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cassayeee · 5 months

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MY LITTLE SECRET (FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER)

warnings: porn with quite a bit of plot (i can never just write a oneshot), emotional sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, slight marking, mentions of killing, death, and suicidal thoughts (this is the hunger games), just be wary fr - minors stay away

notes: so this was a request from @theBridgetopanem on ao3 and, ugh, it's just so cute. love me some soft boy finnick. once again, very quickly edited so sorry for any grammatical mistakes. anywho - make sure to like, reblog, and comment! love u all <3

word count: 9.4k

summary:

No one truly understands the deception of humanity more than those who have the power to take it away. To push innocents against innocents and make sure nothing more than blood and broken souls remains where hope and naivety once stood.

It was a horrible nightmare in your mind – trying to think like them. Trying to survive. And the shadows that followed you out of that arena as people congratulated you for being a victor? Well, they knew what the absence of humanity really brought.

Fear.

Finnick Odair is your mentor for the 70th Hunger Games and you can't help but find comfort in the man who is in your life solely to make sure you don't die.

The 70th Hunger Games, ready to begin.

Your name, reaped.

All hope, lost.

Voices flickered in and out of your consciousness as you made your way up to the stage. Of course, this happens to you in your last year of eligibility, why wouldn’t it? Time sped and slowed as it pleased, having no regard for your ticking thoughts. Nor did it care for your unwillingness to let it pass.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Why is this happening?

You weren’t a Career. You had no special talents besides swimming and spearfishing. Swimming. How for fucks sake was that going to get you through the Games? News flash: it wouldn’t. Maybe spearfishing? But that was hardly a skill that could contend with previous victors. And it definitely wouldn’t help you against the Careers.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

As you curled into the dark spot floating at the edge of your vision, you barely heard the name of the male tribute announced beside you. Isaac? Ethan? Ian? Why does it matter anyway? You weren’t going to make it out of here. This was it. The ocean was draining, and you were being sucked down with it.

You barely noticed the Peacekeepers usher you off the stage and saying goodbye to your family was now a flicker of a memory. Siblings would never see you again. You would never be able to make them laugh in your family home or try to eat your mother’s insufferable cooking again. You would never be able to brush off fishing duty to go swimming with Annie or visit the town tavern with her again.

Oh, Annie.

Best friends since birth, the two of you were practically inseparable. Many of your other friends and family joked that the two of you must have been a soul split because of how alike you were. You did everything together, but the shining break in this storm was the fact that she wasn’t standing where you were. That your siblings weren’t. If it had to be any of you, you were glad that it was yourself.

But, fuck – you wish it would have been anyone else’s name picked out of the grim bowl.

---

Stepping foot on that train was probably the hardest decision of your life. Not that it was much of a decision, really. If you wouldn’t have gotten on yourself, the Peacekeepers would have gladly thrown you on there themselves.

You couldn’t say that you were too impressed with the interior of it. Honestly, it just looks like the Capitol threw up all over it. Yes, your family home was nicer than most of those in the other Districts due to the wealth of the area, but you didn’t care about all of that. The people made a house a home, and this train was nothing more than a moving coffin.

As your Capitol lapdog, Jorge, showed you and your fellow tribute into the lounge car, a head of bronze hair caught your eye. His arms were spread wide on either side of him as he lounged on the travel sofa – seeming to be as content as a summer’s day. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. But, before that mocking gaggle could make its way out of your throat, the man before you turned.

Oh, shit.

Finnick Odair. You needed no introduction of his, everyone in District 4 was aware of him after his victory in the 64th Games. Youngest ever and all that, you had to respect him for making it through. What you couldn’t respect, however, was his enjoyment of his Capitol fame. He appeared on screen at least five times a month at some prestigious party, the arm candy to some Capitol prissy who you really couldn’t bother to care about. Why should you when they laugh and cheer for children to die for their amusement? It was absolutely disgusting.

Flashing you with a stunning smile, he popped a sugar cube in his mouth as Jorge motioned for the two of you to sit across from him. His sea-green eyes followed your movements as you stiffly sat before him, like a prized pet for sale. Your shoulders were locked tight as you stared back at the man before you. Tanned skin from hours on the coast and beauty that even the old Gods would envy, you couldn’t discount his looks. But you knew those could be deceiving. And anyone who wins the Games knows how to be deceiving.

“Hey, you two,” he began as he looked between you and… Ian? Yeah, let’s go with that. “This isn’t a position I want to see anyone in, but I’m here to help make sure you make it through whatever hellscape of an arena they have planned for you and get you used to the culture of the Capitol.”

You could feel your hands shake as this terror became more real with every word he spoke. He’s my mentor. I have a mentor. I’m really a tribute.

I’m going to die.

Every ill thought you had of Finnick was immediately disposed of. He was a lifeline in this – he knew how to win. And if you had to be deceitful, manipulative, hell, even seductive through this, you’d take whatever advice he had and hold onto it with your life.

Quickly grasping your hands together to try and still them, you showed nothing but vulnerability as you slouched in your seat. You could feel another panic attack coming on, but you shoved it down to deal with later so you could talk with Finnick. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on this train that didn’t provide you with some sort of opportunity to gain skills that would help you make it out of the arena.

Finnick saw how your composure changed as soon as he started talking and his heart broke a bit from the horribleness of this. He meant it when he said that he didn’t want anyone else to be in this position, for the Games to be a reality, but he would be damned if he didn’t make sure that one of you wouldn’t come out a victor. So, the three of you got to work and talked through the whole ride to the Capitol.

---

Finnick was betting on your spearfishing skills to get you through.

“The other tributes will be spread between those who know how to hunt, how to hide, and how to survive. I need you to be all three.” He stated.

The two of you were working together before your training began in the Tribute Center, stealing your last little bit of train time to work on hand-to-hand skills. Ian was off resting since Finnick was already aware of his expertise with tridents. Apparently, the two had known each other prior to all of this. Finnick wasn’t worried about him. No, he was worried about you.

“I’ve never hunted another person before.” You reminded him. “Fish are different.”

He was showing you maneuvers that could be used for deflection at this point. Utilizing the strength of the staff would be crucial, but since the Capitol provided metal ones in the arena, there was no worry about it breaking. Being in the proper position to block vital spots was up to you, though.

“Fish are small targets,” he nailed his trident against your spear, the reverberation racing up your arms. You continued to hold on. “Humans are bigger. More places to aim for.”

“But they can fight back.” You remarked as you readjusted your hold on the spear. “They can kill me just as easily.”

“Then be faster. Be quiet and quick and they won’t know you’re there until the damage is already done.” He urged. Setting his trident against the wall, he stripped off his shirt from the exertion and reached for a bottle of water to rehydrate.

Your mouth watered at the view. He was, in the simplest of terms, gorgeous. Taunt muscles built from years of experience stretched across his expanse as sweat trickled between the valleys of them. His Adam’s apple bobbed in tandem with his swallows and you were entranced by the movement. You don’t know what he did in a past life to be graced with a body like that, but you had to appreciate it if even for this one moment.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the distraction, you grabbed a drink of water as well, taking the time to think of your odds. They’ve been getting better with Finnick’s instruction, but it was your intelligence and timing that would get you to the victor’s circle. Confidence was starting to brew in your veins, and you didn’t want it to go away.

Setting the bottle down, you grabbed your spear once more and took a fighter’s stance with it. Finnick noticed and lifted a well-manicured brow at you.

“I’ve got the defense positions down,” you started. “Now show me how to win.”

---

You tried not to stand out amongst the other tributes as much as you could, in hopes that they would view you as nothing more than some meek and useless girl. Your plan was that if you kept your head down, they wouldn’t view you as a threat. While that could cause some to view you as an easy target, it would also keep the element of surprise tidily tucked in your back pocket.

However, you stuck close to Ian as Finnick urged the two of you to attempt an alliance – granting the ability for at least one person to keep an eye on your blind spots. You weren’t naïve, though. Alliances were unsteady, especially if it came down to saving your own skin over the others. And there was no proof that Ian would even keep his word about meeting in the arena, let alone keeping you alive long enough to hear the first sounds of cannon fire. If you were a betting man, you wouldn’t bet on him.

But he did bring in two more members to your shaky alliance, Della Remfar and Billy Churl from District 10. Not Career-material by a long shot, but they were both highly adept with an array of knife work. And, to your knowledge, both knew the cleanest and quickest ways to stab, slice, and gut something – which could definitely come in handy.

Even after surrounding yourself with the three, you weren’t entirely sold on the idea of putting any sort of trust in them. You didn’t speak of anything personal, nor did you even attempt to learn anything about them. It would be easier this way. There can only be one victor in the end, and the memories of the fallen tributes should be left to be carried on by their own friends and families, not by someone who was an instrument in their death.

And, selfishly, you just didn’t want the chance of actually liking any of them to arise. It would be hard enough to kill strangers – killing friends would probably destroy you.

---

The training scores were being announced as you sat between Finnick and Ian. Nervously, you kept bouncing your leg up and down on the plush seat as you waited for your name to pop up on the screen.

Your show to the Gamemakers may not have been anything extremely special, but you would be damned if your new prowess with a spear would go unnoticed. Finnick’s teachings were nothing short of a blessing, and every time you lifted that metal bar, you had the unrestrained thought of making him proud.

It was strange, to find comfort in a man whose sole purpose in your life was to keep you from dying. He would do all he could to keep sponsors coming your way and leave you with all the knowledge and tricks he gained from his own Games. And you would survive. If you wished hard enough that you would live through it, perhaps you could wish it into existence.

A fool’s thought, but it didn’t stop you from looking up to the night sky every night and doing just that. It wasn’t a prayer, not by a long shot. If there was a God out there, you’d hate them with every fiber of your being for allowing their “children” to do this to one another without fear of repercussion. You were already in a living hell – it couldn’t get much worse than this.

Silencing your mind, you peaked with interest as Ian’s name flashed across the screen along with his score. An 8. That was solid. Enough to show the sponsors he was someone worth rooting for and kept the Careers off his tail for being too much of a threat. But it’s not like you cared that much when your name and picture finally appeared.

From pure desperation and worry soaking your veins, you grabbed Finnick’s hand in an attempt to calm yourself. You couldn’t even look at him, not as your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you. But Finnick looked at you.

He saw how scared you were – not just from the placings, but from the whole event. He couldn’t be surprised – hardly anyone made it through the Games without being completely terrified. Even in his own Games, he was fearful. Petrified, more like. No one wants to die like an animal and, besides the vicious, no one wants to kill another human being like one either. So, tightening his own hand around yours, softly rubbing his thumb on the back, he waited with bated breath for your score.

9. Oh, fuck.

“That puts you right around the Careers,” Finnick whispered to you.

You nodded your head, eyes still staring straight at some unknown point in front of you. Your hand was still wrapped around Finnick’s, neither one of you wanting to let go from the worldly anchor. In truth, you were surprised you had placed that high, and by the slightly jealous façade that rested on Ian’s face, you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it either. But Finnick, he just seemed to watch your facial response to it, ready to help you through.

There was no overwhelming emotion of happiness or disappointment, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. And, after turning your face to drown into his oceanic eyes once more, you were.

---

This was it. The clock was counting down as you and the other tributes stood atop your respective platforms waiting for the blood bath to begin. For humanity to disappear and pure unrestrained carnage to take its place.

Your whole body was shaking. Anxiety and dread were filling you up and overflowing at the top. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to be dead already to get it over with. You wanted to be with Annie and your family playing on the beach.

You just didn’t want to be here.

So, for a split second, you let your consciousness cover your mind with a memory. Something warm and happy that could perhaps get you through the next minutes or hours or days. And you indulged in it.

“Oh, yeah. My parents took us swimming all the time. For ‘exercise’ and all that, but really, I know they just wanted to spend time as a family whenever we could.”

You and Finnick were lounging in the main sitting area within your deck of the Tribute Center. While he probably should have made his leave already, he wanted to check on you after your training, and, without admitting it, desired to spend time with you.

The two of you were currently sharing memories of your families and friends and life. You don’t quite remember how the conversation happened, but it was just too easy to get lost in the words with him. A bittersweet thought of how you would miss him materialized, but you quickly threw it to the wayside so you could luxuriate in the presence of Finnick Odair.

“My mom was always about making sure that between work on the docks, out on the waves, or just helping with the catches, we prioritized one another. Blood is thicker than water, she would always remind us.” You couldn’t help the bright smile painting your face as you thought about how kind and, sometimes scary, your mother was. She truly loved life and insisted on making sure everyone in your family could see the beauty in it as well, if not a little aggressively.

“She once threatened my younger brother, Kade, that she would take away his slice of chiffon cake if he didn’t go out and play with his friends for a bit.” You disclosed. “She ate it right in front of him when he refused.”

You both laughed at the story, going on to tell him more about your siblings and Annie, who was practically your sister at this point. With each passing story, you grew less enthusiastic. He saw the way you started to deflate from the stories, sadness taking its place due to your current predicament of perhaps never being able to see your loved ones again.

He didn’t want those memories to sour from this, he wanted you to keep them treasured – shrouded in a golden cloud of light and love. With a sense of duty, he moved over from his armchair to join you on the loveseat you were curled into.

Your doe eyes followed his movements, curious as to what he was doing. He sat beside you; stern vulnerability layered on his features. With shrugged eyebrows and a twinkle of some unknown emotion in his eyes, he placed his hand on the side of your face, tenderly holding you in position.

“Don’t let them take this from you.” He softly insisted, fingers warming you where they rested. “They want to break you, to dull you, but don’t let them win.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before your brain registered that you should reply to him.

“Wh- What?” You stuttered out in a hushed voice, much less of a conversation than you intended, but you were still confused by his words and actions. He continued to look at you, stealing glimpses into your soul through your widened eyes.

“Your memories, your love. The Games are built to destroy you of it all, leaving nothing more than a walking corpse empty of thought and emotion.” He asserted. “But don’t let them win. When you walk out a victor, hold onto what you love most and remember that the Capitol can’t take that. They can try to take your humanity, what makes you, you, but they won’t.”

You were stunned into silence, thoughts running rampant, but one began to overshadow them all.

He thinks I’ll win?

“I know we’ve only truly known each other for a short while, but I’d like to think I’ve become a great judge of character over the years.” He confessed with a small smile. “And when I look at you, I see a genuinely good person. Someone who shouldn’t have been forced into this, who should have lived their life out in peace and bliss but will win because they have something to fight for.”

You didn’t want to speak, to breathe, for fear of stopping his expression. But your eyes encouraged him, so he went on.

“You. Fight for yourself, Y/N L/N. Fight for the memories you hold in your heart. Fight for the love you have to give. Fight for whoever makes your head rush. Fight for the feelings.” He whispered out, only for you. “Just, please, fight. I know you can win. You have the skills, the intelligence, everything. So, fight for everything and nothing at all.”

Silent tears were streaming down your heated cheeks from his honesty. You knew Finnick to be manipulative and cunning when he needed to be, but there was nothing but a boy who wanted to be heard in front of you. What did he have to lie for anyway? You’d be going into that arena either way, friend or not.

Your own smaller hand covered Finnick’s as he continued to hold your cheek. Your lids gently shut as you pushed yourself into the warmth he was offering, staying close to him. He watched you hold the part of himself he presented to you, and decided he should gift just a little bit more.

Lifting his left hand to sit on the other side of your face, he pulled you close to rest his forehead against your own. With shut eyes, the two of you breathed in each other as the intimate moment closed over you.

Even in this short period of time, you’d never felt as close to a person as you did to Finnick. He knew the position you were in, for he had stood there before. He knew your emotions better than you did and encouraged them as a power, not a weakness. He was a light in this dark world, and you’d protect that flame with your life.

Pulling his head back but still staying close, he expressed one last thing. “My secrets, Y/N. I’ll give you all my secrets if you come back to me. If you fight for me. I’ll fight for you every day of my life and it still won’t be enough if you don’t come. Back. To. Me.”

He practically shook with the truth of his words. He wanted for nothing more than time. Time with you. Time to truly learn everything about you. Something in him yearned for you since the moment you had met. Your strength, your smile, your brilliance. He wanted to bathe and drown in it all at once. So, he needed you to win. To dirty yourself as he still is. Then, perhaps, you could both learn how to wear the past together.

For a short moment, all you could do was look at him. To take him in as he was, no mask atop his face. To see what Finnick Odair looked like when there were no secrets to steal. And then you quickly tucked yourself into his torso as you wrapped your arms around him.

“I’ll fight for you, Finnick.” You declared into his chest. “I’ll fight for more moments like this.”

He hesitated for just a breath before he enveloped his arms around you, holding you tight and taking in your presence. He would make sure that you get anything you need in that arena. And that he’ll be there to pick up any pieces you left behind when you come back to him.

---

Della was dead. Ian was dead. Tributes from all the districts were dead.

The only ones still living were you and Billy, and the clock was ticking away.

Ian stuck true to his word and met you far from the Cornucopia as the two of you ran for your lives. The arena was a swamp – dirty and thick with a putrid smell that you would never forget. But the cypress and tupelo tree bunches gave what cover they could as you deftly made your way through the duckweed covering parts of the watery surface. Della and Billy attempted to steal a supply pack out of the slaughterhouse, but only Billy returned. Sticking close to one another, you made it through your first night.

Finnick also did as he promised and made sure the sponsors gave you anything you needed: spears, bread, ointment for Ian after he ran through a thorn-filled brush and ripped his leg open, even just extra blankets and water bottles – he made sure you were always supplied. His heart was in his mouth every time he saw you on screen, each day fitting you worse than the last. Exertion and fear were already taking their toll on you with mud-caked skin, chapped lips, and hair that was matting faster than a sunset. But none of that mattered as long as you made it to the end.

Ian was the next to go with a slit throat as your group battled head-to-head with the Careers. Two of the four were down before it happened, giving you all a false sense of hope. It was in that second of distraction that the girl from 2 sprinted around and tore Ian’s neck open before you could even blink.

Without even thinking, you launched your spear right into her chest as Billy finished off the District 1 boy. The two of you were unaware that each had defeated a tribute, but as your breathing slowed and you turned toward him, the realization hit you like a train.

I have to kill him.

It was a sickening thought, one you wish you’d never have to think about, but one that was entirely fueled by survival. You made a promise to Finnick that you would return. That you would come back. And even with aching limbs and short breaths, you would fight.

So, fight you did.

Billy started making his way to you as you reached the District 2 girl and yanked the spear from her concaved chest. There was no time for sympathy, no time for feelings. Billy wasn’t your friend. Sure, he may have saved you from the guy from 6 and always made sure that you got your share of food, but he wasn’t your friend. He couldn’t be your friend.

You locked down your thoughts as the two of you met in a patch of hip-deep swamp water. The muck below was forcing your feet to sink lower and gave you little grasp, but you lived in the sandy ocean. You knew how to maneuver well enough to use it to your advantage.

You were smaller than Billy as he towered over you at some number over six feet – a sturdy build for a butcher’s life. Which was a disadvantage for the environment. As you could navigate across the ground without fear of adhering to it, he was stuck, weighted down into the pit of swamp.

As he struggled to turn to follow your movements, his hands were briskly releasing knives your way. Try as you might, you couldn’t miss all of them. One lodged in your upper shoulder as another grazed your cheek, nipping off the tip of your left ear. But he wouldn’t have an infinite number of knives, and you could be patient enough for them to run dry.

And when they did, you advanced. Flittering over to him, you adjusted your stance just as Finnick taught you – bracing your arms apart so they could give and move as needed. You caught him in the side at first, until he grabbed onto the other end of the spear and pulled you toward him. He was stronger than you. If he got his hands on you, he could choke you out or drown you as hastily as he wanted, so you couldn’t let him touch you.

As he hauled you closer and closer to him, you steadied yourself. You’d only have one shot at this, and if you missed, it was all over. Taking a deep breath and focusing on the one moment you would have for this to work, you waited.

Not yet.

He was reaching the end of the spear.

Not yet.

He was loosening his grip on one hand to stretch out toward you.

Not yet.

You could feel the heat of his palm as he began to place it on your good shoulder.

Now.

In a flash, you jumped up and around him, securing yourself on his back and throwing him off balance so he couldn’t lay hold of you. Spear forgotten; you grasped his knife still stuck in your shoulder. With a cry, you yanked it out of yourself and stabbed it into his neck. And you stabbed again. And again. Tears were streaming down your face like a river flooded as you made sure he was well and truly dead.

As his heavy body dropped, you released your death grip but not before you fell into the water with him. You closed your tired eyes as you floated in the combination of blood and sludge. Nothing felt real. You were a victor, and you didn’t feel real. For a moment you could almost see your consciousness floating above you in a haze, like you were the one to die rather than Billy. But as soon as it was there it was gone. Instead, a transporter floated just where you had been, and now it was grabbing the winner of the 70th Hunger Games up into its claws once more.

---

Finnick was the first to greet you with nothing but concern on his face. As everyone else tossed cheers and ‘congratulations’ at you, he held onto you and walked you from the crowd. And he didn’t let go even when you sobbed into his shirt, staining it with tears and blood.

A doctor had to stitch your shoulder and cheek and wrap your bleeding ear, but with the Capitol’s technology, it took less than 2 days to heal. And Finnick never left your side for those days, talking about nonsense and the sponsors and the Games and how your family came to visit but you were unconscious from the medication and everything else he could think of that he couldn’t talk to you about before.

You told him about your heart-wrenching fear at every waking moment and nightmares you would have each night in the arena. Sleep was unwilling to take you, and you hardly wanted it to. Not when the arena croaked and screeched with animals and tributes on the prowl. Nothing but pure survival was in your veins, and that feeling was reluctant to leave you even now.

When you were dismissed from the hospital, he didn’t leave your side then, either. He talked to your family and Annie like they had known each other for a lifetime already. It made you happy watching them together. All the people you loved right in front of you, and you were still alive to witness it.

Even with the dark cloud looming over you, they were still the sun’s rays shining through. Small, but strong enough to keep you going.

---

Weeks after the Games and your victory tour concluded, you were nestled in a small reading nook in your home in Victors’ Village. The Games still haunted you, but you found solace in books. In romantic novels that didn’t have death sentences or tyrannical leaders – just two people who were in love and determined to display that in any way they could.

It was a way for you to escape reality, if even for a fleeting moment. Surrounding yourself with friends and family could only help for so long, and more often than not, being around so many people had you reliving the fight between your group and the Careers. The heaviness of the air and the cacophony of sounds had your stomach turning and chest tightening. Usually, Finnick would notice and quickly relieve you of the event by sheltering you outside.

It was a rather common occurrence, which is why you were happy to be in solitude. You told your family that you’d like to live in the house alone, if only for a couple of months, but they were more than welcome to visit you – which your mother did. A lot. She’d bring attempts at dinners and pies, but you were grateful for her and never discouraged her love. You couldn’t imagine the pain that she went through watching her daughter almost lose her life in the arena, so you entertained all of her antics. Almost every time she visited her eyes would drift to where your shoulder scar lay beneath your clothes, and she always kissed the mark on your cheek before she left as well. The reminders were plain to see.

But your solitude was never truly lonely.

“Hot chocolate?” Your eyes broke from the pages in front of you to look at Finnick, who was now offering the delectable drink to you.

You smiled at him and nodded, shifting your position to reach for the mug of cocoa. He sat beside you, offering more warmth than just that in your hands as he glanced at the book resting in your lap.

“Pride and Prejudice, again?” He smirked. “You have a library full and you’re reading this for, what, the fifth time this month?”

You hit his shoulder with your own as you giggled into your cup. Taking a sip and humming as the warm liquid traveled down your throat, you set your cup aside to face him.

“It’s a wonderful story, what can I say.” You confessed to him.

“And,” He reclined back in his seat as he regarded you. “Highly illegal. I still don’t know how you got your hands on that.” Shaking his head, he took his own drink of the hot chocolate and evaluated you with a raised brow.

“Perks of being a victor, as you should already be aware of.” Your smile vanished. “You get secrets, and I get tales to bury myself in.”

Any trace of playfulness withdrew from his manner. Soft eyes looked into your own as he set his cup aside, reciprocating the action to yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered softly.

Before he could say anymore, you snuggled into him, hurting for the man before you. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just– I just can’t understand why they would do that to you.”

Your watery eyes finally traveled back up to his, as he caressed your head with a tender touch. Finnick had finally told you what his days consisted of as a victor – of forced touches and unwanted attention; he was used in the Capitol for his looks and composure. You didn’t take it well, seconds away from marching to President Snow and killing him yourself for putting loving, sweet Finnick through that pain.

It wrecked you even more to know that he dealt with it all for the people he cared about. For his family. For his friends. For you. And that there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it without putting everyone else in danger. The worst that was done to you was parading you around like a show dog on a leash to different events. Perhaps if you weren’t scarred, they would have wanted the same for you, but for once, you could count yourself lucky that Billy hadn’t fully missed.

“Y/N,” he spoke once more as he lifted your chin to gaze down into your eyes. “Please, don’t suffer for me. You know I would do anything to protect you from them, and if this is the cost, then so be it.”

You shook your head as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t have to do anything else for them. Especially not that.”

You couldn’t even say the words out loud, it was so repulsive. It made sense now, why he was always with new and different Capitol citizens at those parties. Why he never looked truly there in the way he handled himself. And it made you want to shove your spear into anyone who would ever try and do that to him again.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really.” He gently smiled at you the way he reserved only for you – with all the love and radiance he could put into it. “I get to spend the rest of my time– the rest of my life with you. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Finnick,” you whispered, hardly knowing what to say to him.

He gingerly brushed the hair back from your forehead as he placed a kiss upon it, hushing you. “For you, my love, I would do anything.”

Your body trembled in his hands from the emotion tumbling around inside you. After the Games, it was hard to let yourself get close to him, for the honest fear of losing him. But he was patient. He waited for you and took his time working through the tremors of the Games that still resided within you. It was hard, it still is, to make it through a day without finding yourself back in that arena, but being around him made it easier – more manageable. He was the part of you that kept you afloat and you were hanging on with both hands to make sure he stayed.

You lost yourself in his eyes – green and blue twirling in an intimate dance, the most beautiful you had ever seen. Truly, there was no other place you would rather be than with him. Every ounce of comfort that you felt stemmed from Finnick, and he felt just the same. To part with one another now would be to rip a heart in two, never fitting the pieces to another.

I love him.

It was a scary thought and, really, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did. You knew for a long time already that you did but admitting it to yourself was the true challenge. Everyone knew it, hell, Annie would constantly ask you when the two of you would just marry already – she had never seen two people as made for the other until she saw you and Finnick. But you were slow to let that part of yourself go. He already had your heart, but now, you would finally allow yourself to have his.

Tenderly, you reached your hands to cup his face – the slight stubble growing on his cheeks tickling your palms. As not to scare him off, you so slowly pulled his head down to yours. Only an inch apart, your mouths breathed onto one another, painting your lips with his scent.

“Y/N,” he ground out in a whimper.

“Finnick,” you echoed back. “I love you.”

The sharp inhale was the only sign that he had heard your small voice. That, and the urgency at which he bridged the gap between your mouths. A whine escaped from the back of your throat at how soft he was – how his lips molded into your own as if fated to do so. You were already addicted to the feeling.

Finnick wasn’t faring much better. His whole head was fuzzy with love and reverence for you as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, bringing you as close to you as he could. Tenderness soon turned into something more as he began to map out the curves of your body with his hands. As you gasped from his touch, he took the chance to sneak his tongue into your mouth, charting that territory out as well.

Happily returning the favor, you too began exploring the body of the glorious man before you. Tongues twisting, hands moving, both your breaths became labored as the need for even more started hazing both your minds. Pulling away for just a moment, you took your chance.

“Y/N,” he practically growled out as you began to shift your hips over his growing hardness. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable yet.”

And you knew he meant it. While the two of you had never crossed that line before, you wanted to use more than just your words to show him how much you love him. You wanted to cherish him, to give him all of you.

“I want to.” You pleaded. Then, you quickly pulled away as a thought occurred to you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about how you might feel about this. Fuck, Finnick, I–”

Before another word could leave your mouth, Finnick covered it with his own, pushing all the love he has to give into you. He coaxed you right back into the kiss, cradling your head close, softly rubbing the flat scar on your ear’s tip. Through a deep breath, he broke the tender instant to glance back at you. Your mind clouded until he spoke.

“Don’t ever think I don’t want you, Y/N,” he reassured. “There is nothing in this world that I want more than you. What happens in the Capitol doesn’t leave me broken, not when you’re still here. And, if you want me, you already have me – I just don’t want you to feel forced into it.”

As he explained his thoughts to you, his hands were delicately rubbing up and down your sides as to console any feelings revolving around your head. He loved you without needing something physical. You were more than enough for him without anything else than just your presence.

“I love you, Finnick Odair,” you confessed for the second time aloud. “And I want to be yours – mind, body, and soul. For as long as you should have me.”

As Finnick’s eyes grew watery from the words torn from your heart, he acknowledged just the same. “I will love you forever, Y/N L/N. And should I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my thoughts will be filled with you. Only you.”

And with the words spoken and sealed in a lover’s embrace, you sculpted your lips around each other once more. Finnick was slow to undress you, taking the time to truly admire the woman that you were. Removing your top, he trailed his lips from your neck to the scar on your shoulder and drifted further down to your breasts.

You held your breath as you watched him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling and teasing the bud with his tongue. Sighing, you tangled your hands into his hair, urging him to continue his actions. Doing just that, he reached one of his hands up to fondle your untouched breast, coaxing out more whines from you from the feeling.

Unaware, your hips continued to grind down on his lap, searching for some sort of friction for the growing heat in your core. While you had reached highs on your own hands and fingers before, you never touched a man like this – let alone felt the urge to have every part of him in you. And damn it, did you ever want to feel Finnick fucking Odair.

As he switched between ministrations on your nipples, he groaned into you every time you caught on his swelling cock. His head was filled with nothing but the thoughts of you and how he wanted to taste and touch you. How he wanted to tempt out every little noise you could make as you reached your peak over and over again. How he wanted to drown in you.

Giving into his raging thoughts, he flipped the two of you around so your back lay comfortably on the cushions beneath you. Hot chocolate cooling and book thrown to some corner in the room, it was just you and him. Nothing else mattered.

Wandering down your body once more, he rid you of your pants and undergarments, leaving you bare in the sun. You were a goddess to him. A picture of perfection. He would never get tired of gazing upon you. Even when the two of you had grown old and grey, you would still be the most beautiful thing, sculpted by the poets themselves.

You watched as his eyes traced your body, and you began to grow self-conscious. Before you could even attempt to close yourself off from him, he grabbed onto your thighs and looked deep into your lust-blown eyes.

“Please, don’t hide from me.” He begged you. “You are the most exquisite being, never forget that. I feel like the luckiest man in the world to be able to even glimpse your beauty.”

Sentiments swelling your throat, you nodded up to him and relaxed into his touch. Seeing your newly eased state, he kneeled on the ground as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. Gazing upon your core, a growl emerged from the back of his throat. Your slick heat was practically begging to be filled by him, and who was he to deny such a pretty little thing?

He kissed up the innermost parts of your legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. Before you could issue a complaint to stop teasing, he licked a warm stripe up your pussy, and you gasped. Head thrown back and hands immediately finding purchase in his hair, you were hooked.

He nuzzled his nose into your clit as he began to touch your core with his tongue, forcing out mewls and whines from your mouth. Reaching up his hands, one gripped onto your legs to prevent them from wrapping around his head, while the other spread your lips so he could dive even deeper into you. Flicking and cooing, his tongue continued to taste your slick as he moaned into you from your flavor.

You began rubbing your hips up and down his face as you continued to chase your high. He was too good at this – you’d never last long at this rate.

“Finnick, ahh,” you chanted his name like a choir of angels, and your voice went straight to his cock.

Wanting nothing but his name on your mind, he inserted a finger to begin loosening you up. The slight stretch already elicited a whine of pain from you. His digit was so much longer and thicker than your own, and you had a feeling his length was even more so.

As soon as he felt you relax around one, he slipped in a second. Scissoring around your cunt, he sucked on your clit to keep you slackened. You already felt so full. But as soon as all the discomfort turned to pleasure, you wanted more than just his fingers in you.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. “Finnick, I, shit, I want to feel you.”

He sighed into your pussy at your pleading state. Closing his eyes, he continued slipping his fingers in and out of you, getting you even further toward your orgasm.

“Not yet, love.” He insisted in a gravelly voice. “I want to taste you on my tongue first. You can do that, yeah baby? Want to cum in my mouth? I know you can do it. You’re such a good girl.”

You whined as you shut your eyes and continued stirring your hips on his face. He placed his lips back over your clit and thrust his fingers even faster into your heat. The sound of his knuckles squelching against your wetness was driving him insane, but he wanted to– no, needed to taste your essence before putting his cock into you.

As you felt your climax crawling nearer, your pussy clamped down around Finnick’s fingers, not wanting to let go. Your hips became erratic as you felt the familiar tightening in your lower abdomen – rising from your toes to the tip of your head. Finnick moved and slurped like a man starved, aching for you to lose yourself on him.

With a few more movements and a cry loosened from your lips, you released right into Finnick’s waiting mouth. He cleaned up every last drop, not wanting any to go to waste. You continued to ride out your high as he removed his lips from your bud. Once he felt you tire from your spend, he slipped his fingers out of you.

You watched with hungry eyes as he licked his fingers clean, eyes rolling back as his cock leaked from the wonder of your taste. Moaning as he popped them out of his salivating palate, he quickly moved to rid himself of his shirt. Reaching his arms back behind his neck and tearing the shirt from his torso up around his head, his eyes never left yours.

“I knew you would taste absolutely fucking divine.” He proclaimed to you as he started stripping his pants off. “I bet you feel just as good.”

Gasping, you finally laid eyes on his cock. Thick and girthy, you had no idea how it was supposed to fit in you. While it wasn’t ridiculously long, the stature of it made up more than enough. And as Finnick saw you fixed upon his hardened length, he twitched, which made you whimper up to him.

Bending back down to hover over you, he covered your mouth with his lips, allowing you to taste the salty remains of your own release. Moaning into his mouth, you gripped onto his bronze locks once more, lifting your hips to graze your now swollen clit against him.

He groaned and swiftly grabbed onto your hips to push you down. Backing from the kiss, he asked you one last time, “Are you sure?”

Breathless, you answered. “Yes. Please. I’ve never been surer about anything.”

Staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but certainty, he nodded.

“This is going to hurt, at first.” He stated. “Just try to stay relaxed and I promise you, you’ll start to feel good soon enough.”

Bobbing your head, you dug your nails into his shoulders to brace yourself as he glanced down and began to line himself up to your still-sweating heat. As he pressed the tip into you, you inhaled a sharp breath. Finnick immediately looked up to your face.

“It’s okay. Breathe, my love.” He took his hand and caressed your face. Settling a tender kiss on your lips, you started to breathe normally once again. Taking it as his cue to continue his insertion, he pressed back into you.

Slowly, so achingly slowly, he rocked his length into you. Taking the time to pull back and forth, he was easing you through the tight pain in your cunt. You were biting down on your bottom lip and your eyes were sealed shut from the sting of it.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just a little bit more and, shit, I’ll be all the way. God, you’re so tight, fuck.”

Finnick was trying his hardest to go slow for you, but the way that your cunt was compressed around him was like a drug. He wanted more, he wanted to move, but he would never place his own needs above your own. He watched your face for any sign of unordinary discomfort, but he saw none, so he inched further and further until he was fully sheathed into you.

Groaning, he dropped his head into your neck and panted out. As you adjusted to his size, the discomfort subsided. Sighing out as well, you started to lift your hips in your attempt at receiving friction. Finnick moaned and bit down into the softness of your neck.

“Move, Finnick, please.” You whimpered into his ear, already drunk on the feeling of his cock in you. You were so full, practically pushed to the brim, but you wanted more of him. You wanted him to make love to you.

Listening to your words, he dragged his cock through your walls as he moved in and out of you. Feeling your warmth rub against him was nothing short of amazing – there wasn’t anything that would ever compare to the feeling of you.

The two of you moaned in tandem as he thrust a particularly harsh plunge into you. You were scraping his back, leaving red angry lines as you wrapped your legs around his fit waist. Even in your inebriated state, you couldn’t help but admire him. For more than just his handsomeness, Finnick was the most gorgeous thing inside and out, and you couldn’t believe that he was yours. You would do anything for him to smile at you, to give you soft kisses to your temple, to just be.

So, you took hold of his head from where it was leaving marks on your neck, and you clashed your teeth together in a heated kiss. He was quick to reciprocate and grip onto your ass as he continued drilling himself into you, mouth never leaving yours.

You were the one to break the kiss as you leaned back to moan from the feeling.

“Fuck, Finnick. I love you so much.” You were rambling now, high off nothing but the way he was making you melt into his arms. “Please don’t leave me. I couldn’t, ah, live without you. Need you here. Always here. Mmm, my Finnick.”

He continued his movements as he gazed at you, love and lust battling for dominance in his sea-green eyes. “I’ll never let you go, Y/N. You are mine as I am yours. God. I was made to be by your side. Oh, Y/N. To always be with you. Would never leave you. My heart, fuck, is yours forever.”

The two of you were incoherent, rambling sentiments of love and sweet nothings to the other. Both of your climaxes were approaching, wanting to cum at the same time as the other. Skin on skin and sweat dripping upon each other, this was a plea of love, a confessional. Never to leave, always to stay – your hands were tied together as Finnick kissed you softly once more.

In contrast, his hips picked up the pace, as his fingers found your throbbing clit once more, pushing you to reach the top with him. His movements became inconsistent as he grew closer, knowing you were on your way as well by the way you were clenching down on him.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed at you. “Cum with me. You’re so close, love, I can feel it.”

“Yes, yes!” you whined at him. “Wanna cum, wanna cum with you. Ah, almost there, Finnick, don’t stop.”

Moving your hips with him, you both panted as the light grew brighter. He sped his twirling fingers up around your bud, begging you to peak with him. And as the two of you whined and whimpered louder and louder, Finnick thrust hard and deep into you. With this one last push, you both roared a moan as you came in and around the other.

Slowing his motions, Finnick allowed you to ride out your orgasm as he spilled his seed in you. Your legs twitched around his hips as you came down from your high. Head tilted back, you breathed hard and fast as your heart pounded. Finnick wrapped his arms around you as he held you close, still buried inside you.

For just a bit, the two of you stayed like that – together as one. Your pants eventually withdrew and were left with nothing more than the beating of the blood in your veins. He tenderly pulled out of you, leaving you empty of nothing but the soreness in your hips. Rubbing small circles on the aching joints, he kept his head close to yours. He then started kissing all over your face, making you giggle.

Chuckling along with you, he saved you from the attack by pulling away and looking at you with pure love and adoration. Mirroring his visage, you tenderly stroked his cheek as he sighed into your palm.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact he knew true in his heart.

Your eyes widened at his words, stilling your actions for a moment.

“Not tomorrow,” he laughed at your shocked expression. “Perhaps not a week or month from now, but one day I will. And that day will be the happiest of my life.”

Tears brimmed along your eye line, but it wasn’t sadness blurring your vision. Joy, excitement, and love were making their presence known in this strange way, and you didn’t know how else to respond to his worrisome look except to smile at him. Smile with your heart and soul to the man who was everything to you. And he smiled back the way Finnick Odair only smiles at you: uninhibited and overflowing with fondness.

Nestling into him as he repositioned you both on the seat, you contently sighed into him. This is what you fought for in that arena. This is why you promised that you’d win.

For vulnerable moments like this. For nothing between you and the man you love except the warm skin of your bodies. For the chance to live and not survive. For him.

With those thoughts in your mind, there was only one way you knew how to respond to him: with your truth, not a secret, and not in fear.

“Yes, I will marry you, Finnick Odair.”

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