#finnick fanfiction
Note
idk if you write for finnick.. but could you write something where it’s the beginning of the quarter quell and he can’t find her? Just pure panic as he runs around the cornucopia?
I’ve never written for him before but I love him! idk how I feel about this but I hope truly that u like it.
Icy hot terror is all Finnick feels when the timer hits one. Loud and disorienting, the bang ripples against the water in vibrations that rumble under his feet.
Where are you?
The sun blares disgustingly into his eyes and skin, an obvious manipulation of the gamemakers sick amusement, but he ignores it, plunging into the only water he’s ever dreaded to tread. You’re not in sight. He’d told you to stay away, to swim, to run as far away from the cornucopia as you could. Don’t risk it, he’d shaken your shoulders, listen to me I’ll find you.
The water is warm and gross against his skin. It’s not as refreshing as the district four that he’s familiar with. It’s hot and fake. He comes up gasping for air, letting the terror settle into his bones as he pushes against the current of a manipulated riptide. Katniss climbs the stone so he does too; pushing his feet deeper into the ground with every step he takes. His breathing is labored, jagged as he runs. He can’t find you, but he will. He can’t find you, but he can find a weapon.
The cornucopia glistens in the sun, never lacking the weaponry he’d expected from it. Bows, arrows, knives, he eyes a backpack stuffed with supplies. Could he lug it with him? Probably not. He diverts his eyes to the trident beside him. Perched in its stand, it gleams in artificial sun as the grip molds to his fingers. He squeezes the deadly lifeline.
The sound of metal on metal scrapes behind him. Katniss. He turns quick, flashing the bangle around his wrist tauntingly. “Good thing we’re allies, right?”
She breathes hard in front of him, eyebrows pulling as she pauses in bated confusion. The weapon doesn’t lower. “Where did you get that?”
“Where do you think?” He gravels, quick enough to be considered panicked. “Duck.”
She listens, dropping to the floor hard enough to sting the weeping palms she balances on. The sick squelch of his trident in the fallen tribute is covered by her hands tight over her ears as she waits for the boom. The gong sounds, and then a scream. An unmistakable scream. It settles in his stomach and throat thickly, sweating his already wet hands. You didn’t listen.
“Finnick!” The voice screams. Sobs. “Finnick! Finnick!”
The sound is nightmare-ish. Something the gamemakers could never manipulate that accurately, and deep down he knows it’s the sound you’ll wake him up from if you ever gets out of this arena alive.
“I’m coming!” His feet hit hard against the gravel as he sprints. His breathing dries his throat quick. “I’ve got you!”
“Finnick!”
“I’m coming-“
The moment skids to a halt as he finds you. Trapped in the arms of a larger, broader tribute, you struggle for air as he headlocks you. He considers doing something rash, but Katniss behind you shakes her head. Like she can see it in his eyes. It’s a slow, quiet moment, hunter quiet as she stalks closer. Finnick eyes her wary to give her away.
“We can talk about this.” Finnick rationalizes slowly. “It’s the beginning of the game.”
“So?” His arm tightens around your neck. Your squeak breaks Finnicks heart.
“Finnick.” You strain.
“Give the viewers what they want.” Finn pleads. “A show. You can’t kill her so quick.”
“I don’t see a bargain being made.”
A bargain? It’s the first ten minutes and he stands next to a gleaming cornucopia filled with sharp armory. He could get something better than a simple metal trident. Throwing knives, poison, a machete. Finnick suspects the victor is doing what he pleaded. Giving the audience a show.
“Take my trident!” He nearly crashes, cool demeanor dropping as he watches you tap the man’s arm in panic, your air slowly constricting. “Give me her.”
It sickens Katniss; the ability to kill someone for views. To feed into the capitals agenda. This is a necessary kill, she reasons, this isn’t for her own survival. This isn’t a selfish homicide; this is Rue in the net, Prim on the stage. This is the girl she could save. Katniss’ fingers loosen, letting the elaborate metal fly from her grip. It hits the nameless career in the back. Her target.
The moment slows in Finnicks eyes. Katniss stands far, arms hanging limply at her sides. She stares at him, grateful for the thankfulness in his eyes that eases her burdened chest.
“Y/N.” He gasps as the man falls hard on you. He runs, helping you from under the heavy weight. “I’ve got you now.”
“Finn.” You weep, hands in his as he lifts you. You stumble, crashing into him hard. He hears a sob in his tribute suit. “I’m sorry.”
“I told you to listen to me.” He doesn’t anger, but this feels close to it as he grips you tightly. “I told you to run.”
You heave, greedy for fresh air, but your lungs are infiltrated by the heady scent of salt water. His hand calms the coughs that rake through your chest, guilty for his scolding. It’s a quiet moment in the calamity of the bloodbath, a stolen moment that he can’t afford to prolong another second.
“Cmon,” He eyes you, hands cupping your face, then falling as he looks up to Katniss. “Let’s go find Peeta.”
#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick x y/n#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x y/n#finnick fanfic#finnick imagine#finnick fanfiction#finnick odair fanfic#finnick angst#Finnick hurt/comfort#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games fanfic#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x y/n
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Labyrinth - Finnick Odair
Warnings: mentions of blood, trauma and abuse.
Summary; when you're name is called during the reaping, Finnick promises to stay by your side till the end.
"I thought the plane was going down. How'd you turn it right around?"
Finnick Odair woke up in a different bed that morning than the one he would sleep in tomorrow. Not that he'd be doing much sleeping either way. He felt as though he never slept anymore, not since he was 14, not since before he knew how to kill.
It was engraved in his mind, and when he looked down, if he stared at them long enough, he could still see the faint outlines of blood on his hands. It would darken the more he watched, fingers flexing with the red paint that had once been a part of someone. But he always managed to look away, to push past it. He'd made it through and never had to go back, except in his nightmares and memories.
You had never once been in the games, and you never wanted to be. It was every logical persons fear, and even with a district full of careers such as the one you lived, you never saw the nobility in killing. In being killed. Finnick Odair was a victor, someone who too young, had done what you'd never dreamed of doing. He'd had his time in the games, and he'd made it out the other side, and just as the capitol had done, you fell for him. You hadn't intended to, and when he returned from the games you never thought to bat an eye at the boy, but he'd sought you out, and won your heart in some way.
And so began a semi-secret relationship full of late nights, long talks and long kisses. Finnick waking with shouts, sweating through the sheets, each dream he had plagued with the memories of what he'd done. Years finding themselves passing before you managed to get Finnick to open up about what happened in the games, and what was still happening now that he'd won. But on occasion things were sweet. Sunny mornings with Finnick's arm around your waist, his lips on yours and his signature smile shining through.
It was a similar warm morning on the day of the reaping. The reaping you still had to participate in, for one more year. The reaping Finnick never had to be a part of again.
The sun was beating down to your surprise, and there wasn't a cloud to be seen, unlike in previous years. It was as though the earth was giving you a sign, "you'll be fine, it won't be you, one more of these inhumane assemblies and your name will be gone from that stupid glass bowl."
That's what Finnick had said to you more or less. He'd gone to every reaping, even after he was safe from the things, and had kept an eye on you, like a guardian angel. It was almost as if when he was there, your name couldn't possibly be read out on that stage. Almost.
Finnick is more than sure his chest has just been torn open, the words a hatchet to his heart, digging deeper and deeper as the seconds fly past. He's bleeding out, metaphorically, on the stage at which he stands and never more than now has he wanted to burn said stage to the ground. He watches, for mere moments as you wander up the steps to meet him, the tears on his cheeks matching the ones on your own. The one he loves chosen as tribute for the games he had yet to escape. The games he'll never escape. He wants to shout protest, he wants to grab you, pull you away from all of it, but as the salt from his eyes meets his lips, he can only mouth simple words to you. 'It's going to be okay.'
He can't stop any of this, can't pull you from the games, but he can take the only risk possible. The one he was trained to, but never had to take. So when the name of district fours unlucky boy is called, Finnick volunteers. He still has a year of eligibility left, just as you do, and the tears that flow from him when you scream can't be forced to a stop. You're shouting as he steps up beside you, beating your fists against his chest as he pulls you in.
"What are you doing?" it's half scream half sob, your voice cracking with heartbreak as a man at the microphone announces the end of the reaping. "What are you doing—no, no he's not a volunteer, it can't work like that, it doesn't!" Your shouts are piercing, frown deep and secure, vision blurred by tears and pain. But Finnick has volunteered, and as the capitols golden boy he has no doubt Snow will allow the engagement. The president had been selling him off for support for years, and there was no way the white haired man was stopping now.
The peacekeepers by the edges of the stage moved forward like zombies, attempting to pull you from Finnick's grasp and take you to your next destination. But Finnick isn't ready either.
"Don't." His voice is full of force when the peacekeepers lay hands on you, "Give us a minute, just one." He doesn't expect it to work, you're still on the stage with him, the scene a public spectacle, though many of the people are being escorted away by now. Finnick doesn't know if the broadcast is still going, if the capitol can see just how much pain he's in, just how much hurt they've all caused. He can't bring himself to care either way. The peacekeepers, to his surprise, have taken a step back, though they're still close by. The doors to the justice building stand open, a dark yawning mouth waiting to be entered.
"I wasn't going to let you go in there alone." his voice is gentle, and he can feel his hands shaking as you pull back from his embrace. Your eyes look empty, broken in a way he's never seen them before.
"You made it out once, they won't let you do it again." your chest heaves with heavy breaths that you don't bother trying to suppress as the man you love brings a hand up to your cheek.
"I'm getting you out of this alive, I don't care how I get it done." it's a hopeless thing to say, Finnick knows that even if he were to get you out alive, you would still be subject to the suffering that comes after the game itself. "And when you get out," He's lowered his voice to a whisper only you can hear, his forehead pressed to yours. "you're going to get yourself far away from here. You're going to run and never look back. Don't take the house in victors village, don't take the money. Just run. You're going to run."
His muscles are tense and his heart pounds as your arms slide back around him. He hasn't lost you yet.
"We're getting out of this together, or I'm not coming out of the games at all." You mumble, voice still shaking against his shoulder. He hates the way you say it, like it's a definite that you'll both survive. That hope—the hope you give him—is deadly. But he runs with it anyway, despite his doubts and fears. It's all he has left, other than you.
"Together?" He tries for a smile, but it dies on his lips as the peacekeepers shuffle forward once more. Time is up.
"Together." You whisper back.
GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu @hiya-itsamber
HUNGER GAMES TAGLIST: empty
#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick imagine#thg finnick#finnick x y/n#thg#the hunger games#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair x you#catching fire#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick fanfiction#finnick fanfic#finnick odair fic#finnick odair imagines#finnick odair angst#finnick odair fluff#finnick angst#thg fanfiction#hunger games#the hunger games fanfic#the hunger games fanfiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#bosbas#sam claflin#finnick x you#hunger games finnick#hunger games fanfiction
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When the World Shifts (Finnick O'dair x reader)
Finnick O’Dair x reader
TW: It's about the Hunger Games, so murder, talks of death, Annie has panic attacks
This first part does not use Y/N, for the next part should I include it, or continue to disclude it?
No Betas, we die like Vikings.
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4:TBD
“On the third quarter quill game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” Snow continued his speech, but you stopped being able to hear it, his words turning into static.
“No, No, No” You hear Annie mumble. You turn to look at her as she starts to shake, and her mumbles turn to screams. She had covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut “NO, NO, NO!”
You wrap her up into your arms, stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort all while you felt the same. You too wanted to scream but screaming would do you no good and you knew this. You cannot afford to fall apart, not now, not with Annie here. The announcement of the quarter quell, that the 75th Hunger Games would be made up of victors meant your safety from the games was gone. You didn’t want to believe it, that it was possible, but Annie’s tears were enough proof for you to believe it.
Before you could think about reentering the games, you both jumped at the sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps running toward the room you sat in. You knew who it was, you wanted to get up and run to him, but you knew you could not let go of Annie. She clung to you as if you were her lifeline, and perhaps you were for the moment grounding her to remind her where she is something she cannot always tell. As the steps got closer you tried to think of what you should do, or say but there was nothing. The sound of the door being ripped open caused Annie to jump getting ready to fight an instinct all the tributes held. The other 2 victors of District 4 had entered. You turn to try and grab Annie but before you can grab her someone else beats you to it. Mags had her in her arms and started to sink to the ground with her as her cries continued. Finally being able to pull your focus from Annie you turn to look at the man who had yet to leave the entryway.
“Finnick,” you whispered the tears finally starting to fall “Oh Finnick.” You ran to him as he opened his arms to grab you. As you reach him you wrap your arms around him, and he mirrored you, one arm around your waist and one holding the back of your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. Your head was pressed to his chest and you could hear his heart racing, it was the only thing you could hear, even drowning out Annie who now was just whimpering in Mags’s arm. Your tears began to soak his shirt but neither of you cared about that. You did not know what to do, or what to say, so you just let yourself be held and pretend for a moment everything will be okay.
The night of the announcement was a whirlwind, the District 4 tributes all stayed together, few words were spoken that night, but many tears were spilled. You all held each other, only leaving to make tea, or grab tissues. The next morning when you awoke you noticed you were short a person, Annie and Mags rested together but Finnick was gone. You felt your breath quicken as you ran out of the room.
“Finnick? Finnick?” You tried to keep your voice low, you knew if you woke Annie and she heard you calling for Finnick she would panic again.
As you turned the corner you heard a response called from the kitchen “In here love.”
“Finnick you can’t just leave like that!” You scold him, voicing raising by accident. You take a moment to close your eyes and breathe, knowing you need to remain calm in the coming days, working yourself up would not help. “When I didn’t see you, I got nervous I, I”
“I’m sorry darling, I wanted to get the food ready before everyone awoke so we could eat it again you all wouldn’t have to worry” He explained.
You let out a soft sign, “ Alright well I’ll help you finish to make it go faster. Annie and Mags will be up soon.”
The two of you start to move around the kitchen together, moving in tandem to finish the breakfast he had started. It was simple food, only toast, and eggs, all of you so sick to the stomach over the news you would not be able to eat anything else. As Finnick worked on the eggs you put the toast in and started to boil water for tea.
You turn to look at Finnick trying to gather your thoughts “Finnick we need to start”
“Not now,” He cut you off “Let's eat breakfast first and wait until Mags can speak with us too.”
You silently nod, noticing his purposeful exclusion of Annie, and although you knew why it still hurt to think about. Annie had been doing so much better before the news broke, and thinking about how she was reduced to her state right after her games hurt you. She was like a sister to you, and seeing all her progress dissipate was almost as bad as the news itself.
You both simply look at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing but neither of you speaking it. The silence is broken by the kettle’s whistle, both breaking your eye contact to return to your kitchen task.
Eventually, you both gather the food and drinks onto a tray and carry it back into the room with Annie and Mags. You place the tray down on the table and go towards the duo. You first wake Mags, giving her a light tap which wakes her instantly. She never fully sleeps anymore always being ready to jump awake at any noise or movement. She looks at you and her eyes soften, expressing all she needs to say. Next was the more difficult one, you put Annie’s head in your lap and start to hum as you stroke her hair, slowly getting louder and louder. Eventually, she jumps awake instantly screaming squeezing her eyes shut.
“Annie, Annie, it's me” You plead to her
“No, no no!”
“Annie please open your eyes, it’s me, it's us.” You continue and eventually, she opens her eyes and sees you. She stops trying to break out of your arms, but her shaking does not stop completely. You then get her to sit up, keeping her between Mags and you and Finnick puts the plates down in front of all of you.
The silence continues as you all eat the food. It's difficult to swallow the food, every bite feeling like it is going to come back up, but you know now is not the time to starve yourself, not with the games looming overhead. Once you were all finished eating, you started to pile the plates but before you could bring them to the kitchen Mags took them from you to walk them back.
“I can,” you try to stop her, but she shakes her head to you. As Mags leaves you stand and then help Annie up. She was clearly still tired and although you have all been together, you don’t blame her, she had been tense the entire night. You bring her to the couch in the room and hold her hand until she falls back asleep. Once she was done you slipped your hand away from hers and let out a soft sign.
“We have to talk about this,” You tell Finnick, now that Annie is asleep you know you can no longer avoid speaking about the games.
“I know,” he replied, feeling the same weight as you. Mags then walks back into the room, and you all look at each other.
“What, what, what do we do?” You ask, looking at the other victors, unsure of where even to begin.
“We need to figure out who is going in.” Finnick responds “I am the only male victor, but the three of you have an equal chance of getting chosen.”
“We can’t let Annie go back in, she wouldn’t be able to handle it” you begin to explain “And Mags, no offense, but you cannot go back in there. You look so young for 80 but the other victors could be in their prime”
“No, you can’t” Finnick tried to argue but you cut him off.
“Finnick one of us has too, and I am the only one who stands a chance, you else? Annie can’t and I won’t let Mags.” He begins to open his mouth to argue but you don’t even give him the chance. “Finnick, please don’t argue with me on this, I won’t change my mind. Annie will need someone with her here, and I am the most capable in the arena.”
Finnick looked at you, battling with you without words until he eventually lost.
“Fine, but we stay together and you cannot put yourself in any unnecessary danger”
“Okay, and the same goes for you, we get out of this together.” You put your pinky out.
“Together” He responds, wrapping his pinky with yours.
#finnick odair#Finnick O’Dair#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick x y/n#finnick odair x reader#hunger games#the hunger games#annie cresta#thg#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick fanfiction#finnick odair imagines#the hunger games fanfiction#mags flanagan#coriolanus snow
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i need dad!finnick
he was literally born to be a girl dad
thank you for requesting!
oh and i named their daughter emma!
"Daddy!" As soon as Finnick opened the door, your daughter rushed into his arms, smushing her face into his thigh. His entire demeanour softened as he dropped his bag and lifted her into his arms, wrapping her tightly in them.
"Hi Em, baby," he murmured, his voice deep and gentle as he made his way over to you, lying on the couch.
Finnick then leaned over you to press a kiss to your forehead, greeting you as well with a soft, "Hi, honey," as you let out a quiet sound of appreciation.
He sat down next to you, shuffled slightly to make room for Emma in between the two of you. She whined a little and so did you when Finnick slightly moved, but he was just getting comfortable. He shot you an amused look and reached for your hand, grasping it tightly in his own.
"How was your day, sweetheart?" he asked, clearly to you, but your daughter decided she wanted to respond.
"'t was good," Emma whispered, her voice sweet and dripping with honey. "How was yours, daddy?"
Finnick looked like he was about to cry of happiness, his heart squeezing almost painfully in his chest. "It was good, honey, thank you for asking. It's better now that I'm with the two of you."
She smiled, so bright that it reminded you of Finnick's, and he mirrored her face on his own.
It wasn't long before Emma fell asleep, her head lolling against your shoulder. Finnick squeezed your hand before moving to get up, so quiet so that he wouldn't wake her up. He was back in a minute from her room, so you didn't have enough time to miss him before he pulled you in a tight hug.
He rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you softened in his arms as he massaged away all of the stress that had built up today. "You must be tired," he whispered, pressing bundles of kisses along your hairline. "How are you, really?"
"Mmm," you agreed, pulling away slightly from his chest to look at him. "Exhausted. But my day was good."
He smiled, a soft one saved just for you. "I'm glad."
#finnick#finnick!!#the hunger games finnick#hunger games finnick#finnick odair#finnick odair x fem!reader#finnick x reader#thg finnick#finnick x you#finnick imagine#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick x y/n#finnick fanfiction#finnick fanfic#thg x you#thg series#thg fanfiction#thg#thg x reader#the hunger games#hunger games#hurt/comfort#catching fire#fluff#comfort#comforting#fluff fluff fluff#dad!finnick
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Hostage - Chapter 4
Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader
Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for.
Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).
Word Count: 8.1 k
Previous // Next
Chapter 4
Breathe. Just breathe. Just like what Edna said.
The palms of your hands kept your face hidden. You were completely still, were it not for the trembles running along your spinal chord. Just remember what Edna taught you.
Almost as if your late mentor were in her flesh and bones standing in front of you, with her usual critical frown looking down at you, you tried to breathe. Mouth agape, you sucked in air, so much so, the oxygen filled your lungs.
It shoudn’t have surprised you in the least when the air particles felt heavier than normal, not with the countless times you were in this very position.
So hopeless, and so hurt. It was especially that, a thundering spark hit you straight in the chest and it felt like your heart had collapsed in surrender. You hiccuped more breaths, the unbearable pain swirling and expanding throughout your body as the air squeezed itself in the inflamed throat, a throat abused by what felt like multiples splinters penetrating the back of your tongue.
Oh, Edna, how much you missed her. She was everything you had. She was your warm home after a freezing storm, she was your teacher and caregiver, and she was your saviour sent for you to have another chance in life. That last thought hurt more, how much she struggled to raise you in such an unforgiving world, only for her efforts to be spent in vain. All the efforts she put into the woman you were now, all your knowledge, all your ideals, all your empathy; none of it mattered now when you would die out into the battlefield.
The Capitol were stripping away all of Edna's perseverance throughout her life. First it was the Peacekeepers trying to take down and dismantle Edna’s and your’s name, and now they were trying to kill all knowledge Edna curated through the only living and breathing version of her, you. Now, you were going to be gone soon. And when you’d be buried under the hard stones, so did everything Edna did to contribute to the world.
You gulped down a whine. Edna’s death was still submerged in your mind, like a hungry shark after smelling the most endearing blood drops scattered aorund in the ample sea. You still missed her, you longed for her heartily touch, for the cruel words that deep down you knew came from a place of love, for her warm presence against her cold facade, and you absolutely missed the way she looked at you, those blue greyish eyes that whispered doting poems about you in her head, never to be revealed and to be otherwise kept hidden hidden within her soul even in her deathbed.
You were squinting your eyes, just as another tear threatened to spill all over your burning face.
“Oh, fuck” you cursed between slow breaths. You went to grab the only thing that gave you comfort in that moment, alcohol. The wine was resting by your feet, camouflaged by your dark room.
It was dimly lit, only to be illuminated by a red lamp sitting by your night stand, whose light bulb also stemmed from the same crimson colour.
It was then you remembered the stories Edna used to tell you when it was past your bed time, and you supposed even in the surviving light of the already dark room, it would still salvage you from the night terrors.
You took a sip from the mouth of the bottle, and let the fresh liquid relieving your burning ache. The bottle was around halfway through, and you supposed you had a good resistance to it. That or your helpless body felt too overpowered by the grieving memories you still wanted to cling to.
Another gulp, you didn’t want to think of her, but how coudn’t you? Everything you built yourself up to be, every dream or moment of motivation was because of her.
You still wanted to live. That was what caused you most pain. Your pathetic mental state still whispered to keep going, to never give up in the face of danger. You still wanted to cure people, you liked that, right?
That was your role in the town, to heal anyone who needed it. The whole point of your little existence was to help anyone who neded some healing, no matter how insignificant it may be. And for what? Where did empathic heart of yours take you? Straight to your umbearable pain you’d have to endure in the arena, like a trident piercing straight to your unnerving heart.
You were nothing but a puppet to play with, and the more gruesome your death, the better. You coudn’t help your thought to follow that tormenting path. How would you die? Would it be just like what you had seen on the screen? A rusty knife to your neck? An arrow to your head? Or would you decapitated? You’d seen this when you were younger. You’d been barely ten then, and that’s the first and only time you had been able to see any scene from the Hunger Games.
Two more corners and to the right, that was the direction you had to take to get to the Herbal Shop, which meant you’d pass by the town’s plaza. You could only remember bits and pieces of the leading up, afterall your brain dictated that to be insignificant, but you fairly recalled that you were filled with newly cut supplies of essential herbs. Edna was by your side, she always was when she went out to collect her ingredients to make up new medicinal oils; maybe she always tagged you along with her to teach you, or just simply because she never fully trusted you to do the job by yourself correctly.
Walking by the familial streets, you would have ignored the otherwise lively plaza, often switching on any type of distracting sounds, and passing it by simple white noise. But this time, a foreign sound you hadn’t internalized took you out immediately, stopping in your tracks and following your head to see the unexpected commotion you never remembered seeing.
It was a loud shriek, the one only a mother could do while witnessing the torture of their own child.
She was many feet away, and you coudn’t quite see her face. All you had taken in was the how her lone sobs echoed in every corner and alleyway, just like a telltale from a ghost roaming the streets of your town in a hurry to find their already dead son.
It was in that moment you looked up, a big screen showing the livestreaming of the Hunger Games. You hadn’t seen the fight play out, and by the time your eyes took in the glimpse of what was performing, the Executioner’s act was done. There were two males, one whose hand held the axe of what sealed the fate of the deceased one on the floor, its head ditached from the rest of his body. You didn’t know from which District they were both, and you could only assume the decapitated one represented District 4. The other male, released his grip of his weapon and fell down behind him, retorting his facial expression in self-disgust, as he had sunked in the sin he just committed, just as the eyes of the one he killed, slowly faded into nothing but a vacant lot.
Edna pulled you by the sleeves of your soiled shirt, and muttered a “Let’s go” before the both of you left the mourning mother to be handled by a few passerbyers who seeked to give her comfort.
You nodded to your mentor, but your eyes still stayed on the mother crying out in pain, begging for whatever holy spirit to bring back her child in one piece.
That memory was connected to another one. It had been months since your first time ever seeing the cruelty of the games, and the memory was very much still in your mind, even more when you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. The first month was the worst, having to wake up from very real bloody images from nightmares and scared to even fall back as sleep in the terror you’d find them once again.
But after months you slowly got back to your usual self, one that mixed very well your constant exhaustion and your love to sleep as many hours as you could, without any type of night monster to invade your dreams.
So one day you came back to the Herbal Shop after being ordered to go and buy ingredients that were going to fill your bellies for the week. You asked Edna something that the older Carriers said in passing.
“If I were to be decapitated, would I live for a few seconds more before I died?” that was your question. “Sometimes” was what she answered. “In some scenarios, you could take up at thirty seconds whilst still being alive, even without having your head” she developed further her previous answer.
Did that mean that was a possibility for you? For you to still having to feel that uberable pain of a stranger sawing yout head off, in those slow and excruciatingly painful thirty seconds? You hated thinking about this.
And there went your third gulp of the wine, all so you’d drown yourself in misery. You appreciated the sparkling of the wine, popping bubbled bursts against your blocked off despairing throat.
You thought of her again. You stopped your movements, not even the beverage was keeping you from thinking about your dead mentor. You set it down back to its previous place, next to your feet. Your fingers traced up every cell of your face, and stopped to rest you palms on your forehead. Your fingers snaked to to find a comfortable place just by the front of your hairline. And you cried, you couldn't do anything but cry out in pain.
“Edna” you whined so high pitched you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your cries and breaths stayed in that unnatural tone you had imposed yourself. Breathing hesistantely and desperately, while trying to taking in as many puffs of air as possible, and yet it was never sufficient for you. Your humid lashes found themselves completely wet, as waves of tears swam across your hot cheeckbones.
Your eyes we tired, but at the same time, not tired enough for your depressed form, and definetely not tired enough for your cries to bounce from every sharp corner of your room.
A hand clasped around your shoulder. You were so deep into your own wretched form, you hadn’t noticed someone just came in. A thorn of embarrassment prickled your skin at the thought of someone seeing you cry as uncontrollable as you. And even if that thorn hurt you, there were still a million more stuck in the pores of your back from each and every mistake, regret and mourn from your years lived in your short life, it was easy for your to quickly ignore that one.
You had been told that the walls were soundproof, that no one would be able to hear a peep coming from inside. And after Scarlett’s big talk about the trust she had in the technology of the Capitol, about just how “Top notch” the privacy was. You willingly gave into her prideful mouth, without considering the little fact that the door may be easy to acces in. Naturally, you felt ripped off, privacy my ass.
Mags’s fingers snaked her way up your face, like a snake in the name of retribution, and changing their biting nature into something calming and sweet. She moved your face to hers, and the sweetest smile decorated her pretty wrinkled lips.
“I’m fine” a hoarse breath left your mouth. Those words you kept repeating again and again, today. A lie that didn’t even convince your stammering mind, which was soon to be lost in the gray anyway.
“Really…” you tried to persuade Mags, although the undertone was still directed in reassuring yourself. Because you were the only one who could keep you in check, you were the only one that was able to comfort yourself.
The elder simply looked at you for many seconds, an intense glare slowly finding the cracked pieces of your irises you had worked so hard to hide them to the rest of the world. And this truth, only hurt Mags more.
You realized the woman sitting beside you wasn’t just a person of a few words, but rather she never said anything. And even as silence prevailed your saddening room, she very much felt present in there. Her comforting stace eased the nauseating pain you were enduring all by yourself.
Her fingertips drew a ticklish circle around your cheek, and pushed back a string of hair behind your ear. The action itself whispered sweet nothings, affectionate acts in the form of unspoken words, all because of her empathy towards you.
She always was persistent with herself, if she were to be mentor of many fallen Tributes, she would still lift her head high and carry on her duty as effectively as she could. Especially considering Finnick returned from the arena, it was then, she was sure she wanted to learn about the people from her District, and wanted to see them grow as adults, no matter how slim their chances of their survival actually were.
A wider smile. The wrinkles that stayed in her face, the lines of a visual representation of her old an frail body, and yet still peaceful and optimistic in the face of the cruel fate of this world.
Another glint of hope came across her eyes as her hands moved down to your back, while the other stayed at the side of your face. The exhaustion from your long day finally crashing down, and you felt the weight of your head leaning against her smooth palm.
“Edna… She was my teacher…” You explained to Mags. It wasn’t like she had asked you personally, but you felt like you had to get it off your chest. Maybe it was from your tiredness, or perhaps you simply just moved another stage of vulnerability with Mags, but your fuzzy mind gave up on the idea of trying to switch topics, and for the first time, you had found yourself someone who was more stubborn than you.
The elder was in a way familiar with the way she tried to comfort everyone she deemed necessary for her reassuring eyes, but she was nothing like Edna. Both of them were total polar opposites, but even being so different from each other, you found a piece of Edna inside of her, the sweet motherly care of helping the younger folks, to be present in their good, bad, and their dirt. Even being so different, they still fell under the same identical box, they showed them this delicate and vulnerable side, even to the people outside their family, to total strangers that were goners.
You coudn’t stop once you started. Mags never gave a hint or indication she had asked for the identity of your passed mentor, or what it had meant for you for so many years. But a little voice whispered your brain to keep going, and let our your innermost feelings run wild instead of keeping it hidden for so many years like you had.
“She found me when I was four. And she took me in” you cracked your voice. The spilling tears were dampening Mags palm, squeezing themselves between her fingers and flowing to her wrist and down her arm. God, this was painful. You felt absolutely naked right then, so see-through to her, so vulnerable you could be stomped in any minute. Like a little lost kitten scared of the wide world. You didn’t like that, it was foreign and it felt very much out of your own control. But the demanding sensation only kept resisting against your opposing thoughts.
“She didn’t have to, but she did. And for that, I’ll be in forever debt with her.” you sobbed harder, trying to hide back a cough from your raging salty tears streaming to the corner of your mouth, following further into your inflamed throat.
Mags only looked at you, a sad smile hanging from the rest of her melancholic expression. You scanned her features more, from her sypmtathetic eyes to her nose and mouth, tracing her face with your very red and traveling eyes.
You looked back up at her eyes, just as if they were calling for yours. Begging you to look up at her calming ones. You almost skipped a beat, feeling like something with heavy weight crashed down your heart. Her eyes were filled so many different things that would drive you to the edge of a cliff, to submerge further into the depths of the salty foam you were growing used to. She showed a vulnerable side of her, or perhaps they were telling you, you were safe in her arms and gaze.
But the thing that startled you most, was her dearing gaze to you, filled with the honey-love you grew distant since Edna’s death. Something you thought you forgot, and you never imagined Mags would be the next person to give that to you. It shocked you for a second, all because you had confused her for Edna for a moment.
“Oh, Mags” you cried lowly. You swung yourself to you new mentor, wrapping around your arms around her frail and much smaller body. You found stability by the back of her neck, leaning deeper into her touch. You didn’t want her seeing you so broken down and depressed. You didn’t want to have see her roaming eyes promising you a new home you could stay the night. You hated it, because everything Mags did, reminded you of Edna, and the hurt that came from her returning image clasped in your tumultuous mind.
Mags just grabbed your scalp and drew lovely circles around it, keeping you closer to her. The helpless you, coudn’t help but sob harder against her shoulder, screaming out the pain you kept hidden and locked away from everyone else to see.
Maybe tonight you’d stay by Mags warm house. In a way, it made you feel closer to Edna, or at least the presence she left on earth. The ghostly finger touches you had oh so missed trailed up your back, and it turned your hair on end by the vertical column, just as if the spirit of Edna was standing beside you, wanting to give you the touches she missed giving you. Yeah, you’d stay by Mag’s tonight.
Mags was resurfacing nostalgic memories of Edna, the ones you missed the most about the time you had spent with your mentor together. And maybe for tonight, you’d stay by Mag’s to feel closer to the ghost of the person you loved the most. But only for tonight, because you knew too well it was not worth getting used to someone’s love too much, not when your days alive were numbered.
Your senses were completely numbed, aside from that disgusting taste in your tongue. You coughed up some more, while your eyes swelled up with tiny prickly tears. They didn’t come from sadness, but from an overexertion of your body. You felt like your face was stomped by giant feet, just as you tried to squeeze your throat to purge the remaining acidic vomit.
And once your started, you coudn’t stop the little squirts exerting out your tongue. You coughed again, your hand gripping tight onto the toilet cover that was leaning up. Its not like it was dark, the automatic lights had found your clumsy movements the very moment you had walked into the bathroom, and in the sheer brightness of the room, the was lamp neatly placed on the middle of the ceiling.
The shining light was betraying your vision by the sheer brightness in the middle of the dark night, and you thanked that your head was covering the main source, otherwise the lamp would burned right behind your pupils. And while you were only able to squint just slightly your eyes, you could very much take in the piece of art of your vomit right in front of you.
An escaped grunt hoarsed through every vocal chord you could muster, the sight of the shortcakes you had to expulse from your belly, as a means to get rid off the alcohol in your system. You lamented then, having to see the mushy lumps of a pale yellow colour that left you as equally revolting in both your mouth and sight.
You closed your eyes in exhaustion. You were in a horrible state. A line of saliva, slightly pigmented of that horrible color, travelled down to join what used to be the delicate food of the Capitol. You spat down into the toilet a few times more, desperately trying to take away the acidic taste that seemed to only grow stronger by the second.
Your hand traveled wobbly to get toilet paper. It clanged and banged everywhere before achieving the simple task of getting something to clean yourself up. You gripped onto the piece of paper and fastly brought it up to your mouth.
The claustrophobia from the tiny compact space you locked yourself in was starting to eat your soul away, and you let another blasphemial word as another of the many waves of nausea hit you point blank.
A flashing light filled your sight for barely a second, knocking yourself to the side of the toilet. You recomposed yourself, at least tried to by using the wall to lean your back with. And all because of the rapid movement of snatching away the toilet paper so your fingers wouldn't get lost in the way back. You were in a horrible state.
Your fingertips brushed past your lips against the thin layered paper, in hopes it would take away remains of the vomit scattered around the corners of your mouth, your mind was too fuzzy to even deal with the possibility that your clothes may be stained by the disgusting substance. All the while, cursing at yourself for the moment you had the genius idea to drink as a means to ease your depressive state.
Another spit joined the purged covered inside of the toilet bowl. More tired breaths ragged around in the air of the bathroom. Anyone would assume you had run away from an angry bear with the determination filled in her mind of protecting her cubs. And while you were trying to escape her grasp, the mother bear saw the opportunity for their next meal in you; of course, this would have been an interesting anecdote, if it weren't for the fact that you never came across a bear in your life, with the addition that you were in a slightly different situation, a story that had to do with decorating with putrid the inside of the toilet.
You threw away the stained paper, and flushed it. Earning a mentally pat on your back, no matter how silly, you were proud you were able to do that much.
Next step, you needed to leave the bathroom. You managed to get on your feet by gripping your hand onto the sink. Somehow, by using your whole force of your nonexistat tricep muscles, you got up in a stamering manner. Moaning after noticing your legs were trembling
Your feet had a big gap in between, and you once again cursed, this time outwardly at the sudden realization, your drunken legs refused to move accordingly. Just as if they had a brain on their own, and claiming they were to tired to do the task, and completely shut off. You coudn’t feel your knees, and that was good indicator, that your legs were going to be really difficult to handle for your mission, which consisted of making your way to your room.
You coudn’t believe your head was the most sober of all the your body parts, and now you had to manage your disoriented legs that didn’t seem to know from left to right.
Another flash of nausea slapped you across the face, leaving your head hunged low. You were glad your hands were still holding onto dear life to the sink. Otherwise you were sure you would have fallen face down to the pretty white tiles of the floor. And you would have lost some teeth for sure, you drunkenly thought.
This was a bad idea. You moved your head to see your own reflection, but you coudn’t. Everything was just jumbles of your eyes and mouth disorderly moved against each other. Even when you concentrated your glare to see yourself in the real you, what reflected back seemed the picture drawn by a small infant with no sense of direction or scale. You were absolutely wasted.
You groaned at your clumsy eyesight, and the more you seemed to curse at yourself, it became more nervous, and the moving images became more agitated. You blinked slowly in the low hopes it would help your vision to become more stable.
“Fuck…” you hoarsed out. The alcohol was still burning you in your veins. You had gotten to the bathroom to take out the uncontrollable depressant. But even when vomiting it out, you soon realized you had gotten worse, and you groaned at the idea that maybe pure alcohol filled your senses now that your only source of food was gone.
“Shit, fuck” you continued on, you didn’t know what else to say but curse at everything, and especially at yourself. You just needed to get to your room, it would take twenty steps at most. You gulped down hard readying yourself to do what seemed the most difficult task known to mankind.
“Just twenty steps” your words jumbled around in the thin air, the nonsense of what came out of your vocal chords were soon lost anyway. You sighed, and your eyes locked onto the door handle, or at least the best it could with your drunk eyes. With a mental slap on the back to fill you up in determination, you found your target for your next move.
You counted to three and jumped to your target to find stability from your lazy legs that didn't want to work. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, which was probably from the nausea disturbing all your six senses. A despairing emotion run along with the intoxicated drug in your veins; just as you brushed past the shining metal handle, so close you could feel the cold emanating from it, someone opened it before you could even touch it. And that was enough for your body to try and convince your stubborn mind to simply give up.
You fell down, just by the feet of a person you coudn’t help but feel nothing but resentment. Your head was out the doorway, in full view of the dimly lit salon car.
Your already migraine got worse from the impact, and now you had to deal with not only the internal pain from your head, but the external one as well when your forehead took the blow to the floor. And for once you thanked you were so out of your own control. Your banged forehead’s pain was already fading away, and you knew if you were completely conscient that would hurt like a rock throw straight to your body.
But in good, there’s bad, and so another complication filled you up. Your head was spiraling and seeing a million stars that were already confusing your already messed up head.
You simply stayed still, just as you mentally wove a white flag to give up on this impossible mission.There was no way you’d make it to your room in your condition, especially not when your body remained on the floor of the bathroom. Your body ceased all the strength your brain kept ordering, and even when pressuring them to do their job as your limbs, they were on a strike and refused to even want to move an inch by the nauseating exhaustion.
You heard a low chuckle, and you felt it was within your right to feel at the very least annoyed by whoever that was. Your brain was multitasking at this point, and was ready to retort something sarcastic back, but you coudn’t. You body was starting to get comfortable in the position it had taken in your fall, and to your head’s dismay, ready to slumber for the night.
So you closed your eyes to rest, the thought of another person present already erased by your tiredness. Just as you drifted to sleep, the repeated words you wrote in your mind over and over again, as a means to make sure your remembered your lesson would cling to you. Never. Again.
That person though, didn’t mind your new sleeping bed, and got down to your eye level. A shit-eating grin among his pretty features. God he was so gorgeous even when you coudn’t see his face straight, all in crazy hazy motions swirling around your vision, you could only but daydream about his outstanding beauty.
“You alright there, love?” his raspy voice came in contact with your ears. He was like a beautiful god, one that anyone upon seeing him could agree was the definition of a sculptural piece of art, the type of god that could ask anyone to join him in his darkest desires and anyone would accept without hesitation.
He was any girl’s daydream man, but in that very moment his, awoken and overly energetic presence, frustrated your sleep deprived muscles. You groaned at him in response, too out of reality to even care. The mix of your drunk noises and the blocked sounds through the tiles of the floor, because you were still face down, only amused Finnick further. “What was that? Couldn’t quite understand you” he teased next to your limp form.
“Wha do chu think?” you spit back at him with slow syllables. “If chu could felp, thad be gret” you struggled to say the words. And you were sure they sounded worse in the ears of a sober person who wasn’t going through a hell hole like you were.
You tried to move your head on the side, all to give him the privilege of letting the man in front of you, hear you better.
He could only chuckle more at that. Even in your drunken state you could still see the lines of his smile, and for a moment you thought you were in a some sort of dream. There was no way someone that beautiful could exist, and it became stranger to you when he was simpy talking to you normally. Another drunk thought passed by your mind, and you were sure if he wanted to, that smile could be the tide to end all catalystic world wars. You were in a trace, and rightfully so, it was impossible for anyone not to fantasize by a guy like him.
You wanted to touch his face, but your fingertips stubbornly stuck themselves to the floor. Then it dawned on you on a mortyfying fact, you were in the bathroom floor, face down after just vomiting, and very much ready to sleep in there, until morning shined bright throught the windows.
Well, that was embarrassing. And you had to slap yourself again within the depths of your consciousness.
“Here. Let me-” he cut himself, and you felt his creeping fingers walking over you waist, so light and ticklish, that even after being so numb you could feel this featherly touches. His built body may be seen to be hard, which probably was, but you found yourself learning he also could be as soft as the dry falling leaves of fall.
His hand gripped onto he corner of your waist, and after placing your closest hand over his neck and hook it around the arch of his shoulder by the side of his face. Letting out a shaky breath, he helped you up after exercising his muscles with the weight of your corpse.
But even so, you were fascinated just how he was able to lift you up in your silly body. This was most girls deepest desire, and you had to suppress a giggle from forming in your heart. All the while he was holding you in that hypnotic state. It was hard for your mind not to linger anywhere other than him.
Your feet touched ground and you were extremely thankful to find the contact of the tiles at the flat of your feet. Your heavy head hunged low. You made a move to look up at him, and he was still holding onto your waist, untrustworthy of your senseless state.
You were sure he squeezed at your side playfully several times. It felt oddly affectionate, but for your hazy brain, it translated that and got even sleepier by those light tuches.
“There you go” he whispered at the side of your face. Unknowing to him that he left a burning mark right on your flustered ears. An inflaming sensation traveled along your every bloody vein, making it a more vibrant red, more colourful than what’s supposed to be. The living corpse of your body felt very much ligher against his ticklish fingers, like a flowing feather through the wind. Both of your irises met his, and his close proximity left you in the silence of your shyness.
He let out a husky giggle out at your expression. “Don’t look at me like that. Might start thinking there’s something deeper you want to tell me” he mumbled with a cheeky grin along his lips. His teeth were out in the wild, white and as strong as his unfiltered words.
Oh, how it irritated you his smuggish intention; but how much you loved seeing his lovely face complexion just the same. You coudn’t deny it, and he wasn’t blind either, he knows just how everyone looks at him, Finnick was built like an ancient Greek god.
You tilted your head to the side, this time careful not dragging yourself yet another nauseating impact from the sudden movement. You spoke some drunken mutter that was difficult to understand, so much you had confused yourself as well.
“You’re so pretty” you repeated those words that were incomprehensible for the English language. But Finnick had understood you the first time, and so when you confirmed for a second time, he was slightly taken aback from the boldness of you words.
Your constant thought pattern whenever you thought of the man just beside you, never came from a place of infatuation, and he could feel it in the way the sclera of your eyes shone, and the way you mustered those words, it was from utter fascination, not so much from than seductive desire.
A laughing huff escaped though his lips just as a giggle rang through his vocal chords in amusing disbelief.
You eyes pierced his soul. The intention of his words came rather late to your consciousness, and you blamed the alcoholic drink for the slow pace of your current thought process. And you made yet another mental note, never listen to Scarlett’s recommendation of especially alcoholic drinks, in the off chance that the concentrated drink’s percentage would be through the roof. Really, never again.
An annoyed puff forced out of your mouth. His mocking laugh felt unnecessary to your ears, especially in this vulnerable position you just got in. You moved your legs, and you were glad they had properly woken from the sleepy illusion from a minute ago. You moved forward, at least tried to, and away from his presence.
You reprimanded the alcoholic you. The drunk you seemed to more jumpy, and let off harmless confessions. It was obvious the wine riled your sensitive senses up, especially when they learned from your little secret of your physical attraction of the the one and only, Finnick Odair.
The drunken you had declared your concient mind’s sole enemy; as sneaky as a scorpion, camouflaging itself as to get unnoticed, only to strike you when you were in your most vulnerable, which meant targeting the very much good looking man close to you. Yeah, you were convinced the drunk you had something agasint the concient you.
“Anyway. Tanks, an Goodnight-” You spoke best you could, and made your way ahead of you.
You tried to walk away, before yet another disastrous fall. The drunk you had definitely had something against you. Your legs seemed to twist themselves into a senseless knot from your numb knees and before you could even recognize the problem, your vision fell apart instantly. Again another wave of nausea punched you straight in the jaw. Luckily your quick hand grabbed onto the wall next to you, refusing on having to deal the earlier’s ordeal.
You cursed out again, followed by a groan in pain. Your hand crept to the side of your head to try and keep your vision still in vain. God, you absolutely hated this.
Another low chuckle from the man behind you was present in the air both of you breathed in. And you turned around, a disapproving glare threatening him to keep going on his laughing spree, which only made him find you all the more amusing.
You sighed defeated. A pointed migraine was swirling in the sea of you mind, which in turn only made the grip of your hand stronger in your face. You scrunched up your nose in pain, crumpling your features.
Just as you were losing yourself from the pain of your headache, you body got completely readjusted. Your burning head very much still present and screaming for your attention, and if it that wasn’t hard enough to deal that alone, your mind got once again disoriented. After tonight you knew, you would definitely quit alcohol altogether.
All your blood crashed down to your head, leaving you with a pressured face, and it was starting to feel painful. God, your brain was suffering from all stages of Hell all at the same time. The pain was overtaking your body, and you ceased all your movement. In that very moment you welcomed the idea of dying if it meant stopping your outstanding headache.
With your head low and you arms flying over them, or better said below them as gravity did its work , you noticed the pointy bulk of muscle was just below your breast, and you figured Finnick had to be securing you with his arm over the back of your knees.
Finnick seemed to have the brilliant idea to throw you over his shoulder like a big heavy sack of dead fish ready to be sold off to the market.
Your hands fell to whatever thing you could find, which happened to be his shirt. You had figured he had manhandled to be in that position, because of the way your nose and forehead kept making contact to a broad smooth surface, one that emanated sweet warmth, and you could drown in his natural thick scent.
It had been barely half a minute, although for you it felt almost like an eternity from the succumbed curse of the ugly pain in your head, whoose fault was none other but the man holding you tight over him. It’s not like you put up a fight anyway, already too weak and defeated to even flinch at the scorching hurt.
So you welcemed the sea of covers and pillows when you were plopped down all of a sudden. Your before hurting eyes that you could barely manage to even open them, felt confident enough to redo the task they weren’t able to do a few seconds ago, and you looked up at the ceiling.
You were safe now, you were safer in here. Even in the amidst of your spiraling mind, you could that much, feel relaxed enough to ready yourself to soon sleep. You didn’t need to dance in utter misery of your drunken state like before, like a blind duck that also happened to have twisted his ankle.
The new room also brought short nostalgic memories, which evaporated the little optimism you would have gathered before you died, and who knows, maybe it would be the last time you’d feel truly at peace. The new ambience still had that heavy sour mood from when you had talked to Mags, from when she had to comforted you. The suffocating air was still like a toxic gas, and you regretted that you still let the melancholy poison you.
Finnick sat down beside you. A smirk creeping his beautiful facade just as he looked at your form, still in his playful mood after having you found on the floor almost passed out. It was amusing in a way, it had to do more about the way you responded to him that entertained him to go further in his banter.
He quickly took notice of your sudden somber expression, and with that the bits and cracks that you body spoke. The energy from before was all but gone now. Maybe you were emotional because you were drunk, but in that moment you were ready to cry off yourself to sleep in self pity, right then and there with or without Finnick.
You curled your arms around yourself, trying to imitate the warm hug that Mags had given you earlier, but to no avail. It was impossible for you to even recreate a feeling that felt soul crashing from such a simple act. Because afterall, it was something that had left you taken apart so easily.
You bent your knees slightly up. You were lying on your side, and Finnick could feel the mournful look without the need to see your eyes. But when he did, he heard the breaking crack of his heart. That hurt had haunted him since the day the Reaping when it took him two years ago.
“Thank you” you muttered with the ringing of you vocal chords. And he answered in courtesy, his raspy tone still vabirating each words. “No problem”
Both of you let the spoken words be slowly evaporated through the air, with nothing else to add in. Finnick took the courage to look at you once again, and you had taken in his concerned expression feeling in every nerve cell. You also realized the presence of his scanning eyes watching over your still form like a creeper of the night. But you were too comfortable in your position, too tired and depressed to mind it, so you let him be.
The silent particles the both of you shared swirlied around through the air like a little gust of wind between your breathing forms. You wanted to cry again, but you lost the capability to even do that, and as another amusing thought came across your senses, was still fully loaded with grief’s emptiness. I cried so much, I don’t have any more tears to spare.
Finnick felt impotent there, unlike you, he had volunteered to be in Games. He considered that to be his greatest mistake, all because he thought it would be just fun and games, being brainwashed that it was more light hearted than what the actual suffocating reality really was, and oh boy did reality run him over. Just like a deer, and the unchanging decision of willingly walk in the arena a unmercyful fast truck.
He got up whilst you were still submerged under powerlessness; like the little dry kisses brushing against your back, whispering in the most seductive way, a despairing and exhasuting prediction, one that had you convinced, you were simply just a dead girl walking.
His head turned around to look at you once again, and it confused you as to why he was apologizing within the depths of his sea eyes. So he went and opened his mouth to say something, to ask you if you were alright. But he closed his lips momentarily after, knowing fully well that you weren’t.
He had and internal debate between mixing opinions. Your ominous stance was begging him to ask about your own welfare, and maybe that was a signal he should stay for a while longer until he could hear the breaths of your sleeping form. But then again, he wasn’t sure your empty eyes longed for sympathetic eyes, the ones from a total stranger that as far as he knew, you probably thought of him as a calculated murderer, and maybe then his presence was nothing but a burden in your heavy shoulders.
“Hey, Finnick?” your weak voice alerted his attention. He turned his head, he was grateful that you’d taken him out of his own thoughts. He locked his eyes on your very irises, studying them as a means to try and understand the question before you’d even formulated it. “You think I’m going to die?”
He looked away. Although in normal circumstances your drunken accent might have been a delight to his ears, and he would be ready to tease you further with that. But right now, the drunken syllables that came out of your mouth were deafening, only wanting to take in and alaysze the question itself.
You knew what you had asked him went straight to him like an unexpected bullet, and to his dismay, he wasn’t wearing any bulletproof gear to save him from you. He opened his mouth, and even in your swirling vision you could see the ugly truth hidden somwehere within him, and opting to say sweet lie with a cherry pop on top. “Please, be honest with me” you added in.
The past victor let out a stilled breath before speaking. “Yeah…” Finnick finally said.The words you didn’t want to hear, broke your jaw like an incoming brick to your face. And yet, although he was speaking his truth, he seemed conflicted with what he said.
You knew this would be his answer, so why did it hurt you so much? Perhaps it was his confirmation from the bitter words from your inner monsters, and finally you felt your reality crumbling down. And even in that emotional turmoil, you had to agree with Finnick, because deep down you knew that your betraying mind was right all along “I thought so too”.
Something gripped onto your throat again, a grieving pain of the knowledge you were most likely going to die. Your expression started to wrinkle in on itself, just as you felt like something had caught onto you leg and pulled you deeper in to the poisonous sea, making sure you’d drown yourself in further agony. Finnick was just standing there, and he felt your sea whirlwind like he was there with you, joining you in the mercifuless sea currents that started to leak from your room with dark muggy water.
Finnick could only but feel your agonizing stare, and within his empathy, he wanted to say something to you. Because your dreadful pupils struck him all over his body like thin needles.
“But something I learned through the Games is that, its supposed to be planned to be irregular. Even if you aren’t as strong as others, you could still have a chance to survive” he added to reassure you. Finnick hoped that would set you mind at ease, at least before you’d hit the arena. He wanted to drift away the consternation from your scraping mind, and let it become more level headed.
Soon all of you would arrive at the Capitol, and for a chance for either Vito or you to survive, you’d need to be put away the insanity that was slowly licking your body, and to focus on a plan. To scheme up ways into getting sponsors, to anylyse the rest of the player coldy, but the most difficult one was to gather up ideas whilst in the fighting arena while pressuring your mind to stay sane throughout all of it. “Its intention is for anyone to be able to win this. Its not a competition, just pure entertainment”.
You stayed silent, taking in everything your mentor was telling you. In a way it helped you thinking of him that way. He may be just a year older than you, but he was still your mentor, and he was supposed to help you survive this afterall.
“Thank you,” you were slowly surrendering yourself to the cage of sleep, one where you wished for your night terrors to leave for another night. A sleep deprived voice was all Finnick could hear, the raspy weak tones from your smnolent voice made Finnick content enough to set his mind at ease for the night. “For everything”
The energy you wasted in the last day was too much for your body to handle, and you felt optimistic enough to finally go to sleep without any negative energy swimming across your mind.
Finnick chuckled, he repeated himself again. “No problem, Dove” he grinned at you. He found you so endearing, especially with the image of you closed eyes, and your mouth half opened, in a way so peaceful, like nothing lurking between the shadows could attack you.
“Good night” you lastly said slowly crawling to your sleeping chamber in the depths of you soul.
Finnick grinned further and said a “Good night” back to you.
The last images before you went to sleep were of him. The drawing of his face in your imaginary world, and you wished you could dream of him that night. The world made him almost untouchable, but it was surreal to you about his caring slip ups you had discovered that night; his soft face, feathery gentle hands, and his warm whispering voice brushing your ear like the slight breeze of the forest.
Yeah, you wanted to sleep with that in mind, with the ilusion of him.
Previous // Next
NOW, this was a way longer chapter than I had intended, so you'll hopefully enjoy it cuz DAMN!
TagList: @marvelescvpe @meri-soni-meri-tamanna
#finnick odair x reader#finnick x you#finnick#finnick odair#finnick odair x you#finnick x reader#the hunger games#thg finnick#thg x reader#thg#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games finnick#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick fanfiction
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✧ Late night conversations ✧
Finnick x Fem!reader
You twist and then turn, squeezing your eyes tighter. Maybe if you could fake it you'd eventually fall asleep. After adjusting your hard pillow again, and a few more twist and turns you jump out of the bed in frustration.
The quarter quell and the rebellion has been a big adjustment to you. District 13 being an even bigger one. Of course no one knew that. You had a reputation, always staying strong for everyone else, always quick thinking and on your feet, always solving problems... that's what people knew you as. There is always one person, just one person who can't seem to mind their own business, who always seems to know what's really going. And to be honest, you needed that right now. Someone who would allow you to rest for a moment and be vulnerable, someone like Finnick.
Finnick! Before your mind processes anything your feet are moving, walking with uncertainty at first, then a light jog, then your zipping through the doors, hallway to hallway. Where the hell is he? When you actually need him you can't find him. You stop running and you walk around aimlessly, restless. You come across a room that you don't remember seeing. You slowly peek your head through and a light chuckle catches your attention. "Don't princesses need their beauty sleep" Finnick says playfully, his voice filling up the empty room.
Your eyes dart across the room, it looks really old, but very spacious, like it used to have different levels. Finnicks eyes follow yours "it used to be a library". "A library?" You say as you sub - consciously walk towards him. "Yup" he replies, scooting over, giving you space to sit beside him. "So....what exactly are you doing here, so late" you ask him. "I could ask you the same thing" he says with a chuckle, though it lacked his usual humourous charm, he looks tired. You don't respond, you look anywhere but at him, scared that he might be able to tell what's going on in your head. "Look at me" the sudden urgency in his tone startles you and you refuse to comply. "I know why your here, can't sleep? Needed someone to talk to?" His speech goes back to the soft tone your used to. "Yeah.." you muster out. He shifts closer to you until he's satisfied with your proximity, your knees touching, directly infront of each other. "Me too" he says quietly. You're not surprised "nightmares?" Hoping that you weren't crossing any boundaries by asking. "No actually" he replies "just too much things to think about, my mind can't rest, so neither can i" he responds with a sigh. "I'm guessing that's happening to you too?" He says it like a statement and not a question which makes you feel the need to be guarded. "Um no...no no that's not why...not why I'm here i was just checking up on everyone" you reply, avoiding his gaze. What the hell were you doing? Didn't you want to be vulnerable? Isn't this why you came looking for him in the first place?.
The look that he gives you makes your heart skip a beat. "Don't you get tired of it" he says with unwavering eyes. You know you shouldn't answer, you know that once you acknowledge it there's no going back. "Tired of what?" You respond, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. His hand reaches out, fingers curling behind your ear and it sends shudder through your body. " Don't do that" your voice no more than a whisper, "don't you get tired of taking care of everyone" his fingers moves along you face, your eyes flutter close. "aren't you tired of pretending everything is fine when it's not?" His fingers now under your chin, your eyes aren't open but you can feel him moving closer. "Who are you hiding from?" A finger grazes over your lips which causes your heart to pound in your ears. You can't see but he's close, you can feel his breath and you almost believe that he's going to kiss you. "Look at me" his tone is laced with a hint of desperateness, but still, you just can't seem to do it, or face him. The warmth leaves your face as he pulls back with a sigh. You slowly open your eyes, looking over to the side. He's silent for a long time and you can't help but feel a bit guilty, wondering if you hurt his feelings. You feel his warm hand slip under yours and you look up. He's not looking at you but his fingers slowly interlock with yours and it makes you feel better.
You break the silence "do you think we'll get him back?" There it is, you're cracking, saying things you wouldn't dare allow to escape your mouth. He looks over to you. "Who?" He answers the question before you can respond "peeta?". You nod. His thumb runs over you knuckles in a comforting manner. "I mean- i hope we do" he pauses and looks at you with a slightly worried look "have you been thinking about it?" He asks. His eyes lock onto yours and you feel the walls cracking. How could you lie to this pretty face, if you weren't careful he would have you wrapped around his finger, spilling all of your little secrets to this man. "I've been thinking about everything Finnick" you admit "I'm fine though". That last part doesn't seem to reach him "thinking about everything yeah?" His gaze flickers back to your hands in his "what about me?" . You could have sworn that there was a slight waver to his voice, why was he looking down again?. A smile tugs at your lips "what? What about you?". He almost looked... offended?. "W-what about me? C'mon you know what I'm asking you, don't play dumb" his eyebrows furrowed and the frown playing on his face makes the situation funny. You shrug "i don't follow, i thought we were talking about peeta-"
He grabs you by your arms, causing a jolt of electricity to course through you. His lips are basically touching your ear and you can feel the warmth radiating off him. "You know what I'm talking about princess" his voice dropping to a low, husky sound "I'm talking about me, you said you've been thinking about everything....what about me?" His grip loosens and he pulls back to see you face. "Well have you?" This was so odd, he almost sounded like he was begging for your attention. You let out a shaky exhale "all the time" his lips curl up in smile but he quickly suppresses it. For the first time in a long time you felt open and vulnerable, but it didn't make scared. He felt it too, you could see, you could feel it. He reaches out a begins to caress your face again. He moves closer and closer, and closer. "Would you think I'm crazy...if i said i felt something for you". His voice is so raw with emotion, so unlike his cocky, teasing routine. You can't help but laugh and you bring your hands to your forehead "yes, I'd say your completely mad" leaning into his warmth until your noses are touching. He chuckles, hands sneaking around your waist "well...would you still think about me anyways?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Everyday" . His lips barely brush against yours, but none of you do anything. The tension in the room was so thick, what was he waiting for?. That's when you remember how vulnerable he's been, you can't help but feel that this finnick is the real Finnick, you can't help but wonder if he's scared. So you reassure him, moving an inch closer, and with that closing the small gap. His lips lock with yours. You feel your heart racing and blood running through your body but it felt good.He pulls you closer, until your bodies as pressed against each other. His hands interlock with you hair and your fingers curl against his chest. His lips and demeanor were gentle and slow , but the longing was there. It's crazy how this decides to happen when the world is literally at war. He breaks the kiss to catch his breath. His face flushed, and exact replica of your state.
"W-" you're cut off by him kissing you again, taking control this time. The kiss has more energy and he deepens it. You grip on to his shirt, wanting him closer. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt as your lips move in unison. Cold fingertips slip under your shirt, tracing the skin of your bare back and giving you goosebumps all over. His tongue darts out, begging to get just a taste. And how could you refuse this Greek god of a man hm?. The kiss intensifies and you begin to feel lost in the feeling of his touch. You're the one that has to pull away this time. "What were you saying?" His breathing was heavy. "Don't leave" the only thing on your mind was him, and his lips. He smiles and pulls you into him to place a kiss on your nose. "You said you couldn't sleep right?" He says as he begins to stand up, taking you with him in the process. You nod "not a wink"
"Let's fix that"
#this was kinda rushed#i feel like I'm not good at writing these stuff#oh well💀#finnick odair#finnick x#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick fanfic#finnick fanfiction#finnick imagine#x reader#thg#the hunger games series#the hunger games#the hunger games trilogy#thg x reader#thg fanfiction#suzanne collins#Mockingjay#sfw#wholesome kinda#the hunger games fanfiction
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i am currently working on a full length fanfiction for the one and only finnick odair. it will be released on wattpad eventually... i am aiming for october? it will be called deposition of a thousand words! in the meantime, i will settle for a little shameless self promotion here and say that i’ll have occasional updates on my progress on my instagram! (t.horn.n)
— m. list so i am not killed in the night for using ‘x reader’ tags on a non-fanfiction post
#finnick x reader#finnick odair#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick fanfiction#hunger games#hunger games x reader#hunger games fanfiction#wattpad#wattpad fanfiction
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finnick or Katniss?
#i need someone to write for ‼️#finnick x you#finnick x reader#finnick ff#finnick fanfiction#finnick x y/n#katniss everdeen#katniss everdeen x reader#katniss x you#katniss x reader#hunger games#hunger games ff#hunger games fanfiction
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a darling and a virgin | f. odair
masterlist
summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.
pairing: finnick odair x reader
warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.
notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.
word count: 6.8k
Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.
For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.
Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.
For six whole months.
When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.
You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.
Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.
So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.
“Pretty cold out here.”
A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.
“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”
He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.
Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.
Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.
“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”
You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.
Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.
“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”
To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.
Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”
Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.
With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”
Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.
“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"
“Finnick.”
“He’s a fucking—”
“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”
He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.
You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.
His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.
The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”
You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.
Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.
“You’re a virgin?”
Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.
“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”
Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”
God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.
He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.
His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”
Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.
“Okay,” you said warily.
The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.
His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”
*************
You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.
Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.
After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.
You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.
Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—
“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.
But your gaze remained on the bed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”
Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.
“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”
He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”
“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”
He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”
A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.
Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.
The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.
“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”
The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.
You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.
Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.
“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.
You nodded.
“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”
His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.
“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.
He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.
“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”
Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.
Finnick Odair was kissing you.
His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.
This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.
A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.
“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”
He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”
Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”
“Okay, good.”
Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.
He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.
And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.
Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.
Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.
When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.
A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.
It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.
After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.
One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.
Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.
He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.
His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”
“Yes, please,” you breathed.
As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.
Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.
“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.
But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.
“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”
His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.
Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.
Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”
You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”
And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.
There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.
Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.
Does it hurt?
You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.
He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.
His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.
Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.
Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.
He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.
Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.
Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.
Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.
He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.
His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.
Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”
He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.
Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.
His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.
While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.
Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”
Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.
You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.
And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.
Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.
People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.
His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.
“Finnick,” you moaned.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.
His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.
This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.
Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.
It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.
Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.
“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.
He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.
“Yes!” you cried out.
Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.
The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.
“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.
Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”
Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.
As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.
Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"
Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.
His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.
He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.
After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.
Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.
Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.
His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.
You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”
You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.
He whispered, “Me too.”
#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick x you#finnick imagine#thg finnick#sam claflin#catching fire#the hunger games#mockingjay#katniss and peeta#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fluff#finnick x oc#thg fanfiction
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“shhh, shhh..I know, I know..” with finnick pls 🥺
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: this takes place after the poison fog, r is badly injured and finnick takes care of her
hunger games masterlist
You twitch against Finnick’s chest in the tall grass, rough like sandpaper against your wounded face. You’re covered head to toe in blisters from the fog, eyes half lidded as you begin to lose consciousness from the pain.
Katniss’ strangled wail is muffled and far away in your ears and you barely register the words.
“The water! The water helps.”
You drag yourself from where you’ve collapsed on top of your fiancé; crawling along on your elbows, you make it a couple of feet at most before you’re exhausted; your entire body is burning, skin raw, every little touch flaring up every nerve ending inside of you.
There’s a rustling next to you as Finnick is lifted and dragged to the shallow pool of water a few feet away; there’s a splash and a gurgled scream as Katniss and Peeta start to clean his blistered skin.
“Finnick,” you gasp, your concern for him overriding the searing pain for a split second. “Finn,” you croak again, eyes heavy.
It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound the whispering of leaves brushing against each other. All the while you lay face down, trying to peel your eyes open where they feel like they’ve been superglued shut.
Thick fingers pull at your jaw and your head turns; your neck is stiff and the touch feels like the lick of a flame against your bulging wounds.
“C’mon,” It’s Peeta. “Gotta get you to the water.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got her,” comes Finnick’s voice and his hands pull you up by the armpits. You hiss and squirm away from his hold, the skin on skin contact causing too much pain.
“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” He speaks in that soft voice you love, the one reserved just for you. “It’ll feel better soon.”
He lowers you into the water and you scream. It’s a pain unlike any you’ve ever felt before, white-hot and scalding. It’s like you’re bleeding from every pore.
“Shhh, shhh… I know, I know.” He winces as the blisters start to lodge free from your skin and you relax, sagging in his arms.
“‘S better,” you slur. Your eyes snap open as you grapple for purchase against Finnick’s neck; your thumb rubs circles into his cheek. “You’re okay? You’re sure you’re okay?”
He laughs, incredulous that even at a time like this, he’s where your worries lie. Pointed teeth glare back at you as you thumb at his bottom lip and smile.
“I’m fine. Just worried about you.”
“I feel better. I’m okay now.”
His muscular arms engulf you, wrapping around your waist now it’s finally safe to touch you again.
#finnick odair x you#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair fanfic#the hunger games finnick#finnick x y/n#finnick x you#finnick x reader#finnick odair drabble#thg fanfiction#thg fandom#thg fic#thg finnick#writer#writers on tumblr#writing#fanfic writer#fanfic#fanfiction#love letters#ily#finnick odair#finnick imagine#hunger games finnick#the hunger games
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finnick getting off by watching your previous interview with caesar
MDNI 18+
Maybe it was because he missed your warmth, the way you'd clench around his cock, mewling out his name. He couldn't help it. Downright shameful and humiliating, but god, if you didn't look divine.
Finnick's hand wrapped around the base of his cock, one arm behind him on the bed. He exhaled, head falling back, eyes closing as his hand began to move. Slow at first, trying to draw it out. But, the moment you walked on stage, Finnick couldn't hold back. Not with the way your hips swayed as you walked, with the way you waved at the crowd, with the way you kissed Caesar's hand with a flirty smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing. Finnick groaned, biting his bottom lip to quiet himself so he could hear you talk.
"Well, no, as sweet as everyone is here, I've got a boy back home. He's really just perfect. Pretty hair, pretty dimples, sun kissed skin. I think you'd all would just die for him."
Damn you. It got him every time. Another quiet groan escaped Finnick, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock, mimicking the way you'd do it. If you already weren't sexy enough, the subtle way you claimed Finnick was enough to make him moan.
Finnick's rhythm was sloppy, desperate, and needy. If you weren't in the Capitol, he'd have fucked you right there. But, his hand would have to be enough for now.
"Caeser!" You exclaimed, and Finnick pretended it was his name you gasped out. "No, no, I won't tell who. A girl has to have her secrets, right?"
Finnick moaned loudly, head falling back as his hips canted up into his tight fist. You continued to answer questions; laughing softly on cue, adjusting yourself in your seat to show off more of your body to the vultures. He remembered seething despite the fact being a siren was his idea to earn you sponsors, but now, he had a guilty appreciation for it.
His soft moans were short, quick, and raspy. He was so close, hand pumping as quickly as he could. Sea green eyes watched you stand, holding your arms out to show the crowd your pretty sea-themed dress. In the direction of the camera, you bowed, the sweet curve of your breasts accentuated.
Finnick's hips stuttered, the fingers on the bed curling into the comforter. His fist closed around his tip, continuing to circle the swollen head of his cock. Within another second, he was moaning your name and cumming into his fist.
#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#finnick odair#thg fanfiction#thg finnick#fanfic#finnick x reader#finnick x you#thg#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair headcanons#finnick odair x reader#finnick imagine#finnick odair x you#finnick odair smut
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another request for finnick, just a lil bit of angst as him and her get into a fight and then they make up. angst and then some fluff
love letter to finnick. maybe this is like the before of this
It’s dark in the large bedroom you cave yourself in, and it seems even darker post argument.
Your eyes ache dully, even closed they beg to be soothed. You can’t believe the contents of the last hour, they play behind your eyelids as you pray for comfort. This is the worst. The worst. The watch sitting on your bedside table reads midnight when you pick it up gently.
“Fuck,” it’s cold in your hand, pulling you closer to the real world you’d tried desperately to escape with sleep.
At home in district four, you hear the waves of a homely sea outside your window. Finnick is out there, for sure, swimming in the seas he knows you don’t like him in after dark. Some of the things he said were hurtful, but he said them out of fear. Fear of what would happen to you, to the peace he’d created at the shoreline of district four.
It’s quiet until the creek of your door alerts you. It’s slow, obvious the person behind it wants you asleep, and you know it’s Finnick by the way his feet fall on the hardwood floor.
“Baby?” He whispers. The name feels good at a time like this. You hardly fight, and when you do, it isn’t even really an argument. More of a disagreement.
“Are you awake?”
You contemplate lying and the good that will come from it. Ultimately nothing, but you wait a second anyways, listening to the air in your room shuffle in his wake.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, voice cracking. You can hear him bring his hands up, rough palms pressing into his eyes, staving away the tears he knows bound to come.
You turn, hearing the crinkle of the crisp sheets as you face him. He flinches, he didn’t think you were awake.
“I’m sorry,” He says for a different reason now. “I thought you were asleep.”
“No,” You say quietly, for no reason other than a little shame. “can’t sleep alone.”
He steps closer daringly, pulling his shirt off before he crawls under your covers. His hair is wet and smells like salt. Any other day you’d fret over your clean sheets, but now you pull him closer, tangling your hands in his wet hair. You brush it away from his eyes, letting them roam over your face.
“We’ll be fine, Finnick.”
He lets out a strangled breath, burying into your chest. His shoulders shake miserably as he grasps you desperately.
“You heard Beetee,” You’re referencing the phone call you’d gotten after the announcement of the quarter quell. “he’s got a plan.”
You let him cry, never quieting the tears he wish he could quiet himself. It’s scary, definitely, and you can’t imagine how he feels going into the arena with you.
“It’s me and Mags.” You say definitively. “And I’m not letting her in that arena.”
He pulls up, glossy eyes terrified. “You can’t.”
She’s old, nearing the end he wants to say, but he knows it’s not right, he loves the woman.
“I’m not letting her in that arena,” you push slightly. “I can survive, see the plan through, but she’s old, Finnick, she can’t last the games again.”
He nods, defeated. “I’ll keep you safe.”
You say nothing, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then, “I know.”
He chases the feeling of your lips, kissing you softly. “Me and you.”
“And Beetee, and wiress.”
“Me and you.” He repeats.
“And katniss, and Peeta.”
He laughs quietly, nosing at your cheek. “Stop it.”
“I’m sorry,” you preen. “Me and you.”
#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair fanfic#finnick angst#finnick fanfiction#finnick x y/n#finnick x you#finnick x reader#finnick imagine#finnick fanfic#finnick odair#hunger games finnick#finnick odair x y/n#the hunger games x y/n#the hunger games fanfiction
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jealous finnick?
jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!
finnick odair x fem!reader
Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.
“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.
“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”
“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”
Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”
Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil. 
Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.
Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.
“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.
“You look mad.”
“I’m not.”
You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”
Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.
He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.
You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”
“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”
You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”
Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.
“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”
Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”
You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”
Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.
You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.
Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”
Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.
-
thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍
#★ mal writes!#finnick odair#finnick odair blurb#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair x fem!reader#finnick odair imagines#finnick odair fic#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair drabbles#finnick odair headcanons#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair drabble#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick odair fluff#finnick x reader#thg finnick#thg x reader#thg#thg finnick x reader#thg finnick x you#thg x you#thg series#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#hunger games#hunger games x reader#hunger games x you#hunger games fanfiction
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When the World Shifts (Finnick O’Dair x reader) Part 2
Finnick O'Dair x reader
TW: It's about the Hunger Games, so murder, talks of death
You have been made shorter than Finnick, but it's not important. Do I include Y/N?
No Betas, we die like vikings.
Part 1, Part 2 (here), Part 3, Part 4: TBD
The day of the reaping came all too soon. The days leading to the reaping were filled with training, for Finnick, and you, as well as everyone taking shifts with Annie. If you were with her, Finnick trained with Mags, if Mags was with her you and Finnick trained, and if Finnick was with her, you and Mags trained. Annie had fallen back into many of her old patterns from the months after her games, if she did not have one of you to ground her she would start to scream and rip her hair out. You worried that when you and Finnick left, Annie would only have Mags but she will know where you are and you are unsure if Mags will be enough.
“Are you ready love?” Finnick pulls you from your thoughts. You take a breath in to steady yourself.
“Does it really matter?” You attempt to joke, but your words hold much truth. It doesn’t matter if you are ready, the reaping will occur and you will soon be on a train to the capitol, whether or not you like it.
The District 4 victors all gather together to walk over hand in hand. You walking next to eachother, Finnick, you, Annie, and Mags stepping onto the stage together. You looked at the bowls, the left had 3 pieces, and the right had 1; seeing them making it feel all the more real.
The capitol representative who had drawn, Annie’s, Finnick’s, and your names walked up to the bowls. He began his long-winded speech from the capital all about the importance of the Hunger Games and how significant the quarter quell is. It was a summary of what Snow had said, and that speech was already burned into your brain. You start to disassociate from yourself, it had been so long since the last time time you had been at the reaping in person.
After your victory, you tried to go to the reapings to meet the tributes after they were reaped to help comfort them, but it became too much. No matter how much you tried the tributes were outmatched by the careers. So over the years, you had to stop going, seeing the names pulled and looking at the faces of the children who were lambs to the slaughter became too much. Sometimes you still dream of those first few kids,
Coral was only 14 when she was chosen, and had a smile that could light up a room. She made you a bracelet you still wear on your wrist, made of dried fish bones and odd-shaped shells. She went in with Moss, a soft-spoken 16-year-old. You grew up on the same road as him, his older brother even went to school with you. He did not have hope for himself but spent the game trying to protect Coral. They lost their game by a sneak attack while they slept, leaving you a wreck for weeks. The only comfort you had was they went fast, a mercy not many receive in the games.
The next was Annie, and although she won the loss of her partner hurt you as badly as the first two you lost. Annie winning was both a blessing and a curse, it let you keep Annie but the next 2 years held hope which only made the pain hurt more. After losing 4 more tributes you eventually stopped going to the reapings. You wanted to be there to help the kids but the mental torment was simply too much. Finnick trained, them and Mags the group after, you returned to join the rotation knowing that it was hard for Finnick and Annie as well.
Your reminiscing was cut off by someone grabbing your hand. You turn to look a the source of the warmth and comfort. Finnick looked down at you and tried to give you a comforting smile. It was like he read your mind and knew what you were doing, and he was probably doing the same. You all knew not to get too attached but it was impossible to look a those young kids and not care.
“It will be alright, love” Finnick attempted to comfort you, but you could not even muster a response, only being able to squeeze his hand.
“We shall let the men go first,” The host announced, laughing as he pretended to search around the bowl, but there was only one name. You knew what the host was about to say but you still flinched upon hearing it. “Finnick O’Dair!”
The host began to clap and District 4 reluctantly joined in, out of respect for their only male victor. Finnick gave the cameras a wave as he walks to the side for the next name to be called.
“Alright, now for the female tribute!” The host was loud and excited, so clearly capital. He saw this as some sort of game but the districts knew the truth. These were murders, children slaughtered for nothing, a war they weren’t alive for. “Our female tribute is . . . Annie Cresta!” Your heart sinks. Annie broke out in tears holding herself as she begins to weep. You knew what you were about to do, knew she wouldn’t enter the games but hearing her name still hurt her.
“I VOLUNTEER!” You scream tears starting to form. Mags begins to wrap Annie in her arms as you walk over to join Finnick.
He wraps you in a hug and leans to whisper in your ear “We will make it out, I promise.” You nod your head and wipe your tears.
You move to stand side by side and grab Finnick's hand. You raise it high above your head for your District to see. All of District 4 began to cheer for their victors, turned back into tributes. They finally have a reason to have hope, both of you were survivors and maybe you could have a chance, that they would not have to watch more of their people be slaughtered for entertainment. You had the same hope, maybe you could make it out, maybe both of you could.
Once you were able to walk off the stage you run to where Annie and Mags stood. You wrap them up in your arms, and Finnick does the same holding all three of you. Your little family, the only people who truly understood you was being torn apart. Annie grabbed both you and Finnick, gripping your arms to the point her nails dug into your skin but you ignore it. She is still crying but not screaming anymore. She lets go of your arms and grabs your heads to put them to her. She was unable to speak but you understand what she is saying. Annie lets out a soft laugh and you know that she cannot control it.
“We will make it back to you, I promise,” Finnick tells her. You don’t know if she believes him, or if you do but she lets go of your heads. She grabs your hands to give you one last squeeze followed by Mags giving you both a soft touch to the cheek and a smile.
The peacekeeper starts to head towards your group, a sign you had to leave. Their weapons stayed in their hands, not pointing towards you, but the threat was clear. You are leaving now.
“We’re coming you grunts,” Finnick told them as he turns to walk. You begin to join him but quickly turn your head around and mouth, I love you to the woman. Annie turns into Mags' arms as her weeping returns.
You turn to look up to Finnick, seeing him tensing upon hearing Annie’s cries but not being able to hug and comfort her. You grab his hand and squeeze it, making him look at you. “We got this. Mags will take care of her for when we come back.” you try to comfort him.
He gives you a soft smile that does not fully reach his eyes “Of course my love. They don’t stand a chance against us.”
You nod your head, then turn forward to walk, hand in hand with Finnick, knowing that whatever you are going to face you will at least be with him.
#finnick odair#Finnick O’Dair#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick x y/n#finnick odair x reader#hunger games#the hunger games#annie cresta#thg#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick fanfiction#finnick odair imagines#the hunger games fanfiction
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reader faints from a migraine / bad headache & finnick helps / comfort reader ⁉️ this actually did happen to me one time several years ago ... it was a very eventful day LMFAO
thank you for requesting!
finnick odair x gn!reader (set in mockingjay pt1)
"Finn," you tugged on his sleeve, voice small and quiet so as to not disturb his conversation with Katniss.
Nevertheless, he turned to you the second he heard you, Katniss having understood and you gave her a grateful smile as she started talking to Prim.
Your boyfriend's eyebrows were creased and he was frowning, and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. "Yeah, (Y/N)?"
"My head hurts," you whimpered, "and I'm really dizzy."
Finnick immediately snapped into protective mode. "Okay," he said. "That's okay. Let's go sit down, alright?"
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you made it just two steps before your vision went fuzzy, crackling and fizzing like the static on a television. Your breaths went shallow, and you collapsed; a rag doll in Finnick's arms.
"Sweetheart?" His voice was worried, urgent. He tapped your cheek, fingers gentle in their attempt to wake you up. "Shit," he said, calling to someone, anyone for help.
He picked you up in his arms, tightening his hold around you when you roused, just slightly, eyes blinking open. Finnick was quick to reassure you. "You're okay," he murmured, his face soft. "Just getting you to bed, baby."
You made a soft noise of content, and you shifted a little in his arms, his heart splitting clean in two when you pressed your head deeper into his chest.
When you reached, he lay you down, so gentle, on your bed, reaching for the cup of water on the bedside. "Open up," he said, his voice both stern and caring as he raised the water to your lips. You gulped it down gratefully, pink blush coating your cheeks when Finnick gave you murmurs of praise and affection as a reward.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, a concerned tone seeping through his words.
You nodded as he pulled you back into his chest and his arms, hands moving to draw soothing circles on your back. "Yeah," you whispered. "Just really tired," you admitted.
"You must be," he agreed sympathetically. "Just rest for now, honey. We'll talk about why you fainted in the morning."
You groaned, an annoyed sound that contrasted with the laughter currently escaping your mouth.
"What?" he asked, all sincere and innocent. "You didn't think you were gonna get away with it, sweetheart, did you?" He hesitated. "You scared me to death."
You cooed sympathetically at him, and he gave you a genuine smile. "I promise it won't happen again."
#finnick!!#my lover boy#the hunger games finnick#finnick#thg finnick#finnick fanfic#hunger games finnick#finnick odair#finnick x you#finnick imagine#finnick odair x fem!reader#finnick x reader#finnick odair blurb#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick oneshot#finnick fanfiction#finnick x y/n#thg x you#thg#thg series#hunger games#hunger games fanfiction#hurt/comfort#comfort#fainting#fluff#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x gn!reader
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Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!
my body is a cage
finnick odair x reader
synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..
a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.
“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.
you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”
johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”
katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.
“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”
they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.
“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.
suddenly the island began to spin.
your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.
you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.
you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.
finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.
“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”
there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.
finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.
“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.
you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.
finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”
finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”
“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.
“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.
“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.
“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.
finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.
finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.
he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.
it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.
“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.
“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”
there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”
your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.
“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.
“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”
finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.
“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”
johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.
#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair angst#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x female!reader#thg#thg fanfiction#thg imagines#thg finnick odair#finnick odair oneshots#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick imagine#hunger games finnick#finnick odair
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