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SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS ITS SO GOOD I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER AND YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THAT CONVERSATION WITH FINNICK??? MAKING ME SCREAM AND GIGGLE AND KICK MY FEET.

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢𝐢. 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

❛𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦 ❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, bandaging wounds, mentions of lack of food/food aversion, finnick odair being charming, etc.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.4 k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | When you see the tag 'friends to lovers', believe it. Finnick and Lyssa's friendship is so sickenly sweet it makes me hate myself. I love a good enemy to lovers as much as anyone, but I CANNOT write that for Finnick. I tried. But this is a slow burn, so y'all get that.

Once we pushed through the crowd of people and reporters that had already gathered around the train station, we were ushered into the dining car. There was an extravagant meal set out on the long table. The steam and scent rising from the bowls of soup, baskets of bread, trays of cheese, and more made my mouth water. I held myself back from devouring the whole spread. Hector had no such reservations; he sat himself down and loaded his plate.

"Do help yourself, dear." Sabine instructed when she saw me standing there. "I'm going to inform your mentors that you're here."

After she left, I continued to stand, gazing at the meal before me. It's not that I didn't want to eat; I did. While 4 wasn't necessarily a poor district like eleven or twelve, there was a severe separation of those who were well off and those that struggled. My family had the misfortune to be part of the half that struggled. So yes, I very much wanted to eat, but I was afraid of throwing it back up since my stomach wasn't used to rich Capitol food.

"For crying out loud, sit down and eat." I was startled by Hector suddenly talking. He pulled out the chair by him and patted it. "Come on."

I hesitantly sat down and reached for a slice of the steaming bread. If I ate a little at a time and slowly, maybe my stomach would have mercy on me. When I finished the bread, I took a piece of cheese and another slice of bread and placed the cheese on top.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Hector asked. "Don't you eat that on a daily basis?" When I gave him an incredulous look, he got a little flustered. "Sorry, it's just that folks from your part of 4 don't have a lot. I figured you'd want to try the turtle soup or whatever that pink stuff is."

"I don't want to overwhelm my stomach," I answered. And if I'm being honest, I'd feel extremely guilty if I gorged myself on Capitol delicacies while my family was home going hungry.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense," he chuckled. When I didn't say anything else, he took that as a sign to keep talking. "My brothers would be going nuts over this stuff."

I furrowed my brows. "You're the mayor's son. Don't you eat all this stuff all the time?"

"Only on special occasions," Hector said.

I hummed in response and continued with my bread and cheese.

"So, do you have any siblings?" Hector asked.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "You talk a lot." I regretted it immediately, as he seemed to shrink into himself. "I'm sorry," I said hastily. "It's just that during the reaping, you came across as the silent type."

"I was scared out of my mind."

It was silent for a moment before I spoke. "I have a sister."

Thinking of Shae and my family reminded me that I shouldn't be talking to Hector like a friend. Eventually, he'll be my enemy, my openet. I should be putting a wall up. Not making small talk with someone who would be trying to kill me in a week.

I stood to excuse myself just as the door to the compartment slid open. Three people walked in, and I recognized them as some of the Victors of 4. Everybody knew of them. Every year at school, after the games, we'd have a lesson on the newest Victor. The lessons lasted a week, but if the winner was from our district, then it stretched into two weeks.

There was Clay Ledger, tan and tall. He won almost a decade ago. Apparently, he killed two opponents at the same time by bashing their heads together. People say he's the king of kindness, though.

Then Midori Hall, with her pretty dark skin and romantic brown eyes. She's one of the most desired women in Panem. She's also deadly; in her games, she hid up in the trees and dropped down on her enemies to deliver the killing blow. Since she won, she's been acting as a nature activist.

And the last one, Finnick Odair. He's by far the most famous. He won his games at fourteen, the youngest in the history of the games. Since then, he's been dubbed the heartthrob of the Capitol. All the women want him, young and old. He's got the typical beach guy handsome thing going for him–sandy blonde hair and sea green eyes. Like the beach personified. Don't let that fool you, though. There's a reason he's a victor.

"I'm Midori." The dark haired woman introduces herself. Her voice was soft but held an air of firmness. She was also taller than I imagined. "This is Clay, and-"

"Pretty boy doesn't need an introduction," Clay teases. He shakes Finnick's shoulder playfully. The grin the older victor wears is almost sickening, but I can see it isn't fully genuine. That fact only strengthens my knowledge that, even if you came home a victor, that doesn't mean you won. You still have to live with what you did. With who you are now. "I'm sure they know who he is, Midori. We're old news compared to Finnick."

The younger man's lips tilt in a small smile, his dimples making an appearance. Then he shoves Clay off of him in a way I can't decide is good natured or not. "Thanks for that, Clay." Finnick says, taking a few steps to the side to ensure he wasn't jostled again.

I look on and wonder how they can act so casually. How can they act like they're in such good spirits? Maybe they're not, and I'm already seeing everything as fake, as a threat.

Clay offered a smile at Hector and me and moved to take a seat at the head of the table. "Sorry to get right down to business, but we haven't got a lot of time."

Midori stood behind him. There were rumors that they were together, but they've never gone public with it. "First things first, are there any special skills you have that we should be aware of?"

"I was trained at the academy," Hector said. "I was pretty good with hand-to-hand combat."

"Good," Clay nodded.

"What about you?" Midori asked me.

"Not anything really," I said sheepishly. "I guess I'm good with throwing knives. My dad taught me."

"Okay, that's good," Clay said. "You're both very promising."

Finnick nods and finally decides to contribute to the discussion. "The other tributes will be just as good, if not better, than you, though. So be sure to take full advantage of the training days offered to you."

"Yes," Clay agrees. "The few days that tributes are allowed to train will give you vital chances to practice your skills and give you a higher chance of winning."

"Have you seen much of the other tributes?" Hector asks, still nursing a bowl of some Capitol dish.

Midori sighed and claimed the chair to the right of Clay's. "We reviewed the reaping footage earlier, and so far, one and two are looking the strongest." No surprise there. Districts one and two almost always produce the best tributes. "Six and five also look good, but none of the others stood out."

"You got all that information from watching the reaping?" I chime in. Midori nods her head from her seat. "So the other mentors analyzed us?"

"Most definitely," Clay replies smoothly.

I thought of the other mentors watching me shuffle my way to the stage and mumble through the questions asked of me. It put an uneasy feeling in my stomach. "What do you think they have to say about us?" My eyes fixed on Finnick, directing the question to him. Somehow I knew he'd be honest.

"Hector looks strong, and he has the intimidation factor. The mentors will warn their tributes to be aware of his size and strength." Finnick pauses and purses his lips before moving onto me. "You? You're small, but you're lean, so you obviously have some mussels, but your appearance will make others underestimate you. You'll be an easy target for tributes."

Even though I asked and I knew he'd be brutally honest, I still couldn't help the deflation of my already hazardous mood. I nodded my head while biting my lip. My mind was ushering me to the blank oblivion that it craved. "Okay, any suggestions on how to fix that?"

"Well, for one, you could stop bleeding on the tablecloth." Finnick pointed out in a voice that sounded a bit shocked.

I suppressed a weary laugh as I looked down to see the growing red stain on the once white tablecloth. "Oh, great," I chuckle.

"Why are you bleeding?" Hector asked, alarmed.

"Doesn't matter." Finnick answered for me. "We need to get that bandaged, or else Sabine will lose her sequins." He moved and motioned for me to follow him.

"I can take care of it myself." I assured him, even though I was right behind him already. I longed for a moment alone just so I could get a grip on my nerves.

"You don't even know where the bathrooms are, do you?" He asked. I remained silent. "Yeah, I thought as much, so stop being modest."

I followed Finnick out of the dining car. My eyes roamed the broad expanse of his sweater-clad back, focusing on the pristine threads. I wanted to be sick, and only the reminder of the food I ate made me swallow it down. I wished my hands would stop shaking, but it was that or break down in front of Finnick Odair. That wasn't something I wanted to experience.

The man in question stopped abruptly, and I almost ran into him. My bloody hand shot up and caught me. When I hurriedly jumped back, there was a red stain on the pure white fabric of his sweater. I couldn't help but imagine the rest of my blood seeping out of some wound as I lay dying on the ground of the arena.

Finnick craned his head back to look at me. "Sorry," I muttered. "I got blood on your shirt."

His shoulders shrugged nonchalantly. "I have other ones."

The door to a bathroom whooshed open, and I found myself standing among marble countertop and glimmering gold-accented walls. I couldn't hold back my grimace as I took it all in. It seemed completely ridiculous to need a bathroom to look this over the top.

"Here, sit on the counter." Finnick instructed as he rummaged through a cabinet on the opposite wall.

I hopped up onto the vanity, leaning my back against the smooth mirror. As I waited, I held my hands together to control the shaking.

"You don't have to do this for me." I said as Finnick held a cloth under the water faucet. "I know how to bandage a small wound."

"My job is to help you, Lyssa." He stated, taking my hand and whipping away the dried blood crusting on my palm. "Besides, you're going to want to save as much of this as you can for the arena."

I laughed humorlessly. "Thanks for the advice, mentor."

Finnick looked at me with a severe expression. "I'm serious. It's going to be brutal in there." His face was a mask of grim understanding. I should be taking his words seriously, but all I can think about is how my damn hands are still shaking. How Shae is probably laying in my bed right now, just as worried as I am. How the chances of me surviving are incredibly slim.

I shut my eyes and rested my head on the mirror. I could feel tension pounding at my skull.

The sound of a package being ripped open met my ears, and I soon felt the soft touch of gauze being placed over the cuts. "I'm going to die in the arena." I announce faintly.

"You will die if you go in thinking like that." He promised, finishing up with putting the bandage on my hand. "If you'll get over this 'I'm doomed' attitude, I'll help you." I met his fierce eyes, but I thought I saw a sadness lurking in them that seemed too genuine to be fake.

"How are you going to make sure I survive?" I asked, leaning closer to him off the sink. "I'm not any different from the other tributes, and like you said, they're probably better than me anyway." I couldn't meet his eyes. I couldn't look at them and risk seeing the same hope and faith I saw in my family's faces.

"You have such little confidence in yourself," Finnick scoffed. He'd finished dressing my cuts, but he didn't back away. "You said your father taught you how to use throwing knives, right?" I nodded. "Build on that skill during training, then. And I'll help you learn how to make the Capitol like you so you'll get sponsors."

I hopped off the sink, my hand now taken care of, but my mood did not improve even with Finnick's uplifting words. "It's not going to be that easy." I grumbled under my breath.

Finnick walked out of the bathroom and waited outside the door for me. "It won't be," he agreed. "But don't you think you owe it to your family to at least try?"

"You're a lot different than I thought you'd be." I find myself saying.

"Oh," he chuckles.

I nod. "Yeah, I think I would've liked to meet you under different circumstances."

He smiles, and it's like a light is being shone down on him from above. "How would you have liked to meet?"

"Maybe at the market," I shrug.

He laughs as we turn a corner. "That would've been great," he agrees. "I would have been busy looking at the plants."

"And me being me, would have run into you because I never look where I'm going, truthfully." I built onto his little scenario.

"I would have rushed to help you up because that's just the gentleman in me. We would have introduced ourselves, and I'd offer to carry your bags home for you as an apology," he continued.

I turn my head so I can see him, and he's still smiling. His eyes still held that strange sadness behind them, though. It confused me some, I'd always had the impression that Finnick loved everything to do with the games. But he didn't seem to be too happy at the moment.

"That would have been a lot nicer than this." I mumble in conclusion.

━

My designated bedroom is impressive. The lush carpet and warm colored walls were surly designed to put one at ease. It has the opposite effect on me. I resent the comfort I have at the tips of my fingers because it reminds me that my family is at home. That they aren't here to share in this luxury with me.

The ceiling I stare at is becoming increasingly more boring with every passing minute. I've been laying in the lavish bed for hours now. Tossing and turning under the duvet, which in normal circumstances, I'd be overjoyed to be covered up with. I have too many thoughts racing through my mind to even contemplate sleep. I get tired of the restlessness, so I slip out of bed. I opened the door as quietly as I could. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to wander around or not.

I have no destination in mind as I find myself in the dining car once again. The table is bare now. The tablecloth with my blood stained on it and the extravagant meal are now gone.

Finding nothing of interest in this room, I move on. I find my way to the last compartment on the train. It's a lounge area with a big circle couch along the back wall.

I don't know how long I sat there by myself. I could've spent hours watching the twisting shadows pass by the train window. I imagined Shae crawling into bed with my parents, seeking comfort in their embrace since I wasn't there. It eased my troubled watered thoughts to picture her snuggled up between them. I found solace in the fact that they all had each other.

I thought about all the things I didn't get a chance to say to them. The goodbyes I would have said and promises I would have made. My mother always said that I had this talent for disappearing into my own head. I've always been grateful for this gift, for the ability to help myself when nothing else could. Right now, it came in really handy. Instead of thinking of how I might very well die, I think about other things to keep my mind off of it. I don't want to think about how I'll react once I actually let it dawn on me.

"Couldn't sleep?" Hurtling headlong into my messy thoughts, I hadn't even heard the door slide open. But there was Finnick standing in the moonlight with rumpled clothes and bedhead.

My heart raced for a split second at the sudden sound of his voice, but I let out my startled breath and relaxed back into the cushions.

"I could ask you the same thing." I responded, eyeing him cautiously as he took a seat next to me. His eyes looked tired, and there were distinct purple bags beginning underneath. I couldn't help but think he looked slightly striking like this. Loose clothes and sharp features made soft in the silver glow of the moonlight.

"I know it won't help," he spoke slowly. "But you really shouldn't stay up. You're going to want to rest as much as you can. Sleep is hard to come by once you're in the arena."

I didn't respond right away; I just kept gazing out the window. My hands had stopped trembling hours before, but my thumb kept rubbing across the bandage that was resting on my palm. I thought back to what Finnick had said when we left the bathroom.

"I haven't given up," I swore. He turned closer toward me as I took a deep breath. "You said I have no confidence in myself; well, you're right. I don't know how to do the things you have to do if you want to survive in there." I took another shaky inhale and clasped my hands together to stop their movement. "But I don't want my parents to lose their daughter. I don't want my sister to be alone."

Finnick leaned forward on his elbows. "I swear to you, Lyssa, I will help you as best I can. But you have to promise me you won't let go."

"Let go of what?" I questioned.

He caught my gaze with his wild ocean eyes. "Of that storm inside you. The storm that's keeping you connected to your home and family. That storm will keep you alive."

"How can you be so sure, so confident in me? You don't even know me." I wondered. I tucked my legs under me, trying to shrink in on myself once more. Everything felt so raw and real at the moment. Maybe it was because it was the dead of night, and I was tired. I got the feeling that either one of us could say anything right now and it'd be the honest truth.

That caught me off guard. I'd never been a very trusting person, but I tried not to judge a person until I could make an honest impression of them. I was ashamed to admit, though, that I'd already judged Finnick Odair the moment I watched him in his games. Then he worked his way through almost every woman in the Capitol the moment he turned sixteen, and that only solidified my impression of him. I insisted that if I were reaped, I would never act like that. Sitting on this train with him, though, made it hard to condemn him for anything.

Finnick leaned back to rest his head on the sofa's plushness. I didn't know why, but I was glad it was him who found me. Anyone else, and I'd be completely on edge. "Because you're my tribute. I want you to have your best chance at victory." He stops himself from saying anything further. His short response hides a deeper meaning that I can't identify right now. But I have the feeling that it's true concern, and it's at that moment that I'm faced with the fact that Finnick is nothing like the Capitol act he disguises himself as.

"You put on a good show, you know," I say carefully. His face tenses for a moment, and then he hesitantly laughs as if he just caught on to what I meant.

"Well, I have been told my acting skills are something to be craved after." He jokes, and I think I glimpsed a wink through the darkness.

"You're a lot kinder than I thought you'd be," I admitted.

He smiles softly. It makes his already handsome face even more enthralling. Even though I've agreed to give it my all, I still have the urge to apologize for the obvious fool I'm going to make of myself in the arena. I want to apologize for being clueless and for the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing.

I want to apologize for the disappointment I might be.

"It's getting late. You should try to sleep." He pushes himself up and off the couch. "Goodnight." I look up to meet his gaze, and he's smiling at me. I decided that I like it when he smiles at me. I don't pause to think why. He pads away back to his room, leaving me in the dark by myself.

Later, as I twist under the covers again, my thoughts are filled with something other than my death looming over me.

God, I feel so bad for the things I'm gonna put them through. But any who as always, I hope you're enjoying and please feel free to comment and reblog. <3

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#fic recs!#THIS IS SO GOOD WTF #I LOVE THIS #SO SO SO GOOD #EVERYONE GO READ #ngl this reminds me to go continue writing the merciless siren #HELPPP #okay it’s my turn to write #BUT THIS IS SO GOOD #I WISH I COULD WRITE LIKE THIS

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