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)
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ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ
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"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."
Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.
It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.
"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.
When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.
So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.
"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."
"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.
"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.
You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.
So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"
Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.
"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.
"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.
"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."
"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."
"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.
"Then why are you always looking at him?"
You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.
"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."
With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"
You pretended not to hear him.
"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."
There was a moment of silence.
Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."
Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.
"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"
Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.
"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.
"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.
This was not part of the deal.
Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.
You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"
"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.
"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.
"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.
Is it so bad to marry me?
Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.
"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.
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"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.
"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."
Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.
"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."
You took a deep breath.
Remember why we're here for.
"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."
Your head was spinning again.
"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.
You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.
And, somehow, Finnick did too.
"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.
"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.
But he wasn't convinced.
And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.
"Finnick Odair"
"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."
You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.
Remember why we're here for.
With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.
Remember why we're here for.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."
You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.
It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.
"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"
"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.
"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"
The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."
"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."
You blinked.
Once. Twice. Three times.
"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"
The crowd cheered.
"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."
Your mouth fell agape.
For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?
Was he even okay with that?
What the hell was he thinking?
"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.
"Are you really trying to have a baby?"
"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."
Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?
Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."
"You don't say."
You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."
"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.
As if he'd suddenly understood something.
"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.
"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."
To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.
"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.
"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"
You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.
All while Peeta grinned at you.
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"You should've told me about the baby."
Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.
Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.
Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."
"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.
"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"
You didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.
"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."
And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.
"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.
You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."
"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"
Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."
Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.
"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "
"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"
You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?
"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.
"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."
"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."
He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.
"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."
Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"
Your question made him swallow.
"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"
Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."
You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.
"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.
"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."
Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.
And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.
And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.
But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."
And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."
Your mouth went dry. "What — "
"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."
"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."
Your heart sank when he shook his head.
"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.
"We could win the games."
"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."
He was right.
And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.
And you didn't want to lose him just yet.
"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.
"Always."
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It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.
Finnick was gone.
Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.
“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”
“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.
“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”
Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.
For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.
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Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?
Team Peeta or Team Finnick?
Please let me know you thoughts
@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom
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anatay004 · 3 months
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i love mastermind so much!!!! it’s so good, your writing is amazing!! the angst?? THE LONGING?? even tho i love peeta, i would have to say im team finnick all the way 🫶🏻🤭💗
Thank you so much for reading, love! Comments like this simply make my day🫶🏼
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anatay004 · 3 months
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I’m feeling Peter Parker tonight (or tomorrow). Chapter One of False God will be coming soon… 👀
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anatay004 · 3 months
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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)
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ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ
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"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."
Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.
It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.
"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.
When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.
So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.
"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."
"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.
"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.
You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.
So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"
Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.
"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.
"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.
"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."
"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."
"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.
"Then why are you always looking at him?"
You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.
"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."
With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"
You pretended not to hear him.
"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."
There was a moment of silence.
Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."
Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.
"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"
Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.
"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.
"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.
This was not part of the deal.
Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.
You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"
"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.
"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.
"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.
Is it so bad to marry me?
Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.
"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.
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"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.
"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."
Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.
"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."
You took a deep breath.
Remember why we're here for.
"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."
Your head was spinning again.
"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.
You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.
And, somehow, Finnick did too.
"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.
"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.
But he wasn't convinced.
And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.
"Finnick Odair"
"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."
You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.
Remember why we're here for.
With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.
Remember why we're here for.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."
You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.
It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.
"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"
"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.
"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"
The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."
"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."
You blinked.
Once. Twice. Three times.
"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"
The crowd cheered.
"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."
Your mouth fell agape.
For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?
Was he even okay with that?
What the hell was he thinking?
"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.
"Are you really trying to have a baby?"
"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."
Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?
Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."
"You don't say."
You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."
"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.
As if he'd suddenly understood something.
"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.
"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."
To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.
"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.
"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"
You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.
All while Peeta grinned at you.
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"You should've told me about the baby."
Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.
Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.
Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."
"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.
"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"
You didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.
"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."
And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.
"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.
You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."
"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"
Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."
Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.
"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "
"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"
You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?
"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.
"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."
"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."
He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.
"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."
Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"
Your question made him swallow.
"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"
Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."
You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.
"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.
"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."
Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.
And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.
And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.
But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."
And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."
Your mouth went dry. "What — "
"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."
"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."
Your heart sank when he shook his head.
"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.
"We could win the games."
"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."
He was right.
And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.
And you didn't want to lose him just yet.
"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.
"Always."
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It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.
Finnick was gone.
Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.
“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”
“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.
“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”
Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.
For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.
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Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?
Team Peeta or Team Finnick?
Please let me know you thoughts
@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom
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anatay004 · 3 months
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like Usher said.. daddy’s home
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anatay004 · 3 months
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please rise for our national anthem 
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