#Finnick Odair

[s0urw00lf]

All in time

Summary: finnick is on a mission to convince the world you aren’t what they think

Request: Finnick odair with reader who is strangely unsettling with like a creepy personality but also a sweetheart and she confuses everyone so much

Fic type: fluff/angst

Pairing: Finnick odair x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Boarder by @cafekitsune

An: i kinda hate this. But i hope you enjoy reading it more than i did writing it.

The games had changed you. And not for the better, the cheerful person you were when you were chosen was long gone by the time you stepped foot on that train to the capitol. Your walls went up and they were made of pure steel, no one was able to break your barrier. Until you met Finnick, it was like he just walked right through them with no problem whatsoever. He was quick to break down your barriers, only to see the complete sweetheart you truly were, the way you cried when you remembered all of the lives you'd taken in the arena, the memorial wall you'd put in your home for them. The way you secretly worried for everyone in the arena during every game, hoping they'd call it off right in the middle of it so no one else had to die. But of course, nothing good ever happens in the capitol. Which is exactly how you wound back up in the games with Finnick. Everyone was fairly wary of you, much to Finnick dismay.

Today is the first day of training, and while Finnick was walking around making allies, you were practicing your trident throwing accuracy, (which was pretty spot on) until you looked over to see Finnick making his way over to you with a small smile on his face. “You know it'd be a hell of a lot easier to make allies if you didn't look like you'd kill the first person who walked up to you,” Finnick said leaning on the trident stand. You sighed “I know, but it's stupid when almost all of us are gonna die anyway.” you said as your body thrust forward, throwing the trident and successfully hitting the target. You turned to him, making eye contact with his bright blue eyes. He nodded over to his right, you looked over and saw Katniss Everdeen, your blank expression quickly changed into one of slight panic, “absolutely not” you said shaking your head. Finnick started nodding his head muttering ‘absolutely’ over and over as he nudged you over towards her. “Come back with an ally,” he said from behind you, as you sighed and begrudgingly made your way towards the struggling girl. You hadn't been one for socializing, and you weren't as intimidating as people made you seem, in fact you were more afraid of not being liked than anything, but the facade helped you protect yourself.

Katniss currently had her back towards you, trying and failing to throw the knives and land them in the place intended. “You’re a badass archer, but your throwing is horrible,” you said in a monotone voice. She turned towards you and a look of shock crossed her face when she saw that it was you that was talking to her. her posture straightened “You know who I am?” Katniss asked. Your brows raised, “Everyone knows who you are, you and your boyfriend are a literal one in a million. Most beautiful love story in all of Panem.” You said. Katniss grimaced, “sorry, I just heard-“ she said before cutting herself off. You nodded, telling her that you already knew what she was gonna say. You pointed to the knife in her hand, “may I?”. She nodded handing you the knife and moving out of the way. you took her place in front of the target and put your arm in the growing position before pausing to show her, “Your stance was wrong. You wanna hit your target you have to get the correct stance.” You finished, before unpausing your position and throwing hit knife. You smiled looking over at her “Bullseye” you said letting a smile slip. You moved to get the knife from the target and walked back to Katniss holding it out to her mentioning for her to try again. She nodded taking the knife and tried to replicate your stance, before letting the knife fly at the target. Your brows raised surprised “Pretty good Everdeen” you complimented. She didn’t show any emotion but you’re pretty sure that’s just her. “Thanks,” she said in her quiet voice. you looked back at Finnick who was still resting in the same position, leaning against the trident stand, he nodded and you sighed quietly turning back to Katniss. “Knife throwing takes time and practice, so let me do the throwing and you stick to the shooting alright?” You asked holding out your hand, hoping shed catch your drift. She looked at you warily, but ultimately shook your hand. You smiled, and she gave you the best one she could muster “See ya” you said making your way back to Finnick who looked decently surprised. “See wasn’t that bad, you just needed a little push,” he said. You rolled your eyes, “you’re lucky she’s not unbearable, you would’ve been my target had she been” you joked with a smile

~~~~~

After you came back from rescuing Peeta and Johanna from the capitol, you were sitting on your and Finnick's shared bed when you heard a knock on the door. You made your way over to the door and when you opened you were met with a crying Katniss, you were instantly hit with worry, “are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked pulling her into the room. She shook her head “I just wanted to thank you, for everything.” She said. Your brows raised in surprise. “I second-guessed Finnick when he told me all you guys wanted was to help us, I didn’t trust you and I'm sorry, “she said solemnly. You shook your head, “you had every right not to trust me, or him. I didn’t fully trust you either” you admitted. You hugged her, you knew she wasn’t a touchy person, but you felt like she needed it. She hugged you back, before pulling away. “Finnick is lucky to have you, and I’m glad he put everyone in their place for you.” She said. You frowned in confusion, “what do you mean?” You asked. “In the arena when you’d gotten separated from everyone else he was a mess, but Johanna made a comment, saying you were probably scoping us out, seeing which ones to kill. He went ballistic and said anyone who thinks you’d kill them is just as brainwashed as the rest of Panem. Said he’d been more likely to kill us if it came down to it. Said you’re in no way whatsoever weak but you’re damn sure not a monster.” She finished. You frowned, you hadn’t known this piece of information, but when you’d reunited with the group you had wondered why everyone had such a drastic change of heart towards you. Even the stone-cold Johanna. Katniss understood the look on your face pretty well, having worn it herself. She stepped away “I’m gonna go I just wanted you to know that I'm thankful for everything.” She said and you nodded, “you’re welcome,” you said as she left

~~~

Not long after Finnick entered the room. You quickly stood and ran to hug his tall frame placing your arms around his shoulders. “Not that I'm complaining, but what’s this for?” He asked as his arms slithered around your waist. You looked up at him with the most love-filled eyes you’d ever given him. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” you said. “Finnick was still confused and he let the confusion show on his face “Of course not,” he said. You backed away “I had a visit from Katniss, she thanked me for everything but she told me something else.” You said to him, he nodded telling you to go on. “She said you stuck up for me to Johanna. Told her and everyone else that you were more likely to kill them than me.” You said as tears brimmed your eyes. “What did I do to deserve you?” You asked. Finnick leaned down and placed his lips to yours, capturing you in a love-filled kiss as his arms brought you closer to his body. He kissed you as if his love depended on it like all his love for you was in that single kiss. He pulled away but kept you close. “Y/n, you have the most amazing soul I’ve ever seen. And people deserve to see it, to feel what it’s like to be cared for by you, even if it isn’t romantically. Y/n you are a gem, with such rarity that anyone would live poor just to have you by their side.” He said with the softest eyes, a voice so full of emotion that you couldn’t pinpoint which one was which. “I love you Finn,” you said, in this situation you didn’t know what else to say. “I love you too darling,” he said pressing another kiss to your lips.

[an-old-lady]

Did a new Hunger Games line up, this time Catching Fire era.

[highladyofterrasen7]

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[mrsnancywheeler]

okay i absolutely love 🐚 anon’s thoughts on finnick loving reader’s body hair. i’m all for not shaving and embracing it. how do you think finnick would make reader feel more confident and comfortable deciding not to shave? like it’s something she’s always wanted to try but has been worried about what her partner would think.

number one, finnick would make it known that he loves it, like he can't help it when he notices and a big grin breaks out on his face. because to him it means you feel comfortable enough with him to not follow societal standards of beauty that he's sick of anyways. he also thinks the natural body is just so beautiful, he's so so tired of the way the captiol will rip every bit of hair slightly out of place off of people, just make everyone so sanitized. the human body is raw and personal and real, so all the little natural things he just finds so much beauty in.

he's totally the type of guy to be giving you a foot massage, notice you haven't shaved your legs, smile, and just, "I love you." and whenever you're nervous about having not shaved he's shutting that down real quick.

if you're on your way to the market to grab some things before swimming so you've thrown on a swimsuit cover and then it's like, oh shit, other people are going to see me and I haven't shaved. "oh, damnit-"

"what's wrong, honey?"

"I just need a second, I forgot to shave, and have to go do that."

"why do you have to shave?"

you can't help but laugh because it feels obvious, that's what society expects. "look at me, I'm so hairy and gross-"

"hey, hey, don't say that, it's beautiful, you're beautiful." and when he says it that genuinely, it's hard not to believe him, his eyes so eager and loving. "I mean if it makes you itchy or uncomfy then do it, but not just because other people, it's perfect, you're perfect."

and you can't help but smile at him, "you're such a sap."

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor Pt. 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Five more years of victordom have passed, but the Capitol is still throwing surprises at you. This time, in the from of

Part Five

A/N: SURPRISE! This is coming back because I felt like it and some lovely folks left comments recently ♥️ we can blame my absence on this semester, but thank putting off a 14 page final paper for this bout of productivity! (Also I was going for a ranch vibe with this pic? I'll start putting his face back on these soon lol)

Warnings: description of blood

Tears welled in your eyes as you finished dicing yellow onions, and you wiped your face with the back of your arm as you turned to scrape them into the pot. Caesar Flickerman’s voice floated in from your living room, the TV playing in the background so you could keep an eye on the quarter quell special. Count on Caesar to draw the whole thing out, emphasizing the significance of the anniversary and whatnot. You couldn’t help but be curious, though. The last quarter quell had fifty tributes, and you weren’t even alive to see it. You had, however, seen its effects on your occasional drinking buddy, so you were certain this year would be a doozy. 

It seemed Caesar was finally getting to the point as you began chopping a red pepper. He introduced the President, and your hand tightened around the knife as Snow began his address. That voice haunted your dreams, and hearing it at home was far more unpleasant than anywhere else. You did your best to tune him out. That was, until he announced it. 

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third quarter quell games, the male and female tribute are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your ears began to ring, and suddenly, you couldn’t hear the rest. Existing pool of victors. Existing pool of victors. Sharp pain brought your vision back into focus, and you blinked to find blood from the backs of your knuckles spilling over your pepper. Though your brain stopped moving, your hands hadn’t. 

You took a silent step back from the counter, staring at the ruined cutting board. Tearing your gaze away, you started rifling through cupboards trying to find a towel. The ironclad grip your dominant hand kept on the knife wasn’t helping, but it certainly hadn’t occurred to you to let it go. Out of options, you shoved your hand under the faucet and watched water carry excess blood away.

Vaguely, you registered the pain in your hand as your water heater got to work, but your eyes stayed locked on the drain. A loud ring of the phone startled you out of your reverie, to the point where you’d launched your still-dirty kitchen knife into the wall next to it. But it pointed you in the direction of some towels, at least, and you snatched a clean one from the laundry basket on the stairs. 

Sat on the second to last stair, you hunched over to wrap your hand. The world felt surreal as you stared at your shoddily covered wound, only looking up when your door burst open. You weren’t surprised to see Darla. Her scraped knees, bloody nose, and breathlessness didn’t shock you either. She probably fell when running over, but you were sure you looked just as frazzled. Grabbing her a towel from the basket, you nudged her with it before she could sit. 

“Answer Finnick.” 

She picked the phone up from the receiver, doing a double take when she registered the kitchen knife. 

“Howdy,” she huffed, licking her top lip and clearing some blood. 

You could barely hear Finnick’s resigned tone from the other end. “Hey, D,” he breathed. “How’s…” he trailed off. 

“Well, there’s blood on the cabinets,” your head popped up when she said it. You hadn’t even noticed the trail you’d left in your wake, “Water on the floor, and a knife in the wall.”

The faucet was still on, too, and you definitely hadn’t turned off the stove. It was a relatively generous assessment from her. 

“Will you put her on?” 

Darla stuck the phone straight in your face. When you grabbed it she reached for another towel, and pushed it along the floor with her foot. 

“Finnick,” your tone was almost too even for the circumstance. 

“Don’t do it,” Finnick warned, knowing you far too well. 

“Save it,” you shot right back, “I know you’re thinking it too.” 

“I don’t have a choice,” he said firmly. "They all have kids. Who would I be if I didn’t?” 

Though Darla was busy cleaning up after your spell, you weren't stupid enough to think she wasn't listening. “You know I feel similarly,” you chose your words carefully. 

Finnick did know, he’d seen what you’d given up for Darla. How you’d put yourself through the wringer for years just to spare her. He had no doubt you’d act just the same now. Only he didn’t want you to. He would’ve hated seeing Darla in there, but he’d be a dead man if you were in the arena with him. Your stubbornness didn’t stop him from making a final plea. 

His soft call of your name cut your heart worse than you’d cut your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer bear speaking to the man who’d been your constant for the past five years. “I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll see you soon, Fin. Take care of yourself.” You stood and shoved the phone back on the receiver before he could say another word. Talking to him, thinking about him, neither would help you hold yourself together. 

You stepped away from the phone, but stopped in your tracks to look at the knife. Some of your blood still lingered. 

“Leave it,” Darla called from the kitchen, “it’s a bold new piece of decor.” She’d taken up interior design in the wake of her victory. You shook your head with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lip. 

Coming to her side, you both looked down into the pot she’d taken off the stove. Burnt onion wouldn’t make much of a base. “There’s leftover pasta in the fridge,” you offered, sadly. 

“Yes please,” she nodded quietly. You passed behind her to heat some up, and she settled onto one of the stools at your counter. It took you a minute one-handed, but Darla seemed too absorbed in quiet reflection to care. 

She dug in as soon as you slid her a bowl, but you stopped short before sitting down with your own. She raised a brow. 

“I’ll be back,” you shook your head, taking your dish and slipping on shoes. The wind whisked straight through your clothes as you crossed the street. 

Darby had never been close with you, nor Darla. He was there when she won, and you could tell he was somewhat relieved to only bring home one casket. But you weren’t close enough for him to tell you that, because he wasn’t your trainer.

He wasn’t even there when you’d won. The story was that Darby was too ill. It was true, only the illness was drug induced. District Ten had only one trainer that year. 

The woman who had trained Darby had trained you, and you were the last District Ten victor she’d lived to see. Sam was kind but incredibly sharp. Gentle, yet challenging. Observant and astute, she’d assessed you for all you were and marketed a more palatable version to the good citizens of the Capitol. Beyond helping you survive the games, she helped you navigate the aftermath. Without Sam and without your Nana, you wouldn’t have lasted a month outside the arena. She picked you up and dusted you off again and again like your mother had when you were a girl who thought she was invincible. No time had hurt as badly as losing your first tributes, though, but Sam saw you through that too. 

Before your second try at mentoring, however, she’d died. A horseback riding accident was the official story, but Sam had left the leather watch she loved at your house just before. She insisted on doing the dishes after you’d made dinner, and you later found it by the sink. Sometimes you swore you caught glimpses of her long silver braid. Each time it happened, you opened the drawer of your nightstand to stare at her watch.

Her death hit Darby hard, they’d been the only two Ten victors for a while. He hardly held it together during Darla’s games. Afterwards, he fell apart.

You’d been mentoring with Darla ever since, comforting her with each loss as Sam had with you. But you knew Darby had seen this announcement, and everyone in the district knew what it meant. 

You stood at his door a few minutes after knocking. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you felt compelled to come over anyway.  

A blue eye peaked from where the door had finally opened a crack. You held up the still-steaming bowl as an offering. Darby pulled the door fully open and stalked off into his house. Trailing after him, and closing the door behind you, you noticed how skinny he’d gotten since you’d last seen him. 

“Thanks,” he said, raspy, when he took the bowl from you finally. You could only nod. 

“I’m sorry,” you offered, knowing full-well how little it meant. Darby only sighed and shook his head. 

He shrugged, stabbing a fork firmly into the bowl. “I always had that feeling,” he shook his head. Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he went on, “that it wasn’t over. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. They own us, of course they’d want us back.” 

His passe tone rattled you. You nervously wiped your non-covered palm on your pants, “Right.” You looked around his dusty home awkwardly, “Well, see you soon.” Trying to leave him in peace and for your own, you made for the exit. 

“I’ll say hi to Sam for you,” he said from behind you, mouth full. It stopped you in your tracks. You couldn’t even look back at him. 

“Thanks.” 

————————

The months leading up to the reaping were hellish, with you and Darla trying to shed your rustiness. You insisted you both throw your all into prepping for this, but that was mostly a ruse. Volunteering for her had been your plan since the announcement. At the very least, you enjoyed your time at home with her. You hadn’t gotten any calls about trips to the Capitol, and Finnick told you he hadn’t either. At least they were letting you enjoy your last few months alive. 

As Winter went, and Spring too, the day had finally come. Off to die for the second time. 

You zipped the fly on a pair of jeans you hadn’t ever worn. Your stylists had shoved them in your closet a long time ago- since they looked exactly like the ones you’d won in. The head gamemaker your year had a background in fashion, and gave tributes plenty of chances to change dirty or worn clothes in for unique ones.  People loved the look so much that denim had been a brief Capitol fashion trend. You figured it’d send a message to anyone who knew. After all, you’d cheated death in these once, you could do it again. 

You were up early, and since you and Darla had agreed to arrive separately, you took a long walk around your home district. Your long lap, with sights you’d grown up loving and smells you’d always scrunched your nose at, was met with a few pitying glances. Eventually, it lead you to the Justice Building, and you took an extremely early seat. People took their places as the hours passed. 

"Remember, it’s just for show," Sam’s voice rang in your head. It was the last thing she said to you before you entered the arena. 

“Hey,” your head snapped to your right where Darla took her seat. She looked tense. You took her hand and squeezed it, a silent reassurance. It’s not you. You’ll be ok. I’ll miss you. 

The district filed in for the ceremony, unusually unorganized. The only people the Peacemakers were concerned about policing, however, were already on stage. 

Your annoyingly vibrant district escort began the ceremony, and you ignored her for as long as you could bear it. “Ladies first,” you blinked to attention, head held high. This was it. Dug your nails into your palm to stop your hands from shaking. You swallowed. I volunteer as tribute. You willed the words to the front of your brain, hopefully convincing your mouth to form them when the time came. 

But you didn’t have to. She had called your name. You willed your face to remain impassive as you squared your shoulders. You forced yourself to take a proud step forward. Perception was everything here. You couldn’t look weak, not to the capitol, and not to your fellow tributes. 

“I volunteer as tribute!” 

Your well-crafted mask fell with the words. Shoulders sank as you turned to her in shock. Not once did you think she’d volunteer for you. But you could almost hear Finnick’s voice reminding you how similar you were. It was why you got along like a house on fire. Only, this time you had been so recklessly loyal to her you’d miscalculated. And it would almost certainly cost your tribute her life. 

“Darla,” you breathed, quiet enough for only her to heard, and sharp enough for it to come across as scolding. 

She didn’t even turn your way. 

You were escorted straight to the train before Darby could even be picked by default. The new (old) District Ten tributes were escorted straight to the train as well. Only then could you confront your mentee. 

“What the fuck was that?!” You stood in a rage. She walked right past you toward the couches, but you caught her wrist.  

“You don’t get to scold me for saving your life,” she shook her head, and tugged her wrist free.

“Sure I do, when you’ve acted like a fool! It was random, D! We agreed to let it be random!” 

“Oh, that’s rich!” She scoffed. 

“Excuse me?!” 

“You’re still lying! You really think I didn’t know you were going to volunteer for me?” Darla asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. She fell back onto the couch. 

You stepped back, anger fully dissipated. “What?” 

“You hung up on Finnick nearly every time I’d walk in,” she shrugged, “you’re brave not subtle.”

Your shoulders sagged, and you lowered yourself onto the luxurious Capitol sofa next to her. For a second, you let your head fall into your hands. 

“Still,” you persisted, looking straight ahead, “it was going to be me. You didn’t have to-“ 

“I know what all you’ve done for me,” she said simply. You sat straight up, finding her face with wide eyes. No.

“Finnick?” He wouldn’t. 

“Johanna,” she shook her head. Your shoulders sagged. It made sense that Johanna knew, she was almost in the same situation. And you wouldn’t have expected them to keep things from each other, not before they broke up at least. 

“Darla,” you started. Why hadn’t she confronted you when she found out? How long had she been holding on to this knowledge? Did she think differently of you? 

“You’ve been falling on your sword for me for five years,” Darla said solemnly, “it’s high time I took it away from you.” 

Your stomach ached, and tears blurred your vision, “D.” 

She pulled you in for a hug when your voice broke. “You gave me my life back,” she whispered, “I’m only doing the same.” 

You pulled away from her, wiping vigorously at your face. “I won’t watch you lose.” 

She sniffled a wry laugh, “then make me win. Maybe this time it'll stick.” 

————————————————————

taglist: @emerald-09 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @daixylie @fandomhopped

@axelinchen

@whens-naptime

@avoxrising

@erindiggory

@commanderfreethatdust

@blackdxggr

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@iheartspderman

@slytherinfolk25

@cassiecasluciluce

Sorry if you no longer want to be tagged and sorry for this formatting (Tumblr is confusing and it's the only way the tags would work?) ! Let me know and I'll remove you from (or add anyone who wants to be on) the list

[thedelicatearcher]

modern!finnick odair can't sleep without his minion pjs and it's no secret minions 2 is one of his favorite movies of all time. he went to the universal studios park with the sole intention of meeting gru and the minions, and he has the photo with them framed on his room

[shaunashoochiebae]

assigning a hunger games character to a yellowjackets character!!!

shauna - coriolanus

jackie - lucy gray

callie - katniss

misty - peeta

mari - coral

van - finnick

laura lee - rue

lottie - effy

natalie - haymitch

tai - johanna

that’s all ty for reading !

[lilmaymayy]

ya girls sick so any sick fic recs would be amaze😍😍😍

[justgayloringeverthrone]

You people really need to accept that all the "romantic" interest Katniss has in Peeta is shared trauma and survival habit. Like, Finnick even said it himself. It's not even that hard to comprehend, but you just straight up reject the idea. You'd rather her be with a man who stalked her and ghosted her than be single or with Gale. See, Peeta is okay in later CF and when he isn't hijacked in MJ, but y'all just make me hate him.

[allisluv]

i don’t remember where i saw this but i remember seeing someone headcanon finnick as demisexual and i definitely see the vision so i can imagine him probably being relieved to that learn reader is also demisexual

i had never thought of this anon but it makes so much sense!! i think finnick would be slightly relieved to know that you didn't like him just because you were sexually attracted to him. it separates you from the capitol people he sleeps with and it makes him fall even more in love with you

*i'm not one hundred percent educated on what demisexuality is and while i did try to do my research, if anything ive said can be viewed as hurtful or incorrect, please let me know and i'll try to change it <3

[stephsycamore]

I think the most radical thing the hunger games does is tell young people that the most revolutionary thing you can do is have unconditional love for humanity. Katniss throughout the entire series is guided by a deep sense of compassion for the people around her. It is what causes her to volunteer, to bury rue, to mercy kill cato, its why she tries to save peeta, why finnick telling her to remember who the real enemy is works, and even though her compassion for the larger world falters when peeta is kidnapped, it comes back when she visits hospitals and asks for mercy for other victors and ultimately, it is love and belief in a better humanity that makes her kill coin. Through it all, she maintains an unfaltering belief in the fundemental goodness of humanity, which is diametrically opposed to dr gaul's and snow's worldview. Peeta is even more unwaveringly compassionate

So the series tells young people that the most revolutionary thing you can be is compassionate. Let compassion drive your politics. Let yourself believe in the fundemental goodness of people. And i think that's deeply important in a world that touts the superiority of pure reason or logic, to allow yourself to be guided by something as emotional as compassion. Katniss everdeen tells us that your politics should be rooted in compassion in a world that thinks detatchment or cynicism is intelligence and i think thats v cool

[vivicendium]

i think something that elevates the hunger games franchise is not just the quality of writing but the integrity of it. tbosas isn’t just a cash-grab by suzanne collins in the age of sequels and reboots (though i won’t pretend that didn’t play a part), it’s a character study of the main antagonist with a different structure than the main trilogy. and importantly, it doesn’t just re-hash the same old themes and beats the main trilogy had, it expands on not just the world of the hunger games but the themes as well, it actually has something new to say about the trilogy’s themes about class, capitalism, power, and control, in a way that couldn’t be explored with the main story because the protagonist of that story simply did not have access to the world that’s being explored in tbosas.

i understand the people who call for books/movies to be made about haymitch, finnick, johanna, different years of the games — we love those characters and want to see more of them! i’d kill for a novella on finnick’s days mentoring tributes, or katniss’s parents falling in love. but at the end of the day we probably wouldn’t be very satisfied with those stories being fleshed out if they had absolutely nothing new to say about the world, they’d be enjoyable, but not as interesting and engaging as tbosas has been.

[cashmeresglimmer]

The survivors of District 12 singing and dancing at Finnick and Annie's wedding hits so different after reading/watching tbosas. Can you imagine Snow's reaction to that propo? No matter how hard he tried to erase Lucy Gray and to obliterate District 12, she lived on in her music, music which is kept alive by the people of the place she once called home.

[odairfilm]

In the epilogue of Mockingjay, Katniss only refers to her children as 'the boy' and 'the girl'. We never learn their real names. Throughout her life, Katniss has never really been allowed privacy or the ability to make many of her own decisions. Whether this was caused by the living conditions of the Seam and having to constantly provide for Prim and their mother, or by the fact that she was forced into the scrutiny of the public eye when she was reaped/volunteered and became the face of the rebellion- The Mockingjay.

So then all of this passes, she and Peeta are living together in District 12 in the Victor's Village, and they are finally allowed to choose how they want to live. After 15 years, she decides that she's ready to have kids. They can be raised in a safe environment with no Games, no threats. So the one choice she makes at the end is to keep their names from us, the audience. The one thing that gives us our identity before anything else. The one thing that, essentially, makes us who we are (also Suzanne is so meticulous with picking names throughout the series, so it would be special to Katniss and Peeta). She decides that that's only for her and her family to know.

We, who have literally seen every inch of her life from the reaping up until now, are being told that no, we don't get to see parts of her life without her permission anymore. And it always makes me so emotional. Like yes! Take back your life! Rest. Live. Love. But on YOUR terms and no one elses.

(I posted this on my TikTok acc @narniachrons as well. It wasn't stolen, I swear!)

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

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.”

[lady-corrine]

Thinking again about how Suzanne esentially subverted the "beloved famous man that is actually a horrible person in real life" with Finnick, who is the complete opposite of that.

Finnick has this whole image costructed around him by the people that abused him for years: the Capitol's darling, their golden boy, the sex symbol of Panem, the man that has countless lovers but leaves them constantly and doesn't look back etc. And you would expect, initially, to meet a man that retains at least a part of that persona in his day to day life. But Finnick doesn't, not even one bit.

You see instead a man that is deeply in love and completely devoted to the one woman he quite literally adores, a man that protects Mags, his old mentor and his mother figure, as much as he can, a man that wouldn't leave Johanna behind, a man that gathers whatever strenght he has left to speak publicly about the abuse inflicted upon him at the government's hands; the opposite of what the Capitol's media and reputation made him out to be.