#finnick odair x yn

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle. 

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case. 

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise. 

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder. 

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack. 

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up. 

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left  shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out. 

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too. 

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively. 

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees. 

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—” 

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[your-averagewriter]

“I will always wait for you."

Summary: (y/n) is rushed into the hospital of District 13 after being rescued from the Capitol. After a lot of distress, Finnick and (y/n) reunite. (Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: violence, talk of trauma, injury, kissing

-

-

I feel my head lull backwards, I don’t even have the strength to look up properly but even so, my head feels abnormally heavy. The hospital cloth scratches against my burnt skin but the feeling is still better than that of the sodden outfits I remember only too well. The sounds of machines, beeping and beeping in my ears irritate me to no end, mimicking the sounds of the sirens and alarms before the imminent terror of the cells. Blinking my eyes shut and clasping my hands over my ears I try to stop myself from thinking but all I can hear is Snow’s smug voice through the speaker and I can see his smirk with it. 

I open my eyes again to see a bland corridor, nothing but grey walls but I can hear the incessant beeping and doctors yelling. Others in hospital beds and gowns rush down the hallway and I notice a few familiar face. I can’t think of who they are, I recognise their faces but where from I don’t know, I stop thinking about it as my head starts to hurt even more.

I try to sit up but somebody pushes me back down and I don’t have the strength to protest. There are shouts to up my dose and I try to protest but all that comes out are incomprehensible slurs. I quickly feel the effect as my eyes roll back and I suddenly feel tired, even more so than usual. 

The bed isn’t soft but it’s certainly an improvement on the prison beds which makes it even easier to just fall asleep. Feeling my eyelids droop I let them, in desperate need of some rest and sleep. 

Only moments later I feel myself gain consciousness and I immediately sit upright, this time not stopped by an attendant. Sadly, the constant noise hasn’t stopped, machines, people, everything and everyone is making a noise it seems and my hands fly to my ears in desperate need of relief from the sounds. My eyes are hot and I can feel tears stinging at my eyes begging to be released. My fingernails dig into my scalp as I grip my ears, desperately trying to block out the noises but it’s all in vain because as soon as I block out surrounding noise I can hear Snow in my head again, taunting me. At any moment he could take me back and torture me, he could kill me and my family - he might have already. His threats in my ear only provoke more tears but I’m quickly attended to by strangers dressed in weird uniforms.

They try to remove my hands from my ears but as each one touches me I push them off, scared of what they’ll do and scared of the sounds they’ll let in if I hear again. After pushing away their grasping hands the tears only flow more, all eyes are on me, even the patients in the beds around me are looking at me (the ones I can’t quite remember have a special look in their eyes and I can’t tell whether it’s pity or understanding).

Doctors are shouting commands and nurses are still grabbing my hands but despite my now weak frame, I spent weeks or months of blocking out the sounds they threw at me, refusing to listen but then they got inside my head.

This ordeal continues for merely a few moments more before all the doctors and nurses step away, I look at them confused through my teary eyes but then relief washes over my face as a familiar figure walks through the door. Finnick. He rushes towards me followed behind by a few others who run to other patients.

He wraps his arms around me but my hands still don’t budge from my ears until he reaches his hands up and places them on top of mine. His hands are calloused but somehow still soft, the corners of my lips upturn slightly before returning to the straight line.

He’s talking but I can’t hear him until he turns around and I assume yells at the doctors as they quickly scurry out of the room leaving only us and the other patients. He turns back and his eyes are on mine. He’s always had the most beautiful eyes, the green specks in the sea of his eyes, even if I forgot Finnick I could never forget his eyes. Gently, he grips my hands and slowly pulls them away from my ears, I resist at first but then relent, relaxing my arms and letting Finnick bring them down in front of us. He places a soft kiss on each of my hands before laying them down on the bed.

Leaning forward towards me he wraps his arms around my frail body, gently, careful not to hurt me. I rest my head on his shoulder before burying my face into the crook of his neck and wrapping my arms around his neck. My breathing is short and quick as I feel my tears dampen Finn’s shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The warmth of another human is a feeling I have not felt for a while, it seems like forever. I can’t even remember how long ago it was I last saw Finnick but it was too long ago separated by what felt like years of constant torture.

He pulls back but his hands remain gently resting on my waist as I’m sat up in the hospital bed. He places his forehead on my mine and closes his eyes whilst I mimic his movements. This was something we always did, before we got separated and repeating our little ritual brings back not only happy memories but the most important and meaningful ones. 

“You’re okay now,” Finn says quietly, his forehead still resting on mine. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He says and even with everything that had happened recently, I believe him entirely. I nod slightly and gently as I can’t bring myself to say anything. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, it takes a couple of tries to finally get the simple words out. Finn chuckles softly.

“I’m okay. You’re the one you should be worried about.” He says leaning back slightly to look at me. “How are you feeling?” He says now holding onto my hands again.

“Fine.” I croak out.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“What?”

“Anything.”

“No more than normal,” I say as an attempt at sarcasm but he only responds with a pair of sad eyes and a discouraged face. Silence fills the room for a couple of seconds but the sound of the machines hasn’t stopped. “When can I leave?” I say, my head drooping slightly at the high drug dosage.

“Not yet.” He says pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely looking at my disappointed expression. 

“I missed you so much…” I say quietly, placing my head on his chest. “The hope that you were alive and waiting for me somewhere was what kept me going.” I say, getting tearful again.

“I will always wait for you no matter where or when.”

-

AN: I know everyone's in their Hunger Games phase right now so I thought I'd contribute even though I'm in my Hunger Games phase all the time.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Requests: Please note these will be likely shorter than my longer requests (I say that but you all know me 😂). These cannot contain a lot of specifics or anything like that. Rather, it’s a simple concept and a character. Limit is 1 request per follower for this option given the time it’ll take to do these.

what about finnick odair x wife!reader where he has to go back to the games and she waits for him and they reunite back in 13 and she is glued to his side during their time there cause she's afraid to lose him and it's like hurt comfort and fluffy <333

Heartbreak’s Cure : Finnick Odair x Reader

Descr: 5k wc, Finnick and his wife reunite in District 13 after Finnick returns from his second Hunger Games and they help each other through the aftermath of him being reaped a second time. Hurt-comfort, flangst

Warnings: hunger game type content and applicable warnings, trauma, sadness, mentions of Mag’s death, mentions of Finnick’s background (including brief mention of Snow selling his body).

“Finnick!”

“Fin!”

“Y/n?”

“Honey?!”

“Fin!”

The couple’s screaming continued as they raced toward the sound of the other’s voice.

Y/n sprinted around the corner of the dull gray slabbed walls of the medical corridor when her eyes finally caught sight of who she’d been searching for; her husband. The air left her lungs and her body abruptly halted upon seeing him.

Finnick had been bolting down the hallway when y/n suddenly appeared as she turned the corner. He briefly paused in breathless relief before he once again began charging towards his wife.

Y/n copied Finnick’s needy rush and ran straight into his extended arms. She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he lifted her up. She hooked her legs around his waist as he held her to him so tight it was difficult to breathe. But she couldn’t care less. He was alive! He was home!

Finnick spun them around as he closed his eyes and admired the way it felt to be able to hold his loving wife once again. “Hi love,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hi Finny,” y/n whimpered. “Are you alright?” She asked, leaning back against the supportive hold he had on her tailbone so she could see him.

“I’m perfectly fine now y/n/n,” Finnick vowed, pulling her back to him and protectively holding her tight in his arms. He was so relieved his sweet wife was okay. That Snow hadn’t been able to harm her before she’d made it to District 13.

After a heartfelt kiss between them, y/n pulled away as her worry took over. “Let me take a look at you,” y/n pressed, not believing Finnick‘s well meaning reassurance. She again leaned back while staying in his arms, her legs still around his waist as he held her up. She frowned as her eyes noticed the multitude of scratches along his face. “Liar,” she whispered with a pout.

Finnick chuckled lightly. Damn he had missed her.

Y/n hopped down from Finnick’s arms and grabbed his bicep. “C’mere baby,” she cooed as she lead him to the nearest stretcher. “Here, sit down,” she instructed. When he complied, she kissed his forehead and gave him a warm smile. “Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts,” she commented as she quickly pulled over a tray of random medical supplies. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there any injuries I can’t see?” Y/n continued to interrogate worryingly.

“Honey,” Finnick smiled. He gently grasped y/n’s wrist as she softly tried to clean his skin.

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but I gotta clean it,” y/n explained, giving her husband a sympathetic frown.

Finnick grinned admiringly and shook his head. “It’s okay, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he explained softly. “Breathe Honey, I’m okay”. Finnick lovingly rubbed his thumb against the inner side of her wrist to soothe her.

Y/n set the washcloth down with a sigh. She wanted to help her husband. She looked around to take a quick inventory of the room. It had been awhile since she was last in this wing. Seeing a stack of cases of water bottles, she hummed and hurriedly sprinted to it. She effortlessly pulled out an unopened bottle and brought it back to Finnick with a small smile. Surely he was dehydrated! “Here, drink this, it’ll help.”

Finnick replied with a sympathetic sigh. He understood why she was fussing over him, he’d have been much worse if the roles were reversed. But, it didn’t mean he wanted her worrying so much. As such, he sipped on the water she’d passed him; not mentioning to her that on the flight back here, the nurse had hooked up an IV to help his fluids. After taking a considerable drink, he twisted the cap back on and took ahold of y/n’s hand. “Honey,” Finnick softly scolded, tugging her hand away from the water bottle as he tried to get her to stop fretting over him. “You look really good in my sweater,” he commented, changing the topic as he took notice of what his wife was wearing.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up, prompting her to bashfully look down at the stretcher’s wheels. She let her eyes flicker briefly to the sweater in question before biting her lip and slowly lifting her gaze to Finnick’s. “I.., sorry, I needed something that smelled and felt like you,” she explained.

Finnick shook his head, a prideful smile now gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize,” he commented lovingly as he tenderly guided her closer by curling his thumb resting under her chin. “Were you okay honey?”

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” y/n smiled. “That’s all that matters,” she hummed, leaning closer as she moved her hands to cup her husband’s defined cheeks.

“No, no,” Finnick argued. “How were you while I was away?” He repeated, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “What all happened? What did I miss?”

“Me,” y/n giggled with a smug smile.

Finnick chuckled, his cheeks turning a soft red. “Well that goes without saying, my dear,” he winked. After a moment of silent bliss, he turned his expression to a look that communicated he wanted her to give him an actual answer.

Y/n shrugged. She’d struggled while he’d been gone. But he didn’t need to know the depths of that. At least not right now. She knew her husband well enough to know it was futile keeping a secret from him. Even if it was for his own sake. He’d know at some point. For now though she would keep it as vague as possible without hurting his feelings by keeping it inside. “Nothing other than just worrying about you,” she murmured quietly, eyes closed.

Finnick frowned in understanding. “Oh love,” he purred, his fingers reaching out to grip the material of his her their sweater.

“I .. I got your message though,” y/n elaborated, peering into Finnick’s loving eyes.

Finnick grinned and tugged y/n closer to him. “Good,” he murmured, fingers moving to trail her cheeks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about your death like that again though, Finnick Odair,” y/n scolded in a soft voice.

Finnick chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Odair,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/n was resting beside Finnick’s medical cot in the hospital corridor of District 13 when she felt him stir. She quickly set down her notebook and faced her husband. She frowned lightly as she noticed the confused look in his eyes. He had been sleeping when the medic came in to adjust the medication dosage coursing through his veins. It had been like this off and on for the last few hours, so y/n hadn’t paid much mind to it until she felt him stir beside her in response to it.

Finnick tried to keep the tears from building up in his eyes as he tried to scoot away from whoever the person was beside him. He had thought he made it back to y/n, to District 13. But he didn’t remember being put under and upon opening his eyes he saw a nurse-like figure standing before him in a medical room so clearly he’d been dreaming. Of course he had. He’d been dreaming of his precious wife and making it back to her ever since he’d been reaped for the second time. He didn’t recall anything after the arena collapsing in on him. He thought he had, but he had clearly been dreaming of those events. So he figured he must’ve been captured after their attempt to escape the games. As such, he presumed this nurse before him was from The Capitol. It was the only explanation for why his wife wasn’t by his side when he thought he’d reconnected with her earlier. Hence why he began resisting the medic’s attempts to adjust whatever they were pumping into his body through the IV in his right arm.

“No, no, no, no, no, hey,” y/n rushed out, turning to face Finnick more directly. “Finnick? Hi, I've got you,” she informed him as his frantic eyes darted to her face. “You're safe. Finnick, can you hear me?” She asked, noticing the distant look in his sea-green eyes. “They're here to help you, you need to let them help you,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand.

Finnick’s eyes snapped down to his hand as he felt a squeeze. He looked back up at y/n and gazed into her eyes as the pieces returned to him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had escaped the games. He’d made it back to y/n. She’d been beside him the whole time. He just hadn’t looked to his left upon waking up.

“That’s it, babe,” y/n cooed encouragingly. “They are just helping your body heal,” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Finnick hummed in relief. His hands moved to wrap around his wife. He held onto her as he tried desperately to not cry against her shoulder. He was home. He was back with his girl.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Finnick pouted playfully. To emphasize his point, he stretch his right hand and the attached IV over his lap to poke y/n’s side.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at her husband in question. She’d been giving him plenty of attention. In fact, she was certain he had to be growing tired of her constant presence and fussing over him. “You need more attention?” She questioned knowingly.

Finnick nodded with a smug smile. “From you? Always,” he grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly as her cheeks flushed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

Finnick resumed playing with y/n’s hand he was holding. “The luckiest,” he agreed proudly.

Y/n simply bashfully bit her lip and buried her head against Finnick’s bicep as it rested on his cot.

“I’m tired of laying here in this stupid bed though,” Finnick said to explain his earlier comment.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed. She lifted her head off his arm to look down at him.

“I want to go home,” Finnick said, almost whining.

Y/n frowned. “I know, I do too,” she acknowledged. “But, Finnick, we have to stay in District Thirteen until it’s safe to go back,” she reminded him cautiously.

Finnick shook his head. “I know, I didn’t mean home-home”.

“What?”

“Not as in District Four,” Finnick elaborated. “While that would be nice,” he hummed, “I meant wherever it is here that our home is now, wherever you spend your nights”.

Y/n smiled adoringly at her husband. “Let me go ask them again when you can leave, I doubt it’s changed, but if you promise me you’re feeling okay, I’ll try to persuade them,” she offered.

“I promise,” Finnick nodded with an appreciative smile. He tugged y/n’s hand back just as she went to head towards the hallway, “but be quick”. When her head whipped around quickly, her eyes full of concern, he blushed before hurriedly explaining his thoughts. “‘Cause I missed you,” he whispered shyly, grinning again when his wife kissed the top of his head lovingly.

Y/n closed the door to their bedroom behind her as she and Finnick entered the hall. She turned towards her husband with a timid smile. They were about to head out for a light stroll so she could show him around. “Can I hold your hand?” She requested quietly, needing to physically feel his presence to remind her he was here after so long.

Finnick smiled, “you never gotta ask, sugar”. He kissed his wife’s warm cheek. “But, I have a better idea”.

“Which is?”

“Piggy back ride?"

“Finnick,” y/n scolded, shaking her head. “You should be taking it easy,” she reminded him. When he playfully rolled his eyes, she glared protectively back at him.

Finnick hummed and took ahold of y/n’s hands. “I promise I’m fine, honey. I wouldn’t put you through dealing with the aftermath if I wasn’t,” he promised.

Despite Finnick having convinced y/n he was able to give her a piggy back ride, she wasn’t done being protective over him. She’d just gotten her husband back! She wasn’t about to let something happen to him! As such, she had been doing everything under the sun to protect him from even minor things like loud noises, bright lights, etc.

Finnick knew what y/n was doing and her reasoning behind it. So, he’d complied with her wishes and heeded her warnings, all while smiling bashfully. He was beyond appreciative of his wife’s considerate measures. And he found her actions insanely cute.

They couple had taken a quick break so y/n could help one of District 13’s other residents find the supplies closet. Luckily the room was nearby, so she was not away from her husband for more than a handful of minutes. However, when she returned, she was less than pleased. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Y/n hissed at Mike, one of District 13’s leaders. He was evidently having her husband help him move some boxes of equipment. Y/n knew the boxes with the particular symbol that was on the one Finnick had been about to pick up were often pretty heavy. It was certainly not something Finnick should be doing right now! “He just got back, have Gale help you with carrying that!” She critiqued with a harsh glare.

Finnick sucked in his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh lightly or smile at y/n’s behavior. He shrugged minimally at the man beside him before he made his way over to his wife. “I’m okay, angel,” he cooed in a hushed voice so only she could hear.

Y/n nodded silently in response to Finnick’s reassurance. She gave Mike another sharp glance and then took her husband’s hand and led him away from the room.

Finnick froze momentarily before he stiffly turned to face y/n. They’d been eating lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria when he suddenly heard her sniffle. Why was she crying? “Are… are... are these good tears? Or bad tears?" He asked quietly. He only got a hum in response, making his brows furrow further. “Y/n?”

“Both”.

“Both?”

Y/n nodded. When she felt Finnick’s worried eyes on her, she shrugged. “Bad cause I missed you and I was so worried,” she explained. “But, good cause you’re home now”. She knew she was speaking in broken sentences, but it was the best she could do right now without breaking down from her emotions.

“Sugar,” Finnick whined sympathetically. “My sweet girl.. I’m so sorry-”.

Y/n rapidly shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Finny,” she whispered lovingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to. I just, I don’t know I just…”

“Shhh...just let me hold you,” Finnick instructed warmly. He knew how to make his wife feel better. He grinned as she wasted no time sliding down the bench to him and snuggling up. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

“Promise?”

Finnick swore his heart both soared and broke over the sweet but scared tone of y/n’s voice. “I promise angel,” he vowed, smiling to himself as she buried herself in his hold even further.

“No, no, you need to lie still,” y/n instructed as Finnick yet again fidgeted. There were resting in their shared bed, almost about to fall asleep when he’d begun tossing and turning.

Finnick turned to face his patient wife’s beautiful face. He batted his long eyelashes at her. “Baby, could you play with my hair?” He requested in a gentle whisper. He closed Jo’s eyes as y/n instantly complied with his wish. “That feels so nice,” he murmured.

“Good,” y/n smiled, her fingers dancing through Finnick’s sun-dyed golden locks.

“I missed you,” Finnick whispered blissfully.

Y/n smirked playfully. “You missed my fingers in your hair,” she teased.

“No,” Finnick argued, holding y/n’s wrist to stop her playing with his hair for a moment. He turned his head to look up at her. “I’m serious, I missed you,” he replied with a frown.

“Hmmm, I know sweetheart,” y/n informed her husband, craning her neck to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

“I was so worried about you,” Finnick admitted as his mind went back to his worries over y/n’s wellbeing during his time in the arena.

“I’m never letting you go again,” y/n declared warmly. She tightened her grip around Finnick’s chest as he peered up at her at an angle from where he lay on her torso. “Snow will have to pry you from my dead arms. No one is going to hurt you anymore Finnick,” she spoke protectively.

“Hmm,” Finnick hummed as he inched his way up. He kissed her head lightly before lowering himself back down to use her as a pillow. “Don’t talk like that, honey,” he scolded lovingly. “I’m not losing you either.” He closed his eyes as he turned so his cheek was pressed up against her chest. “We’ll finish this out together, that’s the only option. Okay?”

“Okay,” y/n agreed quietly as she hugged Finnick tightly. “Now, sleep, my love. I'll keep you safe."

Y/n woke abruptly as she felt her husband tossing around beside her in bed. Her eyes snapped opened as she heard his whispered cries. A frown instantly formed on her face as she quickly sat up and turned to face Finnick. She softly shook him. “Finnick.. It’s me, it’s y/n. It's okay, it was just a dream." When his eyes finally opened, they were wide and watery as they analyzed their bedroom. “You're not there, Finnick. You're home, you're safe,” she promised, being able to read his worries without needing any verbal explanation as to what he’d been afraid of.

“Fuck, I …,” Finnick winced slightly, hating that he’d cursed in front of his dear wife. He was also so proper around her, declaring she was too precious to hear such profanities. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He felt horrible for having woken her. He knew how tired she’d been from sleepless nights as she waited for him to return. She should be asleep… not taking care of him and his nightmares. He knew she didn’t mind, she’d helped him through similar ones countless times before. But still, she should be resting. “I’m sorry.., I didn’t… I was back at the-,” he began rambling quietly.

Y/n nodded quickly and squeezed his clammy hand. “It’s okay, I know sweetheart,” she cut him off so he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. “What do you need? What can I do for you right now Finny?”

Finnick’s shiny eyes lifted to meet his wife’s compassionate face and he gave her a timid smile. “I just want to be held for a little while. I’ve missed your touch,” he murmured.

Y/n smiled warmly and opened her arms. “Come here baby,” she instructed as she pulled Finnick to her chest.

Finnick shuffled down the bed so he could rest his head back on y/n’s chest. Like he’d done hours ago, before he’d moved to her side so they could sleep. “Like I expected, you're much comfier than my pillow,” he muttered softly as he nuzzled into her.

Y/n grinned and craned her neck in order to kiss Finnick’s scalp.

Finnick’s fingers played with the material of y/n’s sleep top. “D-do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” He questioned hesitantly. He wanted her to sleep, but he really needed this.

“We can stay like this as long as you want sweetheart.”

Finnick hummed in relief and snuggled against y/n further. His eyes began to become heavy again, but he kept blinking to stay awake.

“I'll protect you. They've never going to touch you again,” y/n promised, playing with Finnick’s hair the way he adored and always seemed to soothe him. As she noticed his eyes looking tired, she slowed her combing movements slightly. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now”.

Y/n futilely tried to pull her muscular husband away from the cracked door. They’d been on their daily walk when they passed by the mission center which happened to have it’s door slightly parted. However, it was what had been playing on the screen inside the room and the sounds it caused to float into the hallway that caught Finnick’s attention. The crew in the mission center had seemingly been reviewing various clips from the latest games. Unfortunately, it turned out they happened to be passing by just as Mag’s death began to play.

“No,” Finnick argued weakly against y/n’s attempts to pull him away. “I deserve to watch this,” he croaked. “I caused it, I need to live with the pain of that”.

Y/n gritted her jaw and furrowed her brows. She had to keep her anger in check. She wasn’t mad at Finnick, just at his statement. Her precious husband didn’t deserve any of the atrocities he’d had to endure. “You've suffered through enough,” y/n declared firmly but kindly, pulling her husband’s head to her shoulder. She whispered loving words to him as she lead them down the hall and back to their room.

As they reached the doorway to their bedroom, Finnick pulled back. His eyes were red and dripping, lips in a deep frown, and nose scrunched. “I also failed before the games, I didn’t make sure you had a safety plan in place,” he argued.

“Finnick, you had Haymitch make sure I was picked up and taken here, too District Thirteen before the games even began, for my safety,” y/n argued. “Besides, sweetheart, that’s not your job. And I’m fine, please don’t burden yourself with that”.

Finnick shook his head. “I should’ve found a way to tell Mags the plan,” he sighed. “I should’ve found a way out of letting Snow sell my body,” he added. “Katniss had me in her crosshairs early on, I didn’t train enough after the last games”. “I promised you that I’d never let you down but I did”.

”Finnick Odair,” y/n gasped. “Look at me.” Once he finally met her gaze, she presented him with a small smile and a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you”. She shook her head inside the crook of his neck. “Seriously, none of those things are true or your fault”. “You have always had so many things working against you, Finnick. I’ve always been so proud of you, even without taking that into account. But you need to. I’m so proud of you baby, you did what you had to do and came back to me! I know it wasn’t easy by any means,” she hummed, “but you did it. I didn’t lose you. And that’s because of you. I’m so proud. I’m infinitely sorry you had to go through all of that, but I’m so proud of you coming home to me”.

Finnick whimpered appreciatively and pulled y/n closer to him. He’d missed this. He’d needed her. He never wanted to be apart from her ever again. His sweet wife was his everything. If he had her, he’d be able to heal from his pain of the latest games.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I'm here if or when you want to,” y/n offered quietly as she and Finnick sat at the table for a late lunch. They’d been eating when someone who had passed by mentioned something to their friend about the latest games. Y/n had noticed the way Finnick tensed immediately. She figured he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but wanted him to know he could whenever he was.

Y/n had been correct. Finnick hadn’t been ready yesterday afternoon to talk about his experiences in the arena this past time. But, tonight he seemingly was. It was brought up unexpectedly, but she was pleased he felt comfortable and stable enough to begin talking about it.

Finnick had expressed several thoughts about his experiences in the arena when a question came to his tired mind. “Did… Did you watch?” He asked quietly as y/n helped him undress due to his fatigued state. He watched as she hesitated in her movements for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted quietly. She lifted Finnick’s shirt over his head and tossed it towards the bin. “I… didn’t really want to,” she admitted, “I hated that you had to go, to do that all again”. She sighed and her fingers trailed down to help him step out of his jeans. “But I needed to know you were okay,” she explained slowly, “and I wanted to be able to understand what you went through.,. As much as possible that is, of course…” She helped hold him steady as he removed his pants. “That way if you didn’t want to talk about it or needed someone to understand slightly more than I would’ve without watching it…,” she rambled.

Finnick turned to face y/n, a tender smile on his lips. “You..,” he shook his head, “sugar, you’re far too sweet, you didn’t need to put yourself through that. But I appreciate you doing so and being so considerate of my potential needs to begin with”. He kissed her forehead delicately.

As Finnick began to try to help y/n undress for the night, she shook her head lovingly and stopped him. He was so exhausted. He didn’t need to help her tonight. “I’ve got it baby, you’re tired,” she spoke softly.

“I want to,” Finnick argued quietly, “if you’re okay with that! I don’t-”.

Y/n nodded quickly to silence Finnick’s worries. “I am, Finny. Just don’t want you overdoing it,” she mused, kissing his cheek.

Finnick hummed and resumed his efforts to help y/n out of her day clothes. “Is there… was there anything you saw that you want to talk about?” He asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment. But, upon meeting Finnick’s genuinely curious eyes, she sighed. “…l heard you crying my name,” she said, thinking back to the moment she’d watched her husband crumple to the floor of the arena in agony.

Finnick gave y/n a sympathetic smile, sensing her worry and needless guilt. “I just needed to hear your voice, to know you weren’t actually hurt,” he explained. “I know they were fake. But.. you were…? You’re alright?”

Y/n nodded and grabbed Finnick’s hands from her shoulder and squeezed them. “I was just upset I couldn’t be there to reassure you I was fine,” she informed him. “But, I wasn’t hurt. Do you want to tell me about what it was like, babe? Get it off your chest?"

Finnick looked away as he began to cry. “S-sorry,” he murmured quietly in apology. “I shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be crying. I.. I’m stronger than that… I’m sorry honey… I…”

“Finn,” y/n cooed. She let go of his hands and moved hers to cup his face and guide it towards her. When his eyes met hers, she gave him n a sweet smile. “Sweetheart, you never need to apologize to me. Ever. And, certainly not for crying…”.

Finnick nodded and melted into his wife’s embrace. “I… I thought it was real,” he began. “I… they copy… and it was your voice. I know it! It was so accurate! I…,” he shook, prompting y/n to rub his back soothingly. “I thought they’d hurt you.. that The Capitol.,. Snow…,” He trailed off.

“I think.. I thought about that a bunch too,” y/n murmured. “I think those sounds were made using by mixing up and splicing recordings from my games years ago, Finny.”

“I should’ve known that,” Finnick scolded himself. “I’m,” he sniffled as more tears escaped his eyes. He knew she might be watching the games and hadn’t wanted y/n to see him break down the way he had in that moment. He’d promised her he’d be strong and make it back to her. Yet all it took was some old audio clips and he’d shattered. He couldn’t deny the heartbreak he’d felt hearing her screams and cries. But he should’ve held it together. “I’m sorry.. I should’ve been stronger than that, I-“.

“No, Finnick. No,” y/n argued protectively. She leaned up and kissed his nose. “I don’t need you being strong all the time. I just need you. Vulnerabilities and all. Because that’s the real you, that’s all of you. And I love the whole real you.” She grinned as a bashful smile formed on her husband’s lips. “It’s all over now, Finny. No more having to pretend to be someone else for the cameras. You can just be yourself from now on. Just my wonderful Finnick Odair,” she cooed. As he leaned into her, she paid attention to his tears. She continued to sweetly dry them as she whispered loving words. After a few minutes, he’d stopped crying and was just resting in her embrace. “Fin, it's so good to have you home,” she whispered.

“I missed this,” Finnick confessed quietly.

“So did I.”

“You’re my happy place.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me,” y/n teased as Finnick stepped back so they could resume getting into bed for the night.

“I was away from you too long,” Finnick defended simply. “I gotta make up for the missed chances to flirt with my beautiful wife,” he winked, smirking as y/n looked away flustered.

“What can I do for you right now Finnick?” Y/n questioned as she faced him and saw his tears had returned.

“All I want is your lips against mine right now,” Finnick informed y/n. His cheeks turned brighter and brighter red until they matched the color of his teary eyes. “It sounds stupid, but I want to also physically feel your love-” he attempted to explain, feeling he needed to justify his request.

However, y/n didn’t need any reason to kiss her sweet husband. She quickly slid her hands into his hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Both y/n and Finnick cried quietly into the kiss as they moved impossibly closer to each other. It had been far too long since they felt this secure and untroubled over the other. When they pulled back, they instinctively rested their foreheads against each other’s, staring at one another. “I love you,” they whispered at the same time as they felt a small piece of their broken hearts begin to repair.

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[green-typewriterz]

finnick odair horse riding fic. put that man in a polo shirt put that man on the beach with a pony

The sand was never real but we pretended it was

Finnick Odair x gn!reader Summary: you and Finnick spend time together before the 75th games are announced, going horseriding and trying to stay away from the cameras Warnings: fluff. Pretty much pure fluff word count: 762

its like 3 words squared but here u go slay enjoy ur man on a horse

Finnick often reminisced to you about the white sand beaches in District Four and how he could swim every morning without pathetic prying eyes and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Having won your games at eighteen, you had had the chance to have most of a reasonable childhood over in District Seven, keeping the people around you safe and gardening until your hands were sore, but Finnick didn’t get that luxury.

So, one morning - after weeks of meticulous planning - you had managed to convince Finnick to go on a quiet walk with you around the capitol. You had secretly packed him a pair of navy blue board shorts and a matching blue costume for you. When you got near the destination, you put your hands over his eyes and led him toward the makeshift beach that you had begged a particularly rich District One victor to help you make.

“Y/N/N? What’s going on?” He asked with excitement in his voice. He gasped in shock when his feet sunk into the memorable feeling of sand and he removed your hands from his eyes to see a small beach next to the coast of the Capitol. He turned to you with a giddy smile. “You did all of this for me?” He asked, pulling you into a hug.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him as you spoke, “You said you missed the beach so I got my hands dirty.” He laughed and picked you up, spinning you in his arms and whispering ‘I love you’ into your ear as many times as he could. You both sat in the sand for a while, blissful, but not ignorant to the cameras that were inevitably watching and - though you couldn’t be quite as close as you had aimed - you both had the best time you had had for a long while.

It had reached midday when your friend arrived with the next present. “You mentioned you know how to horse ride.” You spoke and Finnick's eyes widened.

He walked toward the large brown horse and began to stroke its mane gently, smiling at how much effort you put into today. “Correction, knew,” he replied and turned to face with an amused look in his eye. “But I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” You laughed as he climbed up onto the horse.

He had surprisingly done pretty well, having not fallen once yet - you assumed it was the calm temperament of the horse. He rode for a long while and you joined him every now and then, him coaxing you up onto the steed so he could show you the reigns, but you both eventually agreed that it wasn’t really your thing.

You watched in awe as his blonde hair ruffled gently in the wind and how effortlessly perfect he looked. It was as if he was always meant to be there. Now in his board shorts, you couldn’t help but admire his perfect body, his skin sunkissed and slightly freckled. He never was a fan of the scars that hid there, but you always assured him they were beautiful and showed that he was strong. He was perfect up there. Well, until he fell off. You instantly ran over to check on him and found him pretty much face down on the floor. You shook him but he didn’t respond, until he rolled over onto his back, roaring with laughter. You hit his shoulder gently, not in annoyance but more in relief - you weren’t sure how to describe it.

He took you by your waist and pulled you on top of him, the both of you comfortable against the warm sand of the beach. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips repeatedly, his hands gently caressing your waist. Then, without warning, you rolled over so he knelt over you and tackled him to the ground, starting an impromptu wrestling match that quickly ended when you kissed his neck in an attempt to distract him (which worked perfectly).

You both watched the sunset on the beach, hands holding one another as the brilliant amber hues shone in the sky. Though you had to be reasonably discrete so Capitolites wouldn’t catch you, today had been the perfect blend of relaxation and fun, something you had a feeling you weren’t going to feel again for a long while. You sighed in contentment as the stars began to shine, knowing that - no matter what - you would fight to spend every day with Finnick, for the rest of your life.

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Prologue

Pairing/s: undecided. Possibly Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, Weapons, Swearing, Mentions of readers family, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes, mentions of Avoxes, bad descriptions of capitol technology, (if I missed anything please tell me)

Word count: 6.0k

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She stood in line, waiting for her turn to sign in. She was 18 this year. It was her last year until she could break free and resign death in the hunger games to her mind as simply a fearful memory. The line moved slowly, a few tearful 12 year olds calling for their mothers and fathers ahead of her. She remembered being that age, her first games reaping was a terrifying one as the girl next to her was picked. She could still remember her name “Lilac Hiddleswoft.” The 12 year old girl had died minutes into the 64th hunger games, the boy from 6 had killed her in the cornucopia. She was shaken from her thoughts as she was pushed forward, the peacekeeper at the front of the line pricking her finger and signing her in quickly.

She walked to stand with the other kids her age, admiring the sullen faces of those around her. She walked in line with everyone else, stopping a few spots from the middle of the pack of teens. The morning sun was blindingly hot, the desert breeze of district 2 blew dust into the lungs of its occupants. She looked to the stage, minimalistic with a few chairs and a microphone. She wondered what the escort would wear this year. A new skin color? More jewelry embedded into her skin? Anyway, she thought it seemed silly. Her mother had undergone many “enhancements” she always found them pretty but unnecessary. She liked her body well enough, a few improvements could be made but nothing too drastic.

The mayor and a few important people walked onto the stage, mainly victors with hollow eyes or so many surgeries they looked chronically surprised. She had always thought Enobaria was attractive in her own right….minus the teeth situation. She sat together with Brutus as always on the right side of the stage.

Finally the escort came to the stage, her hair shining rainbow in the heat like an oil slick. Y/N wondered how she had gotten it that color. She would admit the woman was pretty, her dark ebony skin always flawless with the embedded gems next to her completely white eyes. Her name was furisha la’fleur, a nepotism pick from the higher ups in district 2.

Furisha finally spoke after a beat “Hello district 2!” She exclaimed in her sickly sweet voice “happy hunger games!” District 2 was more or less the lapdogs of the capitol, their support ran deep. The crowd cheered and applauded, the sudden noise almost frightening. Furisha spoke again “First we have an exciting video from our capitol and beloved president!” She smiled almost too wide as the screen flickered, playing the same video it played every year. Y/N could quote it by this point, she focused on smoothing out any wrinkles in her dress. The white fabric soft against her fingers.

The video ended with a bang, more applause thundering throughout the town square. Furisha waited a moment for the applause to calm, clapping herself while walking to the spherical bowl to her right. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” She cheered into the microphone. She looked down at the bowl, doing her signature wrist flick “Ladies first!” She announced, reaching into the bowl and stirring her hand around. She soon pulled out a thick card stock, it was tinted grey with gold embossing as an extra flourish.

She read the name and the crowd fell silent, Y/N looked around for the chosen girl. Everyone around her stared, her brows furrowed. “It’s you” the girl beside her tapped her shoulder.

It couldn’t be her, this wasn’t the plan.

Her eyes widened in horror as she was quickly pulled out of line. Two peacekeepers herded her to the stage as she stared ahead blankly. Her ears rang as she walked up the steps next to furisha. Her only hope was a volunteer now, a braver soul. Her hand unconsciously went to hold her necklace, a gift from her step father on her first reaping day. Her stare was blank and hollow, as if she had nothing behind her eyes. Her hands shook and her vision filled with static. She felt like she could pass out and never wake up.

The crowd was silent still as furisha waited a moment for any volunteers. She looked around for her siblings, once she regained herself. a safe face to stare at as the impending doom set in. Nobody spoke up to take her place, furisha gave a simple nod and moved on. Her fate was set and she could do nothing about it. A boy was chosen next, age 12. He was skinny and tall for his age.

He started towards the stage fearfully before a boy shouted from the crowd. “I volunteer as tribute!” Her eyes turned to the voice, an academy boy jogged toward the stage. He was her age, she remembered him from her play group as a child. Finch Glenn was a tall boy, at least twice her size in width. His mop of curly dark hair flicked out of his eyes as he smiled and waved at the crowd. His bronze skin covered in freckles was similar to the rest of district 2, although he was obviously the pick of the litter.

Furisha told them to hold hands as they waved to the crowd and she did as she was told, unlike her companion however she did not smile or scream to the crowd. She simply waved, still in disbelief of her situation.

After a few moments of cheering the peacekeepers finally deemed it enough. They were led into the justice building and into separate rooms. Y/N’s family wasn’t poor but they certainly weren't rich either, she had never seen such fine furniture and decor.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers across the blue velvet couch, the buttons on the cushions were gold and caught her eye. She looked around the room, it was made of dark wood with marble floors. Paintings of different men hung on the wall, peacekeepers? The capitol elite? She had no idea who they were. She walked to a cabinet by the door, a plant sat atop it with luscious green vines hanging the edges. She gently examined one of the leaves, the vibrant green was beautiful.

A knock came from the door and it opened, 4 people rushing inside. All at once her mother and sister were hugging her, the former crying hysterically. They pleaded for her to stay alive, petting her hair and kissing her cheeks. It didn’t feel real, was this really happening?

Her step father stood in the corner of the room, it was clear that he had been crying. Their eyes met and he crumpled into himself a bit. Her mother captured her attention next. “You can be my brave girl can’t you baby?” She asked, talking to her like a small child. She couldn’t blame her mother, she knew the situation must be torture. Her mother had already seen the death of her husband and she couldn’t imagine the dread of losing a child.

Her brother hugged her next “you can win” he whispered simply to her, kissing her cheek for the first time in either of their lives. Her mother clung to her side, just wanting to hold her hand until the end of their time together.

Her stepfather walked to her, a sad smile on his face. “I can’t promise I’ll see you again so I need to tell you this now” he spoke softly “I need you to know how loved you are. You aren’t mine biologically but you’ll always be mine in here.” He pointed to his heart. “Your mother, your brother and sister and I will always be cheering you on. We love you more than anything.” *he said as tears came to his eyes.

He reached around her neck, unclasping the necklace he had once given her and putting it in his pocket. He then brought out a spherical pendant, it looked as if it was made from bronze. He stuck his nail under a small seam and it unfolded, a locket showing all 4 members of her family, her late father and herself. “We might not see you again” he repeated, closing the locket and holding it up to put it around her neck. “But I wanted you to be able to see us” he explained, fastening the clasp. “I had this made in case this ever happened and I’m so sorry you have to be the one to receive it sweetheart.” He said as tears fell from his cheeks.

Her sister let out a small whimper, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She was hanging back a bit from the rest of the family as Y/N was saying goodbye, no usual biting comments or banter. “you…. you better come home.” She choked out. she was trying to play off her emotions as usual, “who else am i supposed to fight over dumb stuff with?” She said with a sob. Y/N’s brother hugged her sister tight as she broke down.

Y/N’s family surrounded her, hugging and kissing her. She was determined to stay strong, she knew if she cried now it would only make things worse.

After a few minutes a few peacekeepers arrived at the door, it was time to say goodbye one final time. She kissed her mother’s cheek and hugged her siblings tight. She gave her step father a kiss on the cheek as well and as suddenly as they arrived they were gone.

She broke down seconds after the door closed, sobbing into the cushions of that blue velvet couch. She wanted her mother to come back, she wanted her sister to tell her to “man up” like usual. She sobbed for as long as tears could fall from her eyes and longer.

She had no idea how long she’d been in that room. 15 minutes? An hour? It didn’t matter. She was soon taken out of the room and down a long hallway. Finch joined her quickly and walked with confidence. His goodbye was not one of tears but of encouragement and words like “see you soon.” They set foot outside and were led to a train that would take them to the capitol. It was sleek and silver, just a long tube without any inclination that there were separate cars.

People screamed and cameras flushed as they walked, her senses overwhelmed. Finch waved and preened while she just walked quietly and quickly to the entrance. She stepped on and was in awe, it was beautiful. Crystal chandeliers glittered and food was spread over the redwood table in the center of the car.

She walked in further, Furisha sat in one of the chairs chatting with Brutus and Enobaria. They stood up at the entrance of the tributes, smiles on their faces. “Congratulations!” Furisha said in her usual almost condescending manner, Enobaria nodded at her with pity and Brutus simply ignored her in favor of Finch.

She was ushered to sit down, food being placed in front of her. “Eat, please” Furisha motioned. “You’ll need your strength for the games” she smiled. Finch dug in immediately and she grabbed a fork. This food was frivolously and immaculately decorated but delicious nonetheless. She ate her fill of the pasta in front of her, the sauce was purple and the noodles were green. It tasted of chicken and some sort of seasoning she couldn’t quite describe. It was cheesy and rich with a few leaves of spinach sprinkled throughout.

She sat back when she had finished, the table was filled with chatter. She listened a bit but soon grew tired of the unimportant conversation about the wig Furisha wanted to wear to the tributes parade. “could I be excused to go to bed please?” She interjected at a moment of silence. Furisha smiled and motioned for an avox to lead her to her room. “Of course you can, my darling” she replied, “but meet here in the dining room so you can strategize in the morning alright? We have a schedule to keep.” She requested. Y/N nodded quickly, standing and looking at the awaiting avox.

He led her to a large room, so large in fact that she wondered if it took up a whole car. The bed was covered in pillows and blankets, a canopy of thin silk like material covering it. The avox opened the closet, setting a black fluffy towel on the dresser in front of her. She presumed this meant he was asking if she wanted to shower. “Yes please” she answered softly, earning a nod from the man. He led her to the bathroom, it was made of sleek pink marble with bronze metal used for any trimmings. She took the towel in her arms and the man bowed at the door, closing it and leaving her alone once more. She took her shoes off, the heels clicking together as she picked them up off the floor and set them on the shelf by the door.

Next she unzipped her dress, stepping out of it and hanging it up neatly before stripping the rest of her underthings as well. She looked at the shower before her curiously, it was operated by a panel of buttons instead of a dial. She pressed a button, selecting hot water and a mode that reminded her of the monsoon rains back home. Stepping in she instantly relaxed as she felt the boiling water, closing her eyes she stood under the spray and took a moment to breathe. The water burned her skin in a comforting way, she smiled to herself as she enjoyed the small luxury.

She took her time, washing her hair with the expensive shampoos and conditioners and choosing the scent of peaches to scrub her body. After she was satisfied she stepped out, wrapping herself in the warm embrace of the towel she was given. She looked in the mirror pondering momentarily that it had no fog before it lit up with options.

“Electric hair dryer?” She said aloud to herself, touching the option. Immediately a small current of electricity flowed through her arm, drying her hair into a silky smooth texture. She smiled as she marveled at the technology, touching another option that popped out a small mouth guard that would supposedly brush her teeth.

A moment later she deemed she had truly enjoyed what used to be a simple bathing experience, walking out to the room she was provided in her towel. She saw a new outfit laying on the covers of the bed, black Satin pajamas, new underwear and thick socks. She ran her fingers over the fabric for a moment before putting the outfit on, it was incredibly comfortable.

She climbed into the impossibly soft bed, swaddled in warmth. She was physically the most comfortable she had ever been, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from racing around her head like jabberjays fighting over a worm. She picked up the remote from the nightstand, dimming the lights. she also pressed a button that had a cricket on it out of curiosity, the sound immediately playing quietly throughout her room along with wind and the sounds of swaying foliage.

Somehow that night she managed to sleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day lulled her to unconsciousness.

The next morning she awoke early, sliding out of the bed and tidying it up out of habit. She was exhausted but sleep avoided her grasp for any longer, the stress making it impossible. After a few moments of trying to perfect the messy covers she padded over to the large closet. The small room was full of elegant and colorful clothes, she ran her hand across one of the racks and admired the different styles.

She chose a comfortable forest green sweater with gold buttons and wide leg black pants, she slid on comfortable ballet shoes before deciding she looked well enough to go to breakfast. She grabbed the mouth guard-like device and let it brush her teeth before fluffing her hair in the mirror. The door to her room slid open automatically as she stepped up to it.

She walked down the long hallway to the dining room car, her hands wringing themselves together anxiously. Brutus sat in the car alone, sipping a steaming mug. “Oh it’s you” he muttered as he noticed her presence “I didn’t expect you to be up this early” he remarked as She stood awkwardly in the doorway “I can come back later if you want” she offered, uneasy at the thought of disturbing him. He had always made her a bit nervous, his gaze was sharp and unsettling.

He shook his head “No it’s ok, come sit” he motioned to the soft plush chairs around him “coffee?” He asked, setting his cup down. She shook her head, Her mother had let her have coffee a few times during celebrations but she had never liked the taste, it was definitely acquired. “It’s not my thing” she said as she walked across the car, sitting a few seats away from him. “I’ve never been able to get over how bitter it is.” she recalled, her nose scrunching a bit at the memory.

He gave a small chuckle, picking up a tablet and pressing a few buttons. “Do you like chocolate?” He asked as he presumably ordered a drink for her on the device. She nodded her head, she had had it a few times but it wasn’t a staple in her home. “You’ll like this then” he concluded as he set the device down again, looking at her once more.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “You’re pretty” he observed “you look like you might be quick too” he said while studying her. “Can you run fast?” She was a bit taken aback by the question but quickly replied “I-I think I’m average” she stuttered out. He narrowed his eyes at the reply “what weapons have you trained with?” He pried, trying to get a good picture of her strengths “I'm not an academy student” she said, almost embarrassed. she chewed her lip nervously and continued “I have no experience with anything besides helping my mama chop vegetables for dinner”

his head tilted a bit at that point “So long range is better for you” he concluded. “Spears or pitchforks maybe” he sipped his coffee again, sitting back in his chair. “You won’t have to get close to kill, no hand to hand combat.” She didn’t know much about fighting, a few squabbles with her siblings and friends sure but she wasn’t a born killer. The thought of fighting other people scared her a bit, murder was a thing that had never occurred to her to commit.

Soon an avox appeared with a mug of her, the creamy hazelnut colored liquid swirled with cream. It smelled wonderful and she quickly took a sip. It was warm and rich, with a smooth cocoa flavor and a hint of cinnamon that reminded her of home. “Oh my god” she said, a delight present on her face as she sipped. At that exact moment the door slip open and Enobaria sauntered in “you gave her hot chocolate didn’t you?” She smiled as she sat next to her colleague. He nodded with a faint grin and she seemed pleased to watch the young girl enjoy herself.

“How are you feeling today? Are you nervous?” Enobaria asked, she had a commanding presence about her, reminding Y/N of an older sister or that aunt that scares you a bit. Y/N nodded slowly “I’m…..scared” she said softly and Enobaria nodded understandably. “It’ll be a lot I won’t lie-“ she stated, her own coffee being brought to her by a female avox “but as your mentor I’ll be right here with you. I’ll teach you to dismember with the best of them” She said as she smiled, a glint of mischief in her eye.

The morning went by quickly after the interaction with Finch waking up and breakfast being served. They ate their fill in pastries, assorted meats, cheeses and especially hot chocolate. Brutus and Enobaria began their mentorship discussions with their tributes after their meal. They closely studied both their strengths and weaknesses determining what they should and should not do in specific scenarios. Furisha fluttered about the train at the same time, throwing in bits of opinions and comments about decor and manners. Y/N was almost overwhelmed by the time lunch was served, thoughts swirling around her head of strategies and sponsorships. Unfortunately the reward of a break would not be provided.

The train sped into the Capitol, the tall buildings dwarfing the train she had thought was gigantic just moments prior. She was glued to the window taking in the sights around her, the glistening statues and sleek structures she had read about in book. The train soon turned into the station, crowds of people gathered at the platform. Some smiled at her with artificial golden or black teeth while some shouted and screamed.

All she could do was stare at the crowd until a voice interrupted her thoughts. “They’d like you better if you smiled and waved, gotta make a good impression.” She whipped her head around only to see Finch, the broad boy walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, waving and smiling. “I don’t want to be enemies ok?” He told her “We might die in there and it’s better to have a friend” he said looking at her with a soft gaze. He had never been mean, he just knew what he wanted and would do anything to get to his goal even as a child, they didn’t know each other very well anymore but she could tell he was still a kind young man.

“Ok…friends” she agreed quietly, plastering a fake smile on her face to wave to the crowd. She didn’t know him well enough to consider him a friend or anything close but she couldn’t afford to turn him down. There could be a time that the choice between her life and death came to his loyalties to her. She had no idea that playing the game started so much sooner before she went into the arena when she was reaped, a shame she had to learn.

After lunch the two disembarked from the train, the crowds throwing smiles and flowers their way. They were driven to a large building soon after and surrounded by their own separate groups of people. Y/N knew these were the famed stylists, they were notorious for their taste and trend setting. They took her to a cubicle and stripped her clothes, starting their work instantaneously. She was doused in warm water and scrubbed with scratchy fabric and a grainy substance that made her skin feel raw.

“Time for the best part!” One of the so far anonymous stylists said to another. He pulled out what looked like a glob of honey and some paper strips. The hot gooey substance was spread on her legs, it felt strange but kind of good, the warmth sinking into her cold skin. Out of nowhere another stylist placed a sheet of the paper on the goo and ripped it off. She let out a shocked pained noise and the male stylist rolled his eyes. “Lay back and let us wax you ok? Aerith doesn’t like hair on her tributes” he snarked

She decided she hated this man, she gave him a dirty look as he continued to rip the hair from her entire lower half, then including arms and eyebrows. She wondered if Finch was being given the same treatment, probably not. Men were allowed to be hairy or hairless, a fact she despised at the current moment.

She was slathered in thick lotion, her body feeling a bit sticky and her hair was washed once again. They remarked amongst themselves that coming from a district like 2 she shouldn’t have as many split ends as she did. She rolled her eyes at the chatter as her hair was trimmed and dried, they curled it just a bit and then turned their attention to her face. They pinched, rubbed and poked at her; her pores slathered in a mask to make them unnoticeable.

She furrowed her eyebrows in discomfort as they brushed her eyelashes and washed her face. It had been hours when finally at long last the torture was over, she was put in a thin cotton gown and corralled to a darkened room with a steel table. What more could this stylist “Aerith” do to her? She wondered, cringing at the thought of any more preening from the anonymous stylists.

She layed on the table and waited, closing her eyes and listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights above.

After a while she was starting to doze off, the lack of sleep and quiet of the room calming. The door was suddenly flung open, a small woman entering. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her eyes turning to meet the woman’s gaze. “Oh yes you are a fine piece” the woman said as she walked closer and combed her wrinkled hands through Y/Ns hair.

“Thank you?” Y/N spoke, unsure of what “piece” meant, and still a bit disoriented from the entrance. The woman looked over her face, muttering about her nose and lips before their eyes met. “I am Aerith” the old woman stated, her hand falling to her side. The woman was small in stature, her skin an almost translucent white. She had bright orange hair and lavender bangs, the short curls flipping up at the nape of her neck. Her long fingernails tickled Y/Ns skin as she let them follow the lines of her neck, her unsettling yellow eyes lighting up with a smile.

“I am here to make sure you make the best impression possible and can get as many sponsors as it takes to win these games.” She smiled almost eerily “you’ll make a beautiful impression my pet, if everyone in panem doesn’t want to kill you, be you or sleep with you by the end of this week I haven’t done my job.”

Y/N gave her a bewildered look, this old woman wanted people to think that?

She didn’t have the time to ponder long as Aerith took her hand with a grin “Let's start” she stated.

She was fitted into many outfits, The dresses, suits, rompers and leotards tight on her body to show off what Aerith called “assets.” She was exhausted by the conclusion of the never ending fashion show. Her skin chafed from the sequins and gems on the garments. Luckily her outfits were finally chosen and she could be taken to her temporary home to rest. She spotted Finch as she was escorted to the car, he looked good. His hair was a bit shorter, his face clean shaven and his eyebrows plucked to perfection.

“They got to you too huh?” She asked jokingly to which he laughed “It was horrible” he remarked “I thought my skin was gonna fall off when they scrubbed me with that sugary stuff” he laughed. She grimaced “that’s all? They tore all the hair off my body except on my head!” She exclaimed and he recoiled. “Uh god that sounds awful!”

The ride back was mostly silent, Furisha meeting them as they pulled up to what they where told was the “tribute quarters.”

“You two look wonderful!” She chirped, her stilettos clicking as she motioned for them to follow. A crowd was once again cheering as they walked into the building, held back by peacekeepers. She plastered on her biggest fake smile and blew kisses to the people, walking quickly into the building. Did these people ever sleep? Would it be like this every time she left from now on until she entered the arena?

Finch was right behind her, not stalling like he had before. Y/N could tell he must be a bit tired of the fanfare, she looked back as he waved. The fatigue was evident on his face to her, to the citizens howling in the crowd however? They screamed louder and she could tell they didn’t pay any mind. Furisha led them to the elevator and pushed the button for 2. “You two are so lucky to be here this year, we just got brand new heated floors!” She cheered excitedly.

Y/N couldn’t wait to eat and get to bed, this woman was beyond exhausting. Y/N knew she meant well but the constant cheery behavior was a lot to put up with. The elevator soon stopped and revealed an oddly decorated room. The chairs looked like they were made of children’s building blocks and the couch had a strange plush roof on it.

Furisha told them they could go to their rooms or explore until dinner, their stylists would be joining them. Y/N almost groaned when she heard the statement. Aerith was not exactly the most warm and cuddly person. She wished she could have someone to talk to, she missed whispering jokes to her brother at the dinner table and the way her sister would pick out her clothes because she had “bad tastes”

She was shown to her new room by an avox, a dinner outfit already in her arms. It was a simple black dress, long enough to reach her knees with tulle sleeves. She asked politely for the mute woman to place the dress on the chair by the vanity in the room. The woman nodded, draping the dress over the chair and bowing before leaving the room.

She flopped onto the plush bed face first, sighing and contemplating what to do until dinner. She looked around the room she occupied. The walls were a red oxide color, a common color in her district. The bedspread and sheets were black and all of the metal in the room was gold. She looked to the window in the room, watching the people walk around outside. She wondered if she could be seen but quickly realized she definitely could not. She spotted a remote on the nightstand, a small smile coming to her face. She plucked it off the table and looked at the buttons like the night before. She pressed one and the window suddenly changed to a cityscape, another and she saw the forest. She grinned wider as she fiddled with the small electronic, nearly dropping it as the scene changed to a desert plane. Her heart jumped as she heard the familiar sounds of soft winds and animals skittering.

A knock sounded on her door a moment later. “Come in!” She said loudly, sitting up on the bed and pressing the button to turn the window back to normal. She willed the tears away from her eyes and pushed the homesickness down in her stomach. The Cotton gown she wore bunched up around her knees as she sat and watched the door open.

Finch poked his head in and waved “Hey” he said simply. She offered a small smile “Hi” she said in return.“Wanna come explore the bookshelves before dinner?” He asked, opening the door wider, revealing his dress shirt and black slacks. She nodded and stood, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “gimme a second to change and I’ll meet you by the freaky couch” she affirmed as she walked to pick up the dress that lay in waiting. He smiled wider and gave her a thumbs up, closing the door again.

She quickly changed into the black dress, the sleeves were a bit itchy but otherwise it was quite comfortable. She put a black headband in her hair that had been sitting on the vanity, assuming it went with the dress. Looking down at her feet she wiggled her toes, searching through one of the drawers and finding a pair of black ankle socks. She took the cotton gown she had been wearing and draped it on the bed. With how much she was attended to she was sure it would probably be gone by the time she returned.

The door slid open upon her approach and she walked into the living room area, the lights outside the window sparkling like stars. She spotted Finch lounging on the strange couch, giggling to herself. “You look like a villain in a book” she remarked with a small smile “but I think that couch would do that to anyone” she chuckled.

He laughed loudly, standing to meet her. “Better not say that to Brutus” he whispered teasingly and she smiled again. “Because it’s kinda true” He smiled as she laughed. He led her to a few large bookshelves that were filled to the brim. Cloth bound and leather books lined the shelves with different titles shown on the spines.

She traced her fingers across the spines, looking up at the large shelves. She had never seen so many fine books, district 2 had books yes but many were tattered or dirty. Finch looked to where her gaze had settled, speaking quietly “they’re pretty huh?” He observed. She stood on her toes, reaching for a book she recognized. Her fingers grazed the leather of the green spine and she hopped to reach it. Suddenly she was up in the air, face to face with the book. She let out a startled noise, looking down and seeing Finch. He smiled as he held her on his bicep and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” She asked, astonished at his strength. She hadn’t had someone pick her up so easily in a while. “You looked like you needed a hand” he stated simply, motioning at the book. She grabbed the book quickly, looking back down at his smiling face. He set her down as gently as he scooped her up, taking care to make sure she was steady on her feet.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers barely brushing the book she held. She showed him the title “ Edible plants and where to find them.” It read in gold embossed cursive writing, little flowers and leafy greens surrounding it. “My siblings and I studied this in school” she started “we all had the same teacher and she taught us where to find a few things” she said, a soft smile on her features from the memory.

“Read it to me?” He requested, nodding his head to the strange shaped couch. She looked over and thought for a moment, was this him trying to be her friend? Trying to be an ally? It didn’t matter, she needed a small comfort in this place. She walked to the couch and sat, opening the book and looking at the pictures.

The two read for a few moments, discussing their favorite spices, fruits and vegetables from home. They discovered how much they had in common, they both loved summer fruits and how the plum trees would bloom in spring.

Soon enough Furisha called them for dinner, they were served a chicken dish on a bed of rice. It was smothered in a spicy red sauce and had just the right amount of herbs. The sides where just as immaculate, a mix of salads and sautéed vegetables. Furisha explained the next day’s schedule over dinner, the tribute parade and their first opportunity for sponsorship. Y/N felt nervousness bubble up in her chest. The thought of so many people watching her was exciting and terrifying simultaneously.

Dessert was served while the conversation progressed, a chocolate cake with fruit and vanilla ice cream. Y/N felt goosebumps when the sweetness hit her taste buds. Finch groaned in delight at the flavor and they looked at eachother with small smiles. Furisha clapped rapidly “Oh you two are so cute! I can already see how great the alliance will be in the arena!” She chirped. The comment made the two teens frown, they silently ate their sweet treat.

The stylists talked with furisha for a while after that, talking about what looks the two would wear the next day. They planned their hair and makeup, their entrances and everything in between.

The tributes were sent to bed early that night, told they “had a big day tomorrow” as they were handed off to avoxes and sent to their rooms after dinner. Y/N was glad to be allowed a bit of silence, she took the book to her room stealthy. A set of silk pajamas was laid out for her, thick socks on the side.

She changed out of her dinner dress and got into bed, setting the window screen to the desert scene. She snuggled into the soft bed and cracked open the book, soon falling into sleep with the pages open on her lap.

*******************************************************

[hlstead]

hii "I'm sorry for not believing you." + fluff + finnick pls 🙏

sorry - finnick odair x reader

warnings: no use of YN

all of my works are poc friendly

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The damp scent of the sea hung in the air as Finnick and I strolled along the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves providing a soothing soundtrack to our evening. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the sand beneath our feet.

Finnick's laughter, carefree and infectious, echoed against the distant calls of seabirds. His eyes, a shade of blue that mirrored the ocean, twinkled with a playful light as he teased me about the seashells scattered along the shore.

As we found a quiet spot to sit, the sand cool beneath us, I couldn't help but think about the journey that brought us here. The Hunger Games, a brutal reality we both faced, had woven our lives together in unexpected ways. Yet, in Finnick's presence, the weight of the Games felt momentarily lifted.

I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the horizon. "Finnick, I need to tell you something," I began, the words catching in my throat.

His expression shifted, concern replacing the playful glint in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm sorry for not believing you," I admitted, the weight of my confession lingering in the salty breeze. "In the arena, when you warned me about the dangers, I doubted you. I didn't understand the depth of the Games and the sacrifices you made."

Finnick's eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"You don't need to apologize," he said, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of my hand. "The Games have a way of distorting reality. I knew you'd understand eventually."

A sense of gratitude washed over me, knowing that Finnick, despite the scars etched into his soul by the arena, found solace in our shared understanding. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the beach, but in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

"I'm grateful to have you by my side," I confessed, my gaze meeting Finnick's. "You've shown me the strength in vulnerability, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Finnick's smile, a mixture of warmth and genuine affection, lit up the twilight. "We've got each other," he said, his voice carrying a promise that echoed beyond the shores.

[toomanyfandomsimfanvergent]

Finnick Odair x Reader!Gale’s Sister plzzz

Finnick Odair x Hawthorne!Reader

Summary: Being stuck in District 13 has been nothing but a living hell. Your boyfriend makes it more bearable for you. Now, your brother on the other hand...

Warnings/Tags: Finnick Odair x Reader Established relationship (romantic), Gale Hawthorne x Reader (Platonic),

A/N: Requests are open! PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed this story and want to see more like it!

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Gale had been miserable every second you spent with your boyfriend, Finnick. The PDA and the looks you gave each other made him crazy.

His older sister should not date so soon after all of that trauma. Gale told himself that he just didn't want his sister to date any guy. But, deep down he knew it was most likely due to the fact that he was still on love with Katniss.

You walked down the hall, hands clasped with Finnick's. The two of you were separate very little. Not that there was anywhere to go if you did separate.

The base was extremely cramped. So many people had escaped the grasp of the Capitol. So many refugees.

"Your brother isn't going to kill me?" Finnick asked. He was only half joking. He knew Gale was good with a bow, and well, the looks Gale gave Finnick made Finnick's heart almost stop.

"No, or at least I asked him not to." Finnick gave you a gentle shove. He knew you were most likely joking.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," you say and take a seat at your usual table with a few of the other people from your district and make shift friend group.

"Yn," Gale says getting your attention, "Katniss and I were cleared to go outside for hunting. Maybe you would like to join us tomorrow?" Gale asked. He couldn't bear to be out there either her alone anymore. It was quite obvious she would never love him back. She loved Peeta.

"Someone has to show you how it's done," you say attempting to get a little crack of laughter out of Gale's stone cold soul.

He was like a snowman. Ice cold.

Gale used to have life in him. But once he lost Katniss you lost Gale. He wasn't the same without his best friend.

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Finnick's head was buried in I'm the crook of your neck. It was finally lights out and he couldn't wait to cuddle up next to you for the night.

Even though the whole situation really did suck, at least he had you. Even if your brother wanted him dead.

"Goodnight my love," you whisper as Finnick begins to doze off for the night.

His breathes are soft as he whispers, "I love you to sweetheart."

His head is reburied in the crook of your neck, and you feel his soft breaths tickle your neck. He looked so peaceful like this

Half asleep without a care in the world. His soft locks of hair framed his face with utter perfection. He looked beautiful all the time, but words couldn't describe how he looked when he was sleeping.

He looked peaceful.

[juneberrie]

— 🎬 an interesting shoot

summary: during an interview, finnick reveals something he probably shouldn't have

pairing: movie star!finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings/tags: no hunger games au, movie star au

lizzie’s note — first finnick fic lets gooooo

word count: 0.2k

finnick flashes a winning smile to the camera and crosses his ankle over his leg. "yeah, caesar. mockery is gonna be out in january of this next coming year." he glances at his costar, yn ln, who was sitting next to him, and hid the wide, wide smile that tried creeping onto his face.

"and, you two play the leads in mockery, am i correct?"

"yes, caesar. i play emma and finnick plays the charming kaden," yn smiles. "we're very excited for the world to see what we've been working on for months."

"ooh. from what we've seen from trailers and teasers, you two play love interests."

"mhm. emma and kaden are star-crossed lovers from two different sides of the town," finnick says. he glances at yn again. "it was definitely an... interesting shoot."

yn looks away, laughing. "it definitely was," she grins, looking back at finnick. she folds her hand in her lap. the light catches on a diamond ring resting on her ring finger.

"speaking of lovers," caesar gasps, taking her hand and holding it up for all to see. "what is this? the lovely yn with an even lovelier engagement ring?"

yn laughs and replies, "yeah. this really, really charming guy gave it to me while we were filming."

caesar questions yn about her ring and her "mysterious" lover, seemingly oblivious to finnick sitting there with a lovestruck smile, admiring his soon-to-be wife.

[severeatea]

I FEEL THE SAME IM OBSESSIVELY CHECKING THE FINNICK TAG AND WHY IS IT SO SLOW ? LAST WEEK THERE WERE SO MANY UPDATES 😭

NO LITERALLY I CHECK IT DAILY AND THERES ONLY BEEN ONE POST THIS WEEK. IM THIS CLOSE TO WATCHING “Finnick odair x yn pov” ON TIKTOK 😓😓.

[andvys]

AHABALQHAO I JUST READ THE THING ON THE HASHTAG AND OMG THE AMT OF SPONSORS THEY'D GET WHILE THEY FLIRT IN THE ARENA 💀 I CAN IMAGINE THE CAPITOL MAKING EDITS OR LIKE SEARCHING "finnick odair x (victor name / yn) " #(shipname) 😍

PLSSSS LITERALLY THO 💀💀AWWWW WAIT THE EDITS THO 🥺🥺that’s kinda cute 😪 some lonely girl at the capitol would write a wattpad story about them 😁💖

[ilguna]

Piano Sessions: "White Leather" by Wolf Alice + Finnick Odair x reader, their relationship had just started when Quarter Quell happened and both sent to arena, when the rebels pull victors out she gets left behind but her tracker was taken out and the gamemakers can't find her in arena. so everyone assumes she's dead but she escapes. while she's on the run she thinks about the life she wants with Finnick (maybe she sees the propo he does and he says something about her death). as "star squad" makes their way through the capitol they are reunited.

☼ white leather (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, reader has an injury.

wc; 5.7k

prompt; Piano Sessions: songfic, white leather by wolf alice. not noticable.

--

The seasons are changing, the warmth is fleeting, and the loneliness is burrowing in your heart. While you were being roasted alive a few weeks ago due to the unrelenting heat, mother nature has since decided to be kind rather than cruel. With summer ending, it allows her to relax, iron fist loosening.

It’s perfect timing, too.

If you had to endure it for any longer, you think you would’ve stopped traveling, ultimately setting you back. It was different when you were in the arena, because you weren’t actively moving for the entire day, just in increments. Out here you have no choice, especially if you want to make it back.

The Capitol can’t be that much further. After walking in the trees of Panem for hours at a time for weeks, it has got to be around here somewhere. You know for certain that you’re heading in the right direction because you stumbled into District Nine by accident. 

You didn’t even realize you had, even though you crossed through a fence to get inside. In your defense, there’s a lot of sectioned off areas inside of the wilderness, with no apparent reason why. What should’ve given you a clue was the burnt wheat field, stretching as far as your eyes could see.

In the distance, you could make out buildings, something that also wasn’t too unusual, considering that when the districts were formed after the Dark Days, a lot of structures were abandoned. You’ve been hopping between them, actually. It’s dangerous, they’re falling apart, and there’s critters absolutely everywhere, but you don’t have much of an option. 

You’ve tried sleeping under the stars, it’s not at all comfortable. You get increasingly paranoid as the hours drag on, afraid of the wild animals coming across you. You’d be able to defend yourself, with the knife that you have from the Quarter Quell arena. In the case of a pack, you’d be screwed.

They’d tear you apart, and then you’d have to add on their damage to injuries you already have. The last thing you need right now is another infected wound. The one on your forearm is bad enough. It’s your own fault, you dug out the tracker prematurely, assuming that you’d be rescued out of the arena, because that was the plan. 

When Katniss short circuited the dome using the lightning, she unintentionally messed up the plan, putting the rebels on a time crunch. They were able to get her, Finnick and Beetee out of the arena, you believe. Which left you, Johanna and Peeta behind. And Enobaria, but she doesn’t really count.

You ran across your allies, tried to tell them that if they didn’t want to fall into Capitol hands, then they had to escape that minute. Johanna, who usually trusts your judgement, was resistant to the idea of escaping the dome. She didn’t like the idea of having to survive outside of it, not knowing where to go. She wanted to play it safe, and if that meant enduring whatever the Capitol had in store, then that’s what had to be done. 

You would’ve argued with her, possibly even convinced her, if the hovercraft hadn’t appeared above the three of you. They knew exactly where they were because of the trackers they still had. With you being set on not being captured, you ran, leaving them behind, while you got out of the dome.

They should’ve caught you. It was an open field for at least a mile, they easily could’ve seen you, shot you and scooped you up. You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life. Johanna and Peeta must’ve put up a fight, if it took them that long to grab them out.

You didn’t hear news for a long time, not until that farmer caught up with you in that wheat field. She was out of breath, face a bright red from running for so long, sweat running down from her temples. You paused, watching in slight amusement as she tried to catch her breath, clearly wanting a conversation.

“You… what are you… doing out here?” She gasped, a hand on her chest. “If the Peacekeepers catch you…”

At the mention of Peacekeepers, you were no longer smiling. “Where am I?”

Her face twisted. “Well, District Nine, of course.”

The burnt field clicked then, and you turned to look at it with new eyes. It also explained why the fence you climbed over was harder than the last few. Which then got your mind working, wondering if you’d been in District Nine the week before, because it was heavily barbed.

“My name is (Y/n).” You said, head shaking. “I don’t live here, I’m a victor from District Four.”

She squinted at you, unbelieving. She eyed your body, the clothes you were wearing, which is nothing but an undershirt, a pair of shorts and water boots. Not the typical clothing for a farmer out in the fields, you guessed. You came to the right conclusion, because her mouth opened.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” She told you. “How did you get out of the arena?”

“It fell apart. I simply climbed out.” 

She made a noise, as if the answer was too easy. “Where are you heading? District Four?”

“No, the Capitol. How far away am I?”

“Close, but you’re going in the wrong direction. You need to get to District Two, they cracked the Nut.” She pointed over your shoulder. “If you get to the rebel base, they’ll help you there.”

You nodded slowly. “They still have Peacekeepers here?”

“We’re too close, that’s why they haven’t retreated. They’ve up and abandoned the further districts. They wiped out District Twelve completely.”

You tilted your head. “Everyone’s dead?”

“They bombed it, seen it in the propos with Katniss Everdeen. Some of her people made it out, they’re in District Thirteen now. Not much left of ‘em.”

“Right.” You murmured. “Thank you for the help.”

“Wait, don’t you want me to look at that for you?” She motioned to where you’d cut out the tracker. “It looks nasty.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Well, good luck.” She said, “You better hurry and get out of here.”

“I will.”

She nodded, watching as you turned away, heading for District Two. From what you’ve gathered, you’re confident enough to say that the Quarter Quell arena was placed in the space between Districts Eight, Nine and Two. When you picture the map of Panem in your mind, it’s the area that makes the most sense.

A part of you wishes that you’d taken up her offer on cleaning out the cut. You have some herbal knowledge, which is what’s keeping it from killing you, but that has nothing on real medicine. This could’ve been healed days ago, and it likely wouldn’t have left a scar.

There’s also so many questions that come to mind since talking to her. Parts of the conversation that didn’t make sense to you. The biggest one being her telling you that you should be dead. Why? At the very least, the Capitol should know that you made it out alive. Especially if they did a sweep of the arena and didn’t come out with your body.

Unless they figured that you escaped and you’ve died out here somewhere, starving and alone. Which is the dumbest conclusion that they could possibly come to. With your track history, the bare minimum that you’ve lived off of your entire life, including your Games, they should know you’re a parasite that you can’t get rid of so easily.

If there’s one good thing that’s come out of fighting in the Hunger Games, it’s that you know how to survive. It would’ve been harder to do if you were rusty, but your time in the arena was a refresher, setting you up to live out here, which is not nearly as difficult. You don’t actively have other tributes hunting you down every waking second. 

If the Capitol really thinks that you’ve died, they have a surprise coming.

Your feet stutter a step when you realize what that means. It’s not just the Capitol, District Nine believes it too. There’s a good chance that they’re advertising it to the rest of the districts, then. You wouldn’t put it past them, they rub factors in your faces all the time, like District Thirteen. They led you to think that it’d been destroyed decades ago, when in reality, they came to an agreement that allowed Thirteen to slip out without the others noticing.

Oh, you hope that Finnick isn’t believing the same thing that girl did. You really hope that he wouldn’t take their word for it. But why wouldn’t he? District Thirteen didn’t have enough resources to rescue you all, and the Capitol was right there. Who’s to say that you didn’t die before they could get you out? Or that they didn’t kill you in captivity? Or that they’re secretly hiding you.

They could say anything they wanted about you, and he’d have no choice but to believe it because there’s no evidence proving otherwise.

You’ve been thinking about Finnick a lot lately out here while you walk, mostly your future. It was discussed briefly before the Quarter Quell, because the two of you had come to the agreement of volunteering for the Games. The conversation didn’t get very far after you started talking about the hypothetical rebellion if the arena did work out.

If you had it your way, you think you would’ve talked to him about what he wants to do after the rebellion, because you have so many ideas. Primarily, you’ll be able to travel, you won’t be held down by District Four. You and Finnick could spend months bouncing between districts, and come back home when you get tired of it.

For the first time in your lives, you’ll have freedom. You’ll be able to do anything you want with little to no limit. There will be no more Hunger Games, no more months of preparation with teenagers that have no choice. There won’t be any interruptions, something that held the two of you back for so long.

And you’re not talking about the Games being a burden, you mean the relationship you’ve been denying. You and Finnick have had unavoidable chemistry for years, but between district life and the Capitol, there was no room to explore until recently. And even that seems to have been a mistake, something that should’ve waited.

Except, neither of you could suppress the urges any longer. You were already sharing longing looks and gentle touches, there was no point in withholding the pleasures when you were already dipping into it. That’s why you made it official in April, four months after the announcement, three months before the reaping. 

There had been countless nights where you stayed up, dreaming of the day where you’d be able to be yourselves. Where the stars would align perfectly to allow you to become more than just friends. When it finally happened, you almost didn’t believe the words coming out of Finnick’s mouth.

It’s been difficult to take it slow with him, because you feel like you’ve been dating him this entire time, under the table. You might not have been physical with him, but the emotional aspect was there. In your mind, he was already yours. And he admitted to you that he felt the same, that you belonged to him years ago.

You remember shivering when he told you that, because you had a feeling that it was true. These were words that you thought you’d have to wait to hear come out of his mouth. He was eager to tell you these truths, like a weight being lifted off of his chest. Like he’d been planning the exact moment they’d slip out of his lips in a whisper.

When this is over—when the rebellion is done—you want Finnick to yourself. It’s what you deserve at the very least, after all that you’ve been through. If it’s up to you, you’d want him to propose once Panem has begun to relax. You don’t want the teasing, or more years of build up. You just want to make him officially yours, forever.

Whatever comes after doesn’t matter. As long as you can say that he’s your husband, and you’ve agreed to love each other eternally. You’ll take what’s thrown your way with grace. You won’t ask for anything ever again. You’ll be especially good, if you could get what you wanted for once.

You step through the treeline into a meadow, letting you get a clear view of what’s ahead. You take a few steps before you come to a stop, staring at the colorful buildings in the distance. While you had tried your best to stay on track for District Two, you eventually came to the conclusion that you’d rather go to the Capitol, like you’d originally planned.

It’s not that far now. If you keep going, you think you’ll make it there sometime tomorrow.

—

Four hours. That’s all the time it took for you to realize that the situation has majorly changed here. The further you travel into the Capitol, the more it grows increasingly obvious. Especially if they’ve turned to violence to keep people out.

It’s a ghost town, which is not what you expected. The streets are usually crowded, with no space on the pastel sidewalk, crawling with people dressed in bright color. You were sure that you’d get spotted in the first minute of stepping foot into the city. It turns out that you had nothing to worry about.

Well, that’s not necessarily true. While you were temporarily relieved to find out that the outer half of the Capitol had been evacuated, you were put back on alert when you figured out why. There are traps placed on almost every street, with exponential damage to the buildings around.

You’ve yet to figure out if it’s the Capitol trying to defend themselves, or the rebels ensuring that if citizens return, they’ll be met with resistance. If you had to guess, you’re leaning more toward the Capitol. The way the traps are placed are methodological—it’s a pattern you’ve seen before. It reminds you a lot of the Gamemakers.

The traps are nearly perfectly hidden, the triggers in plain sight. You fell victim to the first few, but once you started to really notice where they were and what they’d contain, it was so much easier to avoid them. Once in a while, you’ll find yourself trapped, where you have no choice but to set them off. In those cases, you duck and cover, hoping for the best.

With the sun setting, you think it’s about time you call it a night. The last thing you’d want is to miss a sign and get yourself seriously injured. Everything is easier in the daylight. Besides, you covered a lot of ground today, more than you thought you would. 

You stop in front of a lime green apartment building with front doors that are made out of frosted glass. You grab the handle, pulling it open to slip inside. The lobby is cool, reflecting the temperature on the outside. It’s very carefully decorated here, with tall green plants in white pots and a small loveseat with a side table. On top of it is a magazine, with Katniss and Peeta on the front cover.

You wander forward, looking at the directory to find a paper taped to the front of it, the words successfully evacuated printed across the middle in bold writing. You lift it up to see beneath it, curious to how many floors there are. There’s five of them, you’ll probably stay on the third floor to keep from going too high.

As you start up the steps, you keep a sharp ear and eye out for noises or cameras that might capture your appearance. Just because this part of the Capitol has been evacuated, doesn’t mean that they’ve surrendered control entirely. For all you know, there’s Peacekeeper bases around here, ready for the signal to round a rebel up.

When you reach the third floor, you choose the unit that’s located next to the fire escape that you step out of. The door is locked, of course. You hold out your knife, staring down at it. It’s dulled considerably because you’ve been using it for everything while you’ve been traveling. This will be its last job.

You stuff the blade into the keyhole, wiggling it from side to side. For a second, nothing happens, and then there’s a click. You twist the knob, pushing in, opening the door to reveal the expensive living room. You pull the knife out but leave the door open as you inspect the apartment from top to bottom. When you’re convinced there’s no one, you pick up a dining room chair, going back to the front door. You shut it, lock it as best as you can, and then shove the chair as stiffly as you can beneath the knob.

The first thing you do is raid the bedroom, tearing it apart for clothes that you’ll be able to wear without looking ridiculous. Once you have an outfit that makes sense, you shower, watching as all the built-up dirt and dried blood mixes in the water, creating a grainy substance at the bottom of the white shower.

You feel so much better when you step out, drying yourself off. You change, letting the bathroom air out while you go through every cabinet you can, searching for the medical supplies. They’re hidden when you do find them, but they’re top-grade, the type of medicine that you’d send to tributes in the arena to get them healed within days.

You read over the ointment’s directions, and then you slather it over the open wound in your arm. Your teeth are grit hard enough that you think you’ll break them, toes curling at the pain it’s causing. It burns as it works its magic, you toss the tube on the counter, leaving to go back to the living room.

The sun has fully set now, there’s barely any light coming through the windows. Still, you shut the curtains, blocking out the rest of it. You head to the kitchen next, digging through the pantry to find countless cans and boxed goods. You pull out a few familiar soups because you’re starving. After you’ve finally located a spoon, you go to sit on the living room floor in the dark to eat.

You could heat it up, you’re sure that it’d be better that way, but you don’t want to risk more than you have to. You open the can, dipping your spoon inside, and raising the creamy substance to your lips. As expected, it’s not very good when it’s cold. Yet, it could be worse.

You manage to get down half the can before an alarm cuts through the stillness, making you jump in surprise. Your hand wraps around the knife before the television set lights up on its own, and you’re immediately greeted with the face of Beetee Latier.

“This is a repeated broadcast from District Thirteen, a reminder of the faces we’ve lost to get here.” He says. “We Remember, do you?”

It cuts to Haymitch Abernathy, sitting in a dark room, wearing a grey jumpsuit. The background is an empty area. To an extent, he looks better than the last time you saw him. 

A feminine voice speaks from off-camera. “What do you remember about Cashmere and Gloss Ritchson, the brother and sister duo from District One?”

“They were a bright pair of mentors, even when they were teenagers.” Haymitch says, staring at the camera. “There was nothing the two of them couldn’t do, and it showed time and time again when they performed miracles outside of the arena. Cashmere had an undeniable dedication that was admired by everyone, and Gloss was very hardworking to ensure his tributes got the best possible. It’s a great loss we’ve suffered losing them to the Quarter Quell.”

You squint, eyebrows twitching. Is this a memorial piece? If so, it’s a little funny for someone like Haymitch to speak about Cashmere and Gloss, considering that they were never invited into the alliance. Or thought about twice, beyond the idea of them possibly killing Katniss or Peeta.

The screen fades to black slowly, before Haymitch comes up again. “Brutus, he won a couple years after I did. He was friendly to me after my Games, and had briefly tried to help me after the tragic loss of my family.” He pauses to sigh. “Even though we could never see eye to eye, that did not keep him from drinking with me on occasion.”

Beetee shows up in the next clip, in the same spot that Haymitch was on a stool, only he’s in a wheelchair. Something must’ve happened between the arena and now. You wonder if it has anything to do with the lightning tree.

“Wiress was very intuitive, incredibly intelligent.” He adjusts his glasses, shaking his head. “It may appear that we have lost no one at all, but with her absence, Panem will not function the same. She worked alongside me to create some of the more important Capitol devices, a factor they neglected to think about. We will miss her dearly.”

You finish the can of soup, and you’re pulling on the tab to open the next when his face shows up on screen. Finnick sits on the stool, eyes puffy and a little bloodshot, bags underneath from the lack of sleep. There’s a slouch in his posture, a small length of rope in his fingers that he fiddles with.

“Tell us about (Y/n) (L/n).” The female voice says.

Finnick swallows, voice quiet. “What isn’t there to say?” He asks, looking into the camera. “She was my best friend, and more than that, my girlfriend. She was the kindest person I’ve ever known, always so considerate and patient with everyone around her. How President Snow can take such a gentle life and then brag about it is a mystery.”

Your blood runs cold, suspicions confirmed. So, they have been broadcasting you as dead. They saw an opportunity and took it, wanting to make themselves look more ruthless. When in reality, they haven’t so much as touched you since you escaped.

“I love her and I miss her.” He says, tired eyes filling with tears. An overwhelming urge to reach through the screen to hold him seizes you. “If I had known my time with her would be cut short, I would’ve done everything to protect her.” He breathes shakily. “This is why we must stop the Hunger Games. For loved ones like (Y/n).”

Finnick is gone, once again replaced by Haymitch, who begins to speak about Mags, your mentor. For the first few seconds you stare at the screen, face slowly twisting before it hits you.

Mags is dead.

“What?” You murmur, sitting up.

“Mags was the first mentor to approach me after I won my Games.” Haymitch says. “She was a sweet woman that could see the pain and understood what I was going through. I was the first victor of District Twelve, she was the first face of the Hunger Games. And for as long as I let her, she helped me mentor.”

Of course she did. That’s who Mags is—was. If she saw someone that needed help, she was there. She even approached Johanna after her Games to give her some tips because Johanna was slowly sinking. 

“Mags did not deserve to die the way she did.” Haymitch says.

It moves on to the next victor, the woman from Five who was killed in the arena. You try to listen, but it’s difficult. You can feel yourself slowly getting sucked out of your body and into the open air. You’re here, but are you really?

The entirety of Panem thinks you’re dead, and as serious as the situation is—it’s a little funny. If this is the rerun, that means that they’ve been Finnick speak on your death dozens of times. There is not one person left in this country that believes otherwise.

But you’re not dead. You’re here, in one of the many luxurious Capitol apartments, eating someone else’s vegetable soup that they’ve saved. If you had gone to District Two like the girl from Nine told you to, this wouldn’t be the rumor.

For the remaining eight districts, the statements are brought from the victors that now reside in District Thirteen or some faces of previous Capitol citizens. Which you can tell by the way their skin is tinted or the tattoos that line their bodies. There’s even a part where a former Avox sits on the stool, signing while his brother translates.

It wraps up with Finnick talking about Rue and the future that was stolen from her. She was just an innocent child, and the Capitol thought it was right to force her to fight for her life with other older kids, who were much bigger and more skilled. When she should’ve been at home, with her family.

Beetee shows up at the end, hands in his lap. “We Remember.” 

The screen dies, but not completely. It glows faintly, illuminating the small area that you’re sitting in. You need to get out of here—out of the Capitol, at least. You should be with Finnick. He needs to know that you’re alive, because the idea of you being dead is killing him. After the two of you fought to be together, you’ve been ripped from his fingertips.

You don’t sleep tonight. 

You want to, with the couch being the comfiest thing you’ve laid down on in months. You know that the apartment is secured, you triple-checked everything. No one is coming to get you. This isn’t what keeps you up.

So, you relax in front of the television in the living room, eyelids feeling heavy the moment your head touches the pillow. When they shut, that’s when the problem rises. You’re not tired anymore, even after counting sheep for what feels like hours, your mind is still running.

By the time the sun is peeking through the curtains, you’re ready to leave the apartment with a packed bag. It has the essentials inside like food and water, and the ointment you’ll be using to heal your arm. You’ve grown too attached to the knife you had in the arena, so you find a way to sharpen it, giving you a reason to keep it.

The streets look the same way as they did yesterday, nothing has magically shifted. You head for the train tracks that’ll bring you to a tunnel that runs to District Two. It’s what the girl in Nine called the Nut. It serves several purposes, including training the new Peacekeepers underground, but it’s also the easiest path to get in and out of the Capitol.

While you should’ve gone to District Two straight away, you’re glad you didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t have known the whole story. You can’t imagine how overwhelming it could’ve been if you came across the rebels and they bombarded you about how you’re alive. 

You travel blindly through the streets, dodging and setting off traps, watching the chaos that follows. A few of them are made up of weapons that shoot out once triggered. You manage to react quickly most of the time, but you still come out with a few nicks from blades that are impossibly sharp.

Other traps are made up of insects that are abnormally colored and move in ways that they shouldn’t be capable of. When you see this, you decide that you’re right to say that they’re designed by the Capitol’s Gamemakers, because it makes no logical sense the other way around.

When it appears to be around lunch, you stop to eat in a shop with broken windows, stomach growling. There’s a nice aqua blue couch a few feet away from the door, void of the glass shards that litter the tile floor. You open a can of soup, and dig out a small pack of crackers to have with it. 

It’s still disgustingly cold, and yet it could be worse. After what you ate in the woods these last few weeks, anything is a good meal compared to that. Even the crackers seem like a treat.

You set the empty can on the floor when you finish, sitting back against the cushions, staring through the open window. A pair of black birds circle over a nearby alley for a minute. They’re the first sign of life that you’ve seen in this city since you got here, besides the mutts that come out of the traps.

They settle on the roof of a building, side by side, much like the birds at home when they land on power lines. You’re about to look away, when you watch as they both simultaneously tilt their heads, attention set on whatever is in the alley. Your face twists, confused.

As soon as they open their beaks, beginning to screech, you realize that they’re not birds, either. They look to be like jabberjays—a Capitol weapon. You get to your feet, swinging the bag strap over your shoulder. You don’t know how they can see you, because they are definitely not facing your direction. You shouldn’t be in their view.

You take a single step, before you freeze where you are, watching as a group of people dart out from the alleyway. They’re dressed in black, wearing combat gear and carrying weapons. You’re terrified, wondering how the Peacekeepers have found you, until you realize that they are not Peacekeepers. Peacekeepers wear white.

There’s almost a dozen of them, and their leader is pointing his finger down the street to your right, an area you haven’t explored yet. He barks out an order, one of the girls in the middle turns with a gun, shooting at the jabberjay. They flap their wings, rising from where they’re perched, flying around.

Rebels.

Your lips part, wanting to speak, but the words die in your throat. You’re not dressed like they are, you look like you belong in the Capitol because of the clothes you’re wearing. You’re even sitting in an abandoned boutique as if you’re not completely surrounded by danger.

It doesn’t matter, they’re gone before you can work up the courage to speak. You watch as one of the boys toward the end grabs another boy with blonde hair, pulling him along. Neither of them stick out in your mind, and then the first boy turns, looking over his shoulder, right at you.

It’s Finnick. It’s Finnick, and he’s pulling along Peeta. 

You move now, trying to follow him. You’re sure he’s seen you, but as you step out of the shop and in front of it, looking at where you’d been standing, you see that it’s too dark to make out much of anything. The awning above the street blocks any sunlight that might be able to get inside.

“Hey,” You call, walking after them. They’re moving too fast, trying to escape the birds, running around the corner. You begin to jog, not wanting to lose them in the maze of Capitol streets. 

Even as a team, they move remarkably fast. You’re barely catching Finnick’s bronze hair in glimpses each time they take a turn. They’re losing the birds, though. And even worse, you.

“Hey!” You shout, sprinting down the street. “Wait!”

It grows more narrow, crowded with decorations that citizens couldn’t pull inside before leaving. There’s many places to hide, too many buildings to duck into. You can’t see Finnick anymore, much less hear the stomping of their boots against the asphalt. 

When you’re breathing so hard that you’re sure you’re going to throw up your lunch, you slow down, coming to a stop in the middle of the walkway. Your face contorts, hands on your hand.

“Fuck.” You breathe, walking at a slow pace. “Finnick!”

You peer into the local stores, checking behind every bush. You know that eight people would never be able to hide around this area without splitting up. They could’ve gone anywhere.

“Finnick, please!” You stop in the middle of a crossroads, taking your time to look down what each road offers. “It’s me, it’s (Y/n)! I’m alive!” You struggle to breathe normally, whispering, “Please, I’m alive.”

When there’s no appearance, you sigh. The one chance you had, and now he’s gone.

“(Y/n)?” A faraway voice asks.

You turn instantly to face the person, finding Finnick standing at the end of a walkway. He’s not alone. In fact, he’s with the leader of the group, who’s clutching a large gun in his hands, wary. This doesn’t bother you.

“Finnick.” You say, starting toward him. “Oh my god.”

There’s a deep crease between his eyebrows, watching you come closer. “You’re—how are you here?”

You walk straight into his arms, letting him crush you against his body. You grip on tightly to his shoulder, face pressed into the space above the vest. He presses a kiss into your hair once, then twice, and again and again. When he’s had enough, he pulls away, grabbing your face to kiss your lips.

It’s gentle, loving, but quickly turns greedy as he refuses to let you go. And when he does, it’s not because he needs to breathe, it’s because his shoulders are shaking. His face is wet, eyes filled with tears. You bring his forehead to yours, thumbs wiping away the tears.

“It’s okay, Finnick.” You murmur.

“The Capitol said you were dead. They showed your body. How are you—?”

“I escaped out of the arena.” You tell him, stroking his hair. “I’ve been in the trees between the districts the whole time. I got here yesterday.”

He backs away, lips pressed together, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Of course you did.

You pout, shaking your head. “I cut the tracker out.” You show him your arm, which is looking better this afternoon, but still far from healed. “I’m not sure who’s body you saw, but it wasn’t mine.” You reach for his hands. “I am so, so sorry.”

He pulls you back into his body, hugging you. “You’re alive, (Y/n). That’s all that matters to me.” He frowns. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

-

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[your-averagewriter]

The Quarter Quell

Summary: (y/n) won the 63rd Hunger Games, almost twelve years ago. She won at the age of twelve making her the youngest victor ever. She's reaped for the Quarter Quell and has to leave her brother, Max, behind in District 4. Finnick and (y/n) are in an established relationship at the start of the Games. (the reader is female in this).

Includes: Violence, things involved in the Hunger Games books/movies, saying god in a non-religious way.

Word count: 2.2K

“This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock with a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge.” We walk along the line of rocks heading towards the island. We’re going to get more weapons and supplies seeing as I’ve lost all of mine and everyone seems to be running low. “It all starts with the lightning. Then the blood rain,” I was caught in that, not an enjoyable experience to say the least. “Fog, monkeys. That’s the first four hours. At 10:00, that big wave hits from over there.” She points to where I assume the wave came from.

“Wiress, you’re a genius.” Finnick who was just in front of me speeds up and walks past her.

“Look, the tail points to twelve.” Peeta points out with his machete.

“That’s where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight.” I chime in.

“Strikes where?” Beetee questions looking towards me and Katniss points it out.

“That big tree.”

“Good.” He replies. I’d be worried about him if he wasn’t my friend.

I jog straight past Finnick who stands holding his trident and I look around the Cornucopia. Most of the swords have been taken assumably by the careers. I examine the sets of knives testing them out and eventually picking a set. I move on further into the structure towards the non-weapon supplies. There’s backpacks and flasks and a bag of apples. I grab the bag of apples and rip it open, I take one for myself.

“Hey Finn, heads up.” I throw an apple towards him which he catches with a smirk before biting into it. “Jo!” I shout to her as she’s further away. She turns to me and I signal to the bag in my hand, she nods and I chuck one at her. She catches and bites into it. I place the bag on the floor making a mental note of it’s position before biting into the apple. It tastes nice, especially compared to the taste of blood. As I eat the apple I look around at the other weapons, spears, axes. I search around for better weapons but the best I find is a mace. I guess others took the better weapons.

I pick it up and smirk, it’s actually a very good mace, good weight and length good for bludgeoning and throwing I think to myself before returning back to the group. I pick up the bag with a few apples left and bring it with me. I return to Wiress still chanting nursery rhymes by the edge and everyone just standing around. But Peeta crouches down in the sand, he pulls out his machete and starts drawing in the black sand.

“So 12:00 to 1:00, lightning. Then 1:00 to 2:00 is blood. Then fog and then monkeys.”

“Then 10:00 to 11:00, the wave. What about everything else? Did you guys see anything?”

I shake my head as Wiress’s singing echoes through my head.

“Nothing but blood,” Johanna says. She was in the blood rain as well but we weren’t together.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peeta says. “As long as we steer clear of whichever sector is active, we’ll be safe.” I scoff.

“Yeah, relatively speaking,” Finnick says the obvious.

Then Wiress gasps loudly, everyone turns to her and Gloss pulls a knife out of her chest. The canon goes off and instantly Katniss shoots him in his chest, he falls and another cannon goes off. Cashmere jumps out of the water behind him with a knife. I push Katniss to the floor, out of the way and I throw the mace at her. Finnick yells as he ‘spars’ with Brutus. Finnick pushes with a trident whilst Brutus mimics him with a spear. I think her name is Enobaria. She runs around the corner yelling and tries to throw a knife at Finnick but she narrowly misses. I leap over the rocks and I chase her picking up my mace along the way. She runs back to where she came from and I follow close behind her then Brutus follows behind me. She runs along the line of rocks and I throw a couple of knives at her, one falls into the water whilst the other is lodged into her shoulder.

I glance over my shoulder and see that Brutus isn’t that far behind me, I speed up but decide that I'd be at a disadvantage chasing her so I dive into the water.

“(y/n)!” I hear Finnick’s distorted shouting under the water.

Gripping my mace and the bag of apples I swim, still submerged, towards the island but suddenly larger waves crash over me.

I swim up to get a breath and I watch as the island spins. The waves around it thrash and blind my vision, I try to swim backwards away from the island. I can hear them screaming, I think it’s Johanna, I swim away but the tides aren’t working like normal tides, it’s pulling me in more than I’m pushing away. It’s pulling me down, I take a quick breath before being dragged down.

Suddenly another figure is thrown into the water on top of me, I grunt internally as the force is indescribable. I’m sent further underwater now not even controlling my swimming, I’m spinning around being taken with the tides along with the other person. The tides get weaker but I can feel my consciousness leaving me, my breath shortening. I feel the water becoming calmer again but my body goes limp. I can hear people shouting my name but I can’t even open my eyes. I finally feel myself losing the battle with consciousness but as I do I feel a pair of arms wrap around my chest and I’m filled with more hope for my life.

I’m pulled out of the water but the shouts still sound distorted. I feel a pair of lips on mine, the feeling of warmth blessing my cold skin. I can feel the air being forced into my lungs and finally, I have the strength to breathe. I spit out some water before gasping at the overwhelming excess of oxygen. I spit out a lot of water, still laying on the floor. My eyes flutter open and I’m met with Finnick looking down at me, crouching next to me looking quite worried.

“(y/n). (y/n), thank god.” He says before sitting back on his heels. He tilts his head back breathing heavily, relieved I assume. He looks back down to me and kisses me. It’s hard and desperate almost, I can feel his worry dissipating slightly. It’s a sloppy kiss but what else could you expect it’s quick. It stops as quickly as it started. He smiles down at me.

“Can you stand?” I notice that almost everyone else is standing around me. I nod.

I sit up and he offers me his hand. I take it and stand up properly.

“7/10, do not recommend drowning.” I say slightly joking.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off this bloody island.” Johanna says scornfully. I give her a joking thumbs up before realising I don’t have my mace and that it has likely sunk. I sigh before walking over to the edge. I look over and see the glint of metal from the bottom of the sea. I roll my eyes before walking back over to the Cornucopia and grabbing a harvest knife left on one of the boxes. I walk back over to Finnick and the others, they’ve sorted themselves out.

We walk back over to the rock lines and walk back towards the beach. The island is a nightmare just like the jungle. We all sit down on the sand and I follow suit standing by a tree. Everyone talks about what to do now. Johanna suggests we hunt them down and Finnick says that they won’t attack again

A voice suddenly comes from the jungle, someone screaming.

“Katniss! Katniss, help me!” It’s a young girl’s voice, I assume it's her sister’s.

“Prim! Prim!” She bolts into the jungle and I’m quick to follow her. I chase her as she runs in front of me. I’m fast, not amazingly strong, but I’m really fast.

“Katniss! No! Katniss” I yell but she keeps running, under vines over logs. She sprints through the jungles and towards the voice, both of them still yelling out but ‘Prim’s’ voice doesn’t react to Katniss at all.

Finally she stops running and looks around, she pulls out her bow and shoots something above her. The screaming stops and a bird falls to the floor.

“(y/n)! (y/n) help me!” Max’s voice.

“Max?” I yell back questioning the voice looking for him.

“(y/n).” Katniss says standing in front of me. I start to run towards his voice as he yells again. “No! It’s not him!” She tries to warn me as I yell out his name and run towards it jumping over the plants. He screams out in pain.

“Max!” His voice is shrill and hoarse. I chase the voice out into a more open section of the arena and I stop looking around for him.

“(y/n)! It’s not him!” Katniss yells at me from behind me grabbing my shoulder. “It’s just a jabberjay, it’s not him!” She says with her hair slicked to her forehead.

“Well, how’d you think they got that sound?” I ask her as if it’s obvious. “Jabberjays copy.” I point out and her face contorts with fear as another unfamiliar voice shouts.

“Gale.” She mumbles as he shouts again. I look around for where it’s coming from and a load of birds fly in.

The mutts scream in Max’s voice, they yell out and scream in pain. Then it’s Finnick’s voice, he yells and his voice sounds twisted like he’s being tortured. The screams echo through my head, reverberating as I run away from the flock of mutts. I place my hand on Katniss’s shoulder and lead her away with me, we duck as more birds fly in screaming and pecking at us.

“Come on! Come on Katniss!” I shout at her and she runs ahead of me. The crowd of birds grows and grows until even the screams of this Gale make me feel distressed. We run through the jungle towards the beach and away from the mutts as quickly as we can but they stay merely a metre away at all times. I duck again as the mutts swoop down to pull at my hair and clothes pecking at my skin.

Katniss runs ahead as I try to cover my ears blocking out the screams but they’re so loud. I look up from the ground and the others are near us, on the other side of some invisible wall.

“Katniss stop!” I yell as she runs into the wall but my voice is lost in the mutts’ screams. She hits the wall hard and I slump down the side of it away from her. Finnick’s banging on the wall on the other side, his mouth is moving but I can’t hear him. I bang the wall aggressively as tears start to fall from my eyes. The screams, cries and pecking from the mutts finally breaking through. I scream out to Max and to Finnick even though I can see him in front of me. His face is painted with worry and mine is coated in tears and blood. I finally give up on banging the wall and revert back to covering my ears. I lean against the invisible wall and thread my hands into my hair pulling rough but covering my ears as best I can. It works to an extent but within a minute my nails are digging into my scalp and soon after I’m drawing blood. It trickles down the side of my face along with the tears.

“Max.” I whisper. “Max. Max.” I can imagine him watching the Games right now at his school watching me bent over suffering. “Max.” I cry out.

I remain crouched on the floor screaming and clawing at my ears until the hours up. I yell and scream and I cry. Every negative emotion is portrayed on my face at different moments during the hour.

As soon as the hour is up I hear Finnick’s voice. He calls out my name and I hear a small thump as he falls (the wall disappearing). He quickly gets up and runs towards me kneeling next to me. He wraps his arms around me as the tears flow uncontrollably down my face and I shiver.

“Max!” I yell out extremely concerned for his safety. “Max! Where is he?”

“No, he’s fine. He’s fine, love.” Finnick says, rubbing my shoulder as I look up at him, eyes wide. “It’s not real. It’s not real.” He reassures me slowly. “They wouldn’t hurt your brother, the Capitol loves him.”

“The whole country loves your brother.” Johanna points out and my head whips up towards her. “Both of your siblings, really. If they tortured them or did anything to them, forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn Capitol.” Johanna smirks at Katniss and I look back to Finnick. I stroke his face frantically looking into his eyes.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” I say to myself trying to reassure myself. He places his hands on top of mine with a hint of a smile. Johanna rants to no one in particular but I can’t hear her, all I can do is look at Finnick. “You’re alive.” I say quietly.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

My tumblr page is a bit of a mess at the moment, I love so many franchises and fandoms and I have so many ideas to write. Eventually, I'll make a masterlist to order everything.

You can comment any requests or franchises you'd like me to write for, I'd love to hear your ideas!

[jahayla-parker]

💭Headcanon: send in a character and a scenario or type of reader to get a bullet point list of thoughts on it.

finnick odair and childhood friends to lover w the reader <3

Ahhh Elll 😭 you want me to do bullet point Headcanons for this? I could do a whole fic on this 😭 he’s so precious and this is so cute

Okay, okay, here we go…

Finnick Odair Childhood Friends to Lovers Headcanons

“You”= reader cause it felt more natural that way lol

Finnick had a crush on you since you guys were little.

He’d always invite you to go with him to the beach in order to spend time together.

You guys would build sandcastles together

And he would help you collect pretty shells, loving the sweet smile it reliably brought to your face

He was the one who taught you how to swim.

Finnick was so proud when you picked it up so easily.

He was always so protective of you and he knew being able to swim would keep you safe

When reality hit, he was always so worried about your and his names being called for the reapings each year

He would always try to calm you before the event, saying how he just knew your names wouldn’t be called; even if he didn’t believe it himself.

His eyes would always look for you in the crowd during the ceremony and let out a breath of relief when you both managed to make it through another reaping.

He found himself being jealous when male classmates showed interest in you

But little did he know, he had no reason to be jealous for you’d developed feelings for him as well

Finnick was always there for you wherever you needed him.

Sometimes it was issues with your family.

Others times it was stress about the fact that the District Four residents training for the games was a daily reminder that you two could be torn apart by the Capitol should one of your names be called in the annual reapings.

Sometimes it was just hormones or other issues.

It didn’t matter, Finnick was always there.

And you were always there for him.

It was perfect.

Finnick debated about telling you his feelings multiple times.

But the sweet boy always panicked.

He loved you too much to risk losing you.

He was fine with the way things were, as long as he was able to have you in his life, things were great.

That is, until his name was called at the young age of 14.

To say you were distraught would be an understatement.

You threw yourself in his arms the moment you were allowed in the visiting room at the city hall after the reaping.

Finnick was trying to be strong for you, but he was of course terrified and he knew you knew him well enough to be able to tell.

You vowed to watch over his family

But Finnick made you also promise to stay safe and to follow any orders from The Peacekeepers who always stayed in town during the duration of the games.

You both exchanged countless other promises and words of support

You made Finnick promise in exchange that he’d win and return to you

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing him.

Your fear and heartbreak led you to take a leap you never thought you’d do

You cupped Finnick’s crying face in your shaking hands and told him that you loved him.

You nervously confessed that you didn’t mean as just friends.

You felt bad for telling him this now.

But Finnick had to know. Should something happen, he had to know that he was loved.

As you began to apologize for the timing but explain yourself, Finnick cried and whispered to you that he loved you too

You two shared a short but passionate kiss just before the Peacekeepers entered to take him away.

You screamed and fought against the officers as they pulled the boy away

But with one pleading look from Finnick, you stopped and sniffled as you watched him be lead out of the room, away from you.

The games were excruciating.

For both of you

Finnick hated what he had to do in the arena

But he was motivated to make it back to you.

To keep his promise to you that he’d return

To be able to finish what had finally started between you two after his reaping

You were devastated as you watched your sweet boy suffer

You never watched the games before.

And you absolutely hated watching these games

Yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of the screen

Day and night you could be found watching the screen

Searching for Finnick and watching over him as he sleep

As if you could somehow keep him safe from this far away

Your heart broke for him each time you watched his reactions to having to take the life of another victor.

You were astonished and confused by the gifting of the trident from a Capitol resident.

You knew no one had gotten such an extravagant or deadly gift during the games before

You were relieved in that it would help keep Finnick safe

But there was this sensation that something was off, wrong, and you couldn’t shake it.

When Finnick won the games, you were balling your eyes out

You foolishly ran to the train station to wait for him the moment the games ended, unable to wait patiently

Only for your and Finnick’s loved ones to remind you that he would have to be paraded around The Capitol and the other Districts for a bit first

But you were still tempted to stay there until you saw him get off the train

Until you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you

Until you knew he was alive and safe (little did you know what was about to happen to poor 14yr old Finnick)

But you recalled your promise to him that you’d be safe, and staying alone at the train station for days on end wouldn’t be fulfilling that promise

When it was time for him to return, you were there bright and early.

The moment he stepped off the train, his eyes were on you.

Little did you know he had been looking through the window for you the moment the train pulled into the station

But, he wouldn’t let you show your feelings to him right now.

He’d already been confronted by Snow

He wasn’t going to take any risks when it came to your safety.

Even if that meant he had to break your heart by being distant

It was made a tiny bit easier by his shame of what he’d done during the game, he knew he wasn’t the same boy you’d fallen for and he worried you’d change your mind after knowing what he’d done in the games

Even if you hadn’t, you would if you found out what he now had to do

But he couldn’t tell you

He couldn’t stand to see you fall out of love with him

Couldn’t risk you finding him as disgusting as he now felt

And he couldn’t risk telling you his situation knowing that Snow told him to keep it a secret

But if he allowed you to embrace him and hold him right now, the way he wanted, needed, he knew Snow could and would use it against him.

If he ever even accidentally stepped out of line, he knew Snow would use you to punish him

So as much as it broke his heart to see the confusion and look of heartbroken rejection in your eyes, he continued to subtly shake his head at you as he walked through the crowd that had gathered to see his return

You watched in despair as everyone fawned over Finnick.

You could see the pain in his eyes

But you seemed to be the only one who noticed it

Everyone else saw him as the proud shiny new victor, even his own mother. (A/n: his dad is said to be deceased in his wiki but his mom is still listed as alive but that’s all unclear)

But it didn’t matter that you saw the actual hurt because he hadn’t let you even approach him.

You were too heartbroken to even be angry

You’d been so worried about him and couldn’t wait to see him again

Yet it felt like he’d forgotten everything that happened before he’d left

And you felt guilty for even being upset by that

After all, he’d just gone through hell in the games

Of course he had other things on his mind

But you couldn’t help but be heartbroken about the dynamics of his return

After all, even if you’d not kissed him and confessed your love to each other, he was still your best friend

Or at least he had been when he’d left

And yet now he didn’t seem to want you around.

Yet you stayed, unable to part from him even if you couldn’t actually be close to him

After a few hours of sulking as you stayed off to the side as Finnick met with various District Four residents, including plenty of girls who suddenly were batting their eyes at him, you pulled yourself together and left

Finnick felt like the worst person in the world

Especially seeing your face whenever he had to pretend he was interested in the girls who kept approaching him

When he was finally allowed to go to his new home in Victor’s Village, he snuck away to find you

He went to your house, only to find you weren’t there

He instantly began to worry that he messed up somehow and Snow had already followed through on his threats

So he ran, literally ran, to the one place he thought you might be

And he practically collapsed in relief when he found you sitting there, staring out at the rough waves

Finnick had approached you that night

And while you were still upset about earlier, you couldn’t help but pull him into your arms as you both cried.

You didn’t have it in you to talk about the elephant in the room, not wanting to hear him tell you he’d realized there were far better girls he could be with and no longer wanted to be with you

But Finnick’s guilt was eating at him.

You’d stayed the night, at Finnick’s request, the just night only to wake up to him having nightmares.

As such, you’d been staying with him each night since he got back, holding him and comforting him through the aftermath of the games

And while he cherished the support, it made him feel even more guilty about his secret and about not explaining himself

But he selfishly couldn’t risk losing your support so he kept it in

That is, until one day he’d returned from a trip to The Capitol and didn’t see you in his new home

He ran the length of the coast trying to find you

He’d reluctantly returned to his house in Victor’s village that night and broke down in tears as his eyes landed on your sleeping frame as you rested on his couch

Upon hearing his sobs, you woke up and practically flung your half-awake body over the edge of the couch to get to him.

You had known something was going on. You knew him too well. And you knew that other victors didn’t return to the Capitol as frequently as he did. And you knew he wasn’t quite himself whenever he’d get back. You knew it took a few days for your Finnick to return. Even after he’d work through a lot of the aftermath of the games. But after no answer the few times you’d asked, you decided not to press.

But you couldn’t take that route anymore. Not when he was sobbing in your arms and holding onto you like his life depended on it.

After a lot of supportive encouragement, Finnick finally explained what Snow had forced him into.

You were downright livid.

Finnick felt horrible and couldn’t stop apologizing for what he’d done

You had reassured him for hours on end that you weren’t upset, mad, hurt, disappointed, disgusted, or any of other self-deprecating thoughts he’d feared you were feeling towards him.

It had taken a long time and lots of conversations for you two to figure out how to move forward

You wanted to go after Snow and it took everything in Finnick to convince you not to.

Meanwhile, Finnick worried he wasn’t worthy of being with you because of what he was having to do, and it took everything in you to convince him that it didn’t change how you saw him and that should he want a relationship, it didn’t mean he would be being disloyal to you

It took some time, but things slowly began to return to normal… or, closer to the way they were before his reaping, apart from that you were now officially together

Finnick kept the change in dynamics of your relationship as private as possible so Snow wouldn’t realize you became more than close friends.

But he was still the sweetest boyfriend ever

There were undoubtedly hard times wherever he had to leave

And he felt so guilty and disgusting when he returned

But with your help, he was able to feel like himself again each time

I could keep going but there’s a million different ways I could take it and it would be more of a fic at that point haha so I’ll conclude it there 💙

Finnick Odair Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @heroinhchicblog222

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[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Chapter 2

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use, poison use

A/N: Thanks for waiting so long! This chapter was a bit tricky but I’m finally happy with how it’s turned out. My ask box is open if anyone has any suggestions or requests while I work on the next chapter.

Word count: 5.4K

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Dark.

All she can see is dark.

Her hands come up in front of her, feeling for her surroundings. Nothing can be found, all she can perceive is the immense blackness surrounding her. All at once the world explodes into color, white light invading her senses and making her eyes burn. Colors assault her eyes, stinging alongside the bright light.

She squints, first looking at her hands. Crimson covers her from fingers to elbows, thick and sticky. The smell of iron hits her nose, making her mouth taste metallic. She takes in a sharp breath, the sight making her stumble back. She trips over a blunt object, falling back onto the ground.

She is met with the face of her sister, face pale with cloudy eyes. Blood splattered across her once warm body, lying cold on the white tile. She chokes out a strangled noise, trying her best to crawl her way backwards but stops suddenly as she comes into contact with a slimy substance. Her head whips around, her hand lying in a mix of vomit and coagulated blood. The smell of bile mixes with iron, a sweet scent of death in the air.

Her brother's body lies behind her, a broken neck with those same white eyes staring at her. strangulation marks on his neck and stab wounds littering his torso. She screams, her own voice only further startling her and sending her into the clutches of panic.

A voice loudly shouts to her, she immediately recognizes it as her mother. “Male and Female, only one can remain”

Both her siblings sit up at that moment, screaming simultaneously in pain in sorrow at the utterance of the words. Her mother wails in union with her two children, screaming the same words over and over again. In the distance she sees the woman, rushing towards them in the empty white space. She too is pale and covered with blood, a gaping hole in her stomach.

“ONLY ONE” She shrieks as she finally reaches her living daughter.

Y/N sits up in bed, screaming in horror. She hugs herself with her knees pulled up to her chest and her body erupting in shakes. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sobs into the darkness. “What in the hell was that?!” She manages to think to herself.

An Avox woman opens the door, poking her head in and staring at the panic stricken girl. Quiet as a mouse before then she retreats as suddenly as she had arrived, the door closing behind her. Y/N lets her head rest on her knees as she tries to mentally recover from the horrific nightmare.

A moment later a knock raps on her door, causing her to tense. “‘M fine! Just a nightmare!” She calls out with a shaking voice. The door opens anyway, Finch peeking in with tired eyes and a bed head that could rival the best. “Heard you next door” He explains “you ok? Wanna talk?” He asks, stepping into the room a bit more.

She can only let out a shuddering breath, giving him a shrug. “I don’t know-“ she gets out, cutting herself off with a sharp intake of breath. Finch frowns, walking over to the large bed and sitting on the edge, grabbing the familiar green book from her nightstand. “How about we just try this hm?” He asks gently, moving to sit next to her. He sets an arm around her back in case she wants comfort, and starts to read.

“Chia sage or (Salvia Columbariae) are seeds collected from the spikey, dried seed heads of the aforementioned plant. They are incredibly nutritious and eaten in addition to large meals or as a snack for short term energy.” He speaks softly, looking over at her every other paragraph to try and glimpse her face.

She peeks up at him with teary eyes, doing her best to listen to his words. She tries to take deep breaths, hiccuping every other inhale. His eyes return to the page as he reads more, daring to bring his hand down to rest on her shoulder.

“Certain plants can help lead to water, most can’t grow without a source nearby. These include Willows (Salix spp.) cottonwoods (populus fremontii and other populus spp.) and desert fan palm (Washingtonia filifera).” He reads, nodding along to the book as he runs his thumb along her shoulder.

“Saguaro cacti can also have water in them, and food too.” She remembers quietly, another hiccup escaping her lips. He only smiles, continuing to read as she slowly leans into him.

“Juniper (Juniperus spp.) is a small group of evergreens that can produce wood and fiber for fire. The bushes can also produce wood for hunting bows and a distinct smell to hide one from prey. There are over 45 different types of juniper, all juniper berries containing a powerful oil (Thujone.) These oils can cause upset stomach, diarrhea, and kidney damage when ingested in large amounts. The safest berry to eat is from the most common variety of the bush, (Juniperus communis) and is used to make Gin, medicine and flavor food.”

Her head hits his chest as he continues to read, his breaths and vibrations of his voice quickly lulling her to a tired state. He only continues to read, his body settling deeper into the bed as his arm tightens around the girl. He can't help but melt as the girl cuddles up to him. It’s not long before she falls asleep on his chest, and he follows soon after.

Only a few hours later the two are awoken by the sudden and loud explosion of knocking on the door, Furisha calling them for breakfast. “Training day 2 my lovelies! You mustn’t be late!” She calls into the room, the groggy teens all but groaning at her words.

Y/N sits up first, stretching until her back releases a satisfying popping noise. “Weak” Finch laughs to himself, twisting his body until his spine cracks loudly. She only laughs tiredly, calling him gross and putting a pair of slippers on her feet.

The tributes walk out to breakfast, no longer caring about appearances at that meal. Each was served the hot chocolate they had come to expect, along with an assortment of other delicacies. Y/N picked at her breakfast while Finch devoured everything he could. Their mentors didn’t seem to have much to say at that particular meal, a few comments thrown in for sure but as usual most talking was done by Furisha.

The day was once again gruesome, A few fights breaking out between tributes over puny things like weapons or fire making. The female tribute Dutchess from district 1 continued to glare at Y/N throughout the day, especially hating when her partner Ammo chatted with the girl. Y/N tried to ignore the glares but found it a bit harder as a few more tributes joined in. The girl from district 5 didn’t seem to like her or Finch much either, along with both the tributes from 12.

Tension was high by the end of the day, the tributes all returning to their quarters to eat a quick dinner and prepare for bed. Gamemaker scoring was the next day, and everyone was either much too cocky or terrified.

Dinner consisted of a few roast birds, mostly Turkey, duck and chicken with a few rarities thrown in the mix. Y/N ate white meat Turkey with multicolored caramelized carrots and a dollop of potatoes swirled with orange and white. The dish was served with a dark thick gravy and a sweet red sauce. She ate greedily after the day she had experienced.

After dinner was halfway over Enobaria finally spoke, “So what will you two be doing for your scoring?” She inquired, taking a sip of her red wine. Finch smiled, taking the opportunity to gush about his swordsmanship and ability to throw knives. He had been trained most of his life after all, he had a right to be confident.

Y/N on the other hand bit her lip, she had no idea what to do. What skills did she even have? Maybe show a climbing skill? Or how fast could she run? There wasn’t much of a chance of her getting a great score. “And I’m…deciding?” She said uneasily, giving an uncomfortable smile to the table.

“You have a few skills, it’s just hard to decide what to pick since none can be combined.” Brutus said, taking a bite of a large Turkey leg. Enobaria agreed, “we need to figure out your absolute best skill and market that. Maybe flow with that little princess image Aerith seems to be curating for you.” She said with an almost teasing smile.

Y/N frowned a bit, she hated the portrait that was being painted over her. She wanted to be herself in her last days, not an object for everyone to fawn over. “You’ll do great.” Finch said from next to her, patting her shoulder. Furisha agreed with him quickly, “The doe eyed look can get you some amazing sponsors too! I’ve seen it work plenty.” She mentioned with a bright grin and nod of the head.

That might’ve been the first helpful thing Furisha had said to her, but nevermind that. She had to think of her best skill, a marketable skill. Y/N poked at her dinner as the conversation went on around her. She continued deep in thought as she went to shower and go to bed.

The next morning it came to her, like a message from an oracle. Plants, she was amazing at sorting plants. She could show the game makers her skills with sorting, kindling, edible and poisonous plants. That could be a bit of a salvation when it came to numbers.

She hopped out of bed and put her training suit back on, doing her hair and brushing her teeth before rushing to breakfast to discuss options with her mentors.

The breakfast table was empty as she approached, snatching a cup and downing a glass of juice quickly. She anxiously sat on a couch by the window as she waited for her current companions to arrive. She didn’t have to wait long before footsteps came down the hall, Enobaria walking around the corner.

Y/N perked up, a slight smile on her face. She was excited to share the tiny triumph with her mentor for some reason. “Good morning” she spoke, looking up at the woman who gave a tired smile in response. “I figured out what I can do for the game makers” she blurted out, moving to sit on the edge of her seat.

“You did huh?” Enobaria questioned, pouring a cup of coffee for herself with a raised brow. Y/N nodded, “I’m good with plants, I think I can separate what’s edible from poison.” She revealed a proud smile on her face. Enobaria took a long sip of her coffee, sighing as she looked at the young woman. “You have to do more than that, the games have been going on for a long time and they’ve seen kids exactly like you time and time again.” She explained.

Y/n's brows furrowed a bit as she continued to speak, “You need to really wow the game makers, show them how lethal you can be.” She said, taking another sip of coffee. Y/N frowned at the suggestion “I have no idea what I’m doing, how am I supposed to be lethal if I don’t even want to kill?” She asked, frustrated at the apparent lack of options.

Enobaria looked at her pointedly “You aren't weak and you aren't stupid, you can force yourself to think of it as something other than murder. Think of it as a creation of opportunity rather than the death of a human, it's a way to see your family.” She advised, a hard look on her face. The thought made her sick but she knew to stay alive for more than 10 minutes in the arena she would have to accept the truth of her fate. “Womanhood is survival and you don't have to be particularly strong to do it, you just have to be persistent and when the situation calls for it you need to have venom.”

Y/N unfortunately understood what she was being told, she nodded along as her mentor spoke. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and thought for a moment on the words. “What about poison? I bet I could make something with all the stuff they give us” she thought aloud. Enobaria smiled, all sharp teeth. “That's a start, but we can build on it.” she said, sitting forward in her seat.

The women talked for a few more minutes, strategizing on the best plants and animals for making deathly concoctions. Brutus joined in after a while and gave his thoughts and suggestions, he thought she should rely more on physical strength but Enobaria disagreed. Finch came to breakfast after a few more minutes and as usual most attention was on him, he had a natural charming air about him.

Their breakfast seemed unusual that morning, a mix of fish and rice. Y/N assumed the dishes were common in the fishing districts like 4 or 5, making her mind drift for just a second to that bronze haired mentor with the charming smile and the dimples that could just make her scream. The fish was served with a savory soup, white rice, eggs and sausages. She liked it much more than she thought, the fish was fresh and didnt have too much of a scent and the soup had a certain calming factor with a slight ginger flavor at the end. Finch seemed to enjoy the spicy sauce that was provided, taking a green paste and slathering his fish in the substance.

Breakfast was short but filling, the meal ending with furisha pestering them to get a move on to keep with the day's schedule. The morning seemed to go by quickly as well, Y/N spending most of her time on learning to make fire and studying the plants that were provided. Finch urged her to study with the weapons a bit but her mind was otherwise occupied and she only did a bit of training with the instructors.

By the time lunch had come along she was buzzing with both nervousness and excitement. She ate a simple lunch of sliced meat, cheese and a few pieces of fruit. She felt she could throw up with the amount of excitement bubbling up in her chest. Finally she and the rest of the tributes were led to a large holding room with small numbered benches.She followed Finch and sat on the number 2 bench, directly behind the tributes from district 1. Duchess looked over her shoulder, giving her a displeased tight smile, turning back to her partner and whispering. Y/N chewed her lip, wringing her hands a bit in nervousness.

Finch leaned down to her ear “it's all gonna be ok, they just wanna know what you can do.” he spoke gently. He had turned out to be so much more soft than she imagined, she honestly wondered if he had any bad qualities at all. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder “Just nervous is all” she muttered. He leaned back into her, warmth radiating off his form. “Surprisingly I'm not, I mean this is what I trained for.” He shrugged lightly. “So you'll be showing your sword and knife skills?” she wondered, glancing up at him. “Most likely, unless I figure out something better in the next 10 minutes,” he joked.

A male voice spoke over the intercom, “Ammo Montgomery, District 1, please report for individual assessment.” Ammo stood up in front of them, patting his companion on the back and heading for the steel gate that opened at the end of the room. How nerve wracking it must've been to go first, to warm up the judges of the group's fate for 23 other people.

Time once again seemed to pass quickly with Dutchess called soon after. Finch did his best to distract Y/N as they waited, telling her a story of how his little sister and the family cat had given him a scar on his wrist. She softly laughed along to the story before once again being interrupted by the voice on the speaker.

“Finch Glenn, District 2, please report for individual assessment” the man said in a monotone voice. She cringed and looked at him, “wish me luck” he said as he stood “ you'll do great too I know it” He encouraged her as he patted her head as he started towards the steel gate. She watched him disappear into what looked like a dark hallway and sat uncomfortably alone. Her eyes searched the group around her and she caught the eye of the girl from district 8, who smiled, the young girl seemed to be nervous as well.

Minutes passed and she felt stuck in her own head, the room was bare with no distractions and it made her feel even more uneasy as she picked at her fingers. Finally her name was called over the intercom as those before her. She stood and looked at the steel gate, making her way over to it quickly.

She made her way down the darkened hallway cautiously, stepping into the light of the empty gymnasium she had trained in earlier that day. She looked up to the skybox where the gamemakers sat, watching her every move. Walking to the center of the room in front of her small audience she stopped, waiting for them to address her in some way. “You have 10 minutes to present your chosen skill.” a man near the center said with a wave of his hand.

“Um Thank you” she said awkwardly, not quite sure what to say to the group of powerful people. She turned to look over the room, spotting a table full of potted plants. That looked like the best place to start, she supposed. Taking stock of the herbs and foliage she noticed quickly that a certain fruit was among them. A Nightchineel was a mix of two extremely deadly plants being Nightlock berries and a Manchineel apple. The fruit constricted the diaphragm muscles, stopping any breathing and setting the nervous system on fire. It also burned the skin badly at one touch of the leaves or juice.

She smiled and took a towel, picking up the fruit and bringing it to a workstation the gamemakers could see. She slipped on a pair of gloves, cutting the fruit and mashing it. She then added a mix of nettles. Ivy, and elderberries to the mix, making a green speckled purple paste. She hollowed out a mango next, careful as possible to avoid breaking the skin and funneled the thick mixture inside.

She stepped up to a test dummy, the ones in the capitol were specifically designed to imitate what a human would do when injured, poisoned or killed. The gamemakers thought it would help give tributes better statistics going into games. She stood back and threw the mango at the dummy, hitting it square in the face. The data showed on a screen next to her, the poison burned the skin and eyes badly. The monitor showed a victim would be disoriented, swollen and have lesions on the skin, if they ingested the liquid the only possible fate would be death.

She looked up to the faces of the gamemakers, hopeful she made an impression. Most remained stoic but she received a few nods from the group at her work. “Thank you” she said once more, awkwardly looking between her observers and the door. “ Is it- am I allowed to go now?” she asked, not wanting to disobey or disrespect the people who held her fate in their hands. One of the men held an open hand towards the door with a nod, signaling it was ok to leave.

She was led by a peacekeeper out of the gymnasium to the arms of her mentors, Furisha and the one she wanted to see most, Finch. He smiled as they saw each other, scooping her up in a friendly hug. “You did it, told you!” he said happily. The hug surprised her and her arms automatically flew around him. She wondered why he seemed to care so much, yes they had known each other as children but he had no real attachment to her after the age of 10. She sank into the hug anyway, his warmth comforting after the anxiety of the presentation.

Furisha looked as if she was about to make a comment but was quickly shut down by a look from Enobaria. The two tributes hugged each other for a moment longer, her face buried in his chest and his cheek resting her head.

They broke away and he held her hand in his own, she looked up at him and he smiled again. Enobaria finally spoke, “Leys get back and get you guys changed, you get to have the night and morning off.” She said with a small smile of her own. Y/N was excited to rest, the days of training had been stressful and she knew she needed a bit of time to lounge before the exhaustion of the games.

The group returned to their quarters and parted ways. Y/N peeled off her training suit, flinging it onto her freshly made bed. She sighed at the small feeling of freedom, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her neck. She opted to throw on a loose grey shirt with a hood attached, stretchy black pants and socks. The outfit was boring compared to some of her previous choices but extremely comfortable.

She walked out to the bookshelves, choosing a book on bugs. She sat on the couch nearby and tucked her legs underneath her, cracking open the red cover. A few pictures littered the pages, anatomical diagrams mostly. The smell of the old paper soothed her and the quiet felt calm.

She read about Arachnids first, the eight legged critters had always made her a bit uncomfortable. She hoped they weren’t too big a part of the games, and if they were she hoped she didn’t encounter them. She heard brutus enter the room, going to rummage about the kitchen before dinner. She kept reading as Enobaria and Furisha entered the room, gossiping about some socialite she didn’t care to remember the name of.

Finch flopped on the couch next to her at some point, turning the television to some channel that talked of betting on the games. He sprawled out with his head laid close to her lap, he doodled in a notebook idly. His need to be close to her was interesting, she didn’t understand it.

Maybe he felt connected because of their shared fate? She thought about it as she stared at the words in her book. He had always been extremely popular in school and around town, his handsome face and kind disposition certainly not hindering the fact. She on the other hand was just a face in the crowd, she had friends yes but people didn’t wave to her on the street like they did for him.

What made her so interesting to him? And was it just friendly interest? Or did he have something more in mind? Was she overthinking or was spark she felt real? She chewed her lip unconsciously, so many questions and possibilities swimming in her head.

“You ok? You’ve been staring at that paragraph and picture of a spider for like…5 minutes now.” Finch asked, interrupting her self interrogation. She blinked rapidly, snapping out of her trance and looking over to him. He looked up at her from his sprawled out position next to her. She nodded, his long lashes and sweet concerned look making a few butterflies flutter around her chest.

“Just got lost in thoughts” she muttered, her eyes meeting his. He suddenly moved upwards and laid his head on her lap, “what about?” He asked. She flushed a bit at the sudden contact “you” she blurred out unintentionally. He smirked and she quickly tried to fix her mistake, “you know like our alliance and how well we do in the arena” she laughed nervously.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night honey” he teased, causing her blush to deepen. She doubled down on her excuses “I mean it! I was thinking about how we could watch each other's backs!” She said defensively. He only smirked, picking her sketchbook back up and running his pencil over the paper again.

She watched the lines he sketched and quickly realized he was drawing her. It wasn’t amazing but it was certainly beautiful in its own way. He drew her the way she looked back home, hair undone and always covered in a light sheen of dust. She smiled at the drawing and gently let her fingers pet his curls. He leaned back into her hand as she did, her nails Scratching along his scalp.

“I wish we could stay like this” he muttered “comfortable and well fed and had time to draw or read when we wanted.” His eyes shifted up once more to meet hers, a soft look in his eye.”Me too” she said with a sad smile, tangling her fingers in his fluffy locks.

He sighed with contentment “You think it’ll be one of us that wins?” He asked. “I hope so” she replied “or that little girl from 8 maybe” she smiled softly and he let out a small chuckle at her optimism. “That’s a sweet thought” he commented, but they both knew the sickening truth deep down.

“I hope it's quick when I go, nothing too painful or drawn out y'know?” she said, setting her book down next to her and focusing both hands in his hair. He nodded, making a sound of agreement “yeah an arrow to the temple would be my first choice.” he said sarcastically. she laughed with a breath through her nose. “Maybe just step off the platform early?” she joked. He offered a small smile, “you and I both know i'll protect you as long as I can sugar” he said looking into her eyes again. “Why though?” she asked, still confused by his fascination with her. He reached a hand up, moving a piece of her hair. “Because you've always been kind to me, even when I didn't deserve it.” He said softly.

“You've always deserved it” she said truthfully, confused by his statement. He simply shook his head, “when I started at the academy I turned into a real jerk for a while, I ignored anyone who didn't offer me some advantage for years but you always just smiled and said hello like normal.” He said with a guilty look on his face. She only laughed softly again, “I just assumed you were busy, and we drifted apart. You were 10 years old, I never thought you were being a jerk.” she smiled, her fingers massaging his scalp.

“And that's why I’ll protect you” he nodded “because after all of that you never stopped being my friend.” The statement made her want to melt, he really was such a softie. She nudged him to sit up and he did, looking at her with a questioning expression. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. ‘Thanks,” she whispered “it's nice to have a friend.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head into the crook of her neck, “You smell like summertime.” he said softly and she giggled, “They have peach soap in my shower” she explained. He made a noise of contentment and continued to hug her, “can we stay like this? Just for a minute?” he asked. She simply nodded her head, weaving her fingers through his hair once more. His love language was definitely physical touch, it was just yet another thing she found endearing about him. Her eyes closed and she rested her head atop his, he was so warm and her mind felt fuzzy and relaxed.

After what felt like a few seconds she felt knuckles running over her cheek gently, her eyes opened groggily and she looked around a bit disoriented. Finch held her in his arms, “time to wake up sugar.” he murmured, that slight drawl in his words. “Hmm” she nodded, sitting up and taking her head off his chest. Their mentors and stylists sat on a few couches around them, “welcome back sleeping beauty” , Brutus commented, motioning to the screen in front of them. “It's time for training scores, then dinner ok?” enobaria said, motioning the young women to come sit by her.

Y/N nodded and moved away from Finch to sit by her mentor, sitting straight on the couch and watching Caesar Flickerman prance around the stage she herself would soon be on.”Good evening Panem! Happy Hunger games!” the excitable host began. The crowd cheered for him and he smiled with too white teeth, his hair and eyebrows a shade of pink that resembled plum blossoms. “Why don't we get started with district 1? What do you think?” he asked the crowd, walking over to a desk on the stage. He picked up a stack of cards as he sat and smiled at the crowd once more.

“First on our list, Ammo Montgomery from District 1.” he read off the card, pausing afterwards for dramatic effect. “A score of 10” He grinned as the crowd went wild. “And his counterpart Dutchess Astor, with a score of 9” he continued. The crowd screamed just as they had at the parade, loud and much too heavy on the dramatics. Fans of the tributes from district 1 fanned themselves like they wanted to faint and a few dedicated Actors even pretended to tear up.

Caesar grinned and moved to the next card in the stack “Next is a couple that needs no introduction, our tributes from district 2.” He spoke eyes darting up to the camera. Y/N grabbed Enobaria's hand, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous, Enobaria looked surprised but held her tribute’s hand tightly. “Finch Glenn also with a score of 10” Caesar announced “strong competition from the career districts this year” he commented, wiggling his eyebrows. Furisha let out a small happy shriek at the words, putting a hand on Finch's shoulder and shaking him lightly. Brutus gave a nod of approval and his stylist Hebe gave him a side hug.

“And his lovely counterpart Miss Y/N L/N with a score of 7” The words sent a shiver down her spine and she looked to her mentors. “That's good’ we can work with that” Enobaria assured and Furisha clapped for them. “Oh I am so proud of you both!” she cheered, a genuine smile on her face.Y/N felt happy to at least get an average score, nothing that could put a target on her back. Finch would definitely need to be wary of the other tributes with a high score like that.

The other tributes in the lineup received scores similar to hers, most were given a range of 6 to 8, with the small boy from district 9 receiving a 5 and the girl from 8 getting the same. Her shoulders relaxed a bit when she realized she had done a perfect job at blending into the crowd with her skills. She wondered a bit about the skills others had displayed but was distracted quickly with the smell of food. Finch took her hand once more as they walked to the dining table, sitting next to her and smiling. “I'm really proud of you” he grinned, scooping some food oto his plate. “I'm proud of you too” she replied and he gave her hand a light squeeze before letting go.

Dinner that evening was a Braised chicken dish with grapes and fennel, served on a bed of rice. The sweet cooked grapes melted in her mouth and the wine demi glaze was syrupy and decadent. Dinner was full of high spirits and jokes that somehow got even Aerith to chuckle a bit. In the midst of the chaos and looming thoughts of death, she felt a tiny glimpse of hope.

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 1: The Reaping

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader 

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 4.6K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

What little shred of hope for survival you may have had, after hearing your name announced from the reaping, was immediately squashed minutes later by two simple words. “I volunteer”.

Volunteers from District 4 were not uncommon. There was a not-so-secret training complex the capitol turned a blind eye to, in a warehouse near the docks. During your time in school you knew of several kids who trained before and after classes. At the age of twelve some of them dropped out all together, with the sole purpose of training every waking second of the day so they could volunteer at eighteen. There was no need for an education if your only purpose in life was to compete in a death match that offered a lifetime of rewards to the winner.

After the misfortune of having your name drawn you looked around, silently begging for one of the girls to come up and replace you, only for no takers. But when Kim Namjoon eagerly announced his intentions of volunteering (the reaped twelve-year-old boy on stage immediately bursting into grateful tears and rushing back to his mother in the square) it was easy to understand why no one had stepped up this year. Back when you had attended school, before dropping out to assist your father on his fishing boat after your mother died, Namjoon had been in some of your classes –although he very rarely showed up. He was immensely popular with everyone; in part because of his handsome physique and model like dimples, partially because of his superior intelligence, but mostly because it was well known he was by far the leader from all the kids in training.

You had never attended a training session (more fool you for thinking you would never be unlucky enough to have your name drawn, and banking on one of the girls who did train to take your place if you did) but the center near the wharf was close to where your family’s boat — that functioned as both a fishing ship and your house — was docked. During the many occasions you had walked past, you sometimes stopped to peer through a crack in the doorway and watch. A majority of the times you had seen Namjoon inside amongst the group of around twenty regulars; working out with weights, sparring with an array of weapons, or climbing the rope attached to the ceiling that was surely 30 feet high with nothing but cement to drop back down to. The years of work had turned the dimpled twelve-year-old you once shared a math class with into a lethal killing machine. And now you were going to be stuck in an arena with you as one of his targets.

You stood frozen as Namjoon strode up on stage, a grin on his face, waving to the camera before shaking the hand of the capitol’s representative — a pastel blue haired woman by the name of Periwinkle Eveweather. You could tell Periwinkle much preferred Namjoon to you from the twinkle in her eye at how well he was playing up to the camera. There would be no need for her to have to force him to act like being slaughtered like an animal was an honor, like she would for you. The next moments passed far too quickly in a blur, being lead off stage to bid farewell to your families. As you sobbed in your father’s arms, an only child saying your last goodbye, Namjoon was getting a pat on the back from his older sister, a previous volunteer and victor. Shortly after you were ushered on board to the train where you now sat, Namjoon at your side and your mentor sitting across the table.

A small part of your brain found it difficult to take Finnick Odair as a mentor seriously given he was younger than you. But your rational side was quick to silence that judgment with a reminder that exact dismissal of his age was a major contributing factor to his win three years ago. The feeling of despair ate away at your insides as Finnick took an immediate liking to Namjoon. You couldn’t blame him for it, Namjoon was by far the more likely of the two of you to survive, so it only made sense for him to put more attention on the candidate with the best chance, but it still made you feel awful none the less.

“And what about you YN?”

You jumped feeling Namjoon’s hand tapping your leg softly under the table, his head wordlessly nodding in Finnick’s direction without making any eye contact to you. You had become so distracted by the mug of tea in a decorative porcelain cup in your hands, you failed to recognize your mentor’s piercing sea green eyes were now focused on you.

“Sorry, what about my what?” you mumbled dumbly, feeling incredibly insecure at Finnick’s sigh.

“Your skills, what do you bring to the games?”

Well that explained why you had tuned out, there was no need for you to listen to Namjoon describing all the potential ways he was going to kill you within a week or so. And there were a hell of a lot of ways.

“I don’t know really, I’m not someone who’s trained like Namjoon,” you paused to think, pretending not to notice Namjoon’s smug smirk in the corner of your peripheral vision as Finnick frowned slightly.

“Neither was I, and that caused a lot of the careers to underestimate me,” Finnick replied, shooting Namjoon a pointed look which caused his smirk to disappear. You tried not to smile at that, settling instead for relaxing slightly into your seat.

“I can fish, so depending on the arena I can potentially find food, but more importantly I know my way around with a knife,” you declared, feeling a little more confident. The hopeless despair was still overwhelming but the least you could do for yourself, and your father, was to go out with honor.

“Very good,” Finnick nodded “don’t underestimate your face either.”

“My face?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How am I supposed to kill anyone with that?”

Finnick sighed, leaning further back into the lounge he was occupying on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose on his handsome face in exasperation.

“Both of you listen, this is potentially more important than all of those little training sessions or fishing catches the both of you have ever made combined. You’re clearly genetically blessed to continue District 4’s reputation of having the most beautiful tributes, you in particular” He paused to lazily point in your direction. “If you actually want to win the games, you want the people of the capitol to adore you. And they’re a city of shallow cunts,” another pause to shoot a charming smile in Periwinkle’s direction “no offense”.

“Offense taken!” Periwinkle gasped indignantly but Finnick was already speaking over her without a care.

“And as shallow cunts what these people love, more than anything in their pathetic little vapid lives, is beauty. You,” a point to Namjoon, “have been training your whole life for this and will have a body to represent that. Show it off. They love flair, they love confidence, they love a show. Flex those biceps for them, they’ll go mad. Flash your abs and they’ll fall in love. And work those dimples, cause these suckers sure worked for me, got me a trident,” Finnick grinned to show off his smile and twin indents on each corner of his mouth, Namjoon mirrored the gesture and you felt your heart clench at how easily he seemed to turn on his charm. Tall, well built and handsome, he was just as gorgeous as Finnick. Too bad he was very likely about to be the literal death of you.

“And you,” Finnick turned his attention to your direction and you felt Namjoon’s eyes burning into you from the side “you’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, possibly in the history of the games”

Your face flushed at the comment, even though you knew it wasn’t intended as a compliment. There was no point in sweet little lies to butter you up and the fact of the matter was you knew you had an aesthetically pleasing face. Your facial features were in perfect balance, skin clear, thick hair that fell to the middle of your back and eyes that you had been told sparkled like stars in the night.

“They’ll love that shit,” his finger lazily circled around pointing to your cheeks that were flushed in embarrassment at his candid assessment of your appearance.

“These people are so used to artificial, that something so beautiful and pure will be coveted like the fattest diamond they could possibly hang from their necks. You ever fucked a guy, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” you balked at the invasive question, earning a sharp laugh out of Namjoon, a scandalized shriek from Periwinkle, and an eye roll from Finnick.

“I’ll take that for a yes and don’t worry I’m not interested. The capitol thrives on corruption, greed, and a need to claim rare treasures for their own. Put an innocent little dove like you, with a face like yours, in front of them and they’ll go insane. Act right at the parade and in your interviews and you’ll have sponsors gifting you everything you could ever need in that arena”.

You sat wide eyed not even knowing how to respond. You didn’t bother with arguing over the status of your supposed virginity because whether it was true or not didn’t actually matter, it was all about the perception. If getting dolled up and fluttering your eyelashes could potentially result in a knife being dropped from the sky in the arena, you could suck it up and give these disgusting people what they wanted.

X

The train ride to the capitol took just under three days in total. During that time Finnick and Namjoon spent a lot of time together, which you weren’t surprised with in the least. It was only natural to favor the tribute with the better odds, as much as Finnick’s little speech on the first day tried to make you think you could have a chance. Finnick still made some time for you though, which was mostly spent on guiding you how to attract sponsors. You spent a majority of the time in your room, a lot of it crying, most of it sleeping, and some of it playing around with technologies you had never had access to before in your life. The only time you really saw Namjoon was during breakfast and dinner where you ate together with Finnick to discuss district strategy. You weren’t surprised at all by Namjoon’s plan to join the career pack, but you were slightly surprised when he spoke of you as a part of that plan. You were a little annoyed he didn’t even think to ask your opinion, but logically speaking it’s not like you had any option. It was either join them or make yourself an easy target. Plus, any alliance with Namjoon reduced your need to have kill any other tributes personally. The only thing now was to hope districts 1 and 2 were as receptive to the idea as you were.

When you arrived at the capitol you were immediately ushered into a clinic that was like a fusion between a spa and a hospital. You were stripped, examined, and assessed by a doctor before being dressed in a paper thin hospital gown. After a painful injection (“that’s your tracker dear, so the capitol can monitor you in the arena”) you were passed over to the beauty department who scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed, showered, moisturized, treated, conditioned and polished your entire body from head to toe. But at the end when you were standing before a mirror, you could see the results were worth it.

As Finnick had stated, you were already beautiful to start with, but it was like taking an uncut gem and polishing the stone to make it shine. Your hair was a couple of inches shorter with all the damage from years of saltwater being trimmed off. A treatment of conditioners you couldn’t care to remember had tamed your thick locks into smooth waves that had been layered to frame your face and flow prettily down your back. Whatever impurities that existed on your skin before had been entirely lasered away, and your whole complexion was now soft and glowing. Your eyebrows had been plucked into identical manicured arches and some sort of needled gun had permanently filled them in. A gel had been applied to your lips to boost their plumpness, without overly inflating them or drastically changing their shape, giving your mouth a cherubic quality. Staring at your reflection you raised a perfectly manicured finger to poke at your cheek, feeling the new silky smoothness beneath your fingertip, watching as your mirror image copied the action. It was surreal. You recognized the person in front of you as yourself, all of your features were still the same, but just somehow perfected?

You mostly ignored the gushing of your newly assigned stylist team — a set of triplets named Ruby, Garnet and Quartz — as they picked out garments, stretched measuring tape across and around your body and argued over what colors would bring out your eyes the best. They were sweet and well meaning with their compliments, but the growing nerves over being prepped for the chariot parade in a few hours made you unreceptive.

The concept they eventually decided on for your fishing district was ‘Rulers of the Sea’ and you were dressed in a Grecian inspired gown. The iridescent blue and green material, that sparkled like the sun reflecting off the ocean, was clasped at the top of your left shoulder with a silver broach in the shape of a starfish. Intricate embroidery was patterned around around the waist where the fabric was cinched tightly to create an overly enhanced hourglass silhouette. The bottom half flowed to your sandal clad feet and seemed to sway with the slightest of moments, a split on the right ran to the middle part of your thigh. Your eyes were a smoky combination of the colors from your dress, lashes coated in extensions and a layer of mascara to give you a seductive yet doe eyed appearance. There was a strange dichotomy in your styling where they were attempting to preserve your ‘natural’ and ‘innocent’ traits whilst simultaneously taking full advantage of the fact you were eighteen in order to market sex appeal.

Your favorite part (that you hated to admit even liking given the circumstance you were even in) was your hair. A section from each side had been pulled away and pinned at the back in a princess style, with numerous tiny clips of glowing sea shells and starfish holding it in place. Glittery extensions had been clipped in tastefully creating an appearance as if your hair was literally shining. This was then finished off by an ornate tiara placed on the top of your head.

By the time you were finished your stylists were practically in tears, fawning over you and calling you’re their greatest masterpiece. They mistook your eyes watering as pride in their work and not disgust at their pride in dressing a cow off before sending it to the slaughterhouse.

“No dear, you can’t cry and ruin all that make up we just spent so much time perfecting” Ruby chided, dabbing at your eyes with a tissue as Quartz and Garnet guided you out the door and into the small vehicle which was about to take you from the clinic to the parade. You didn’t dignify her with a response, merely grabbing the tissue from her hand as you were forced into the car. As soon as you were inside the car sped off, arriving at the destination very shortly after. From behind your tinted windows you could see horses being lead to empty chariots and your first sight of the other tributes, the people you were either going to have to kill or be killed by.

When the car stopped, Finnick was the one to open your door and offer you a hand to get out, which you accepted. As you stood up he appraisingly ran his eyes over all the details of your make-over, before nodding his approval.

“They did well,” he stated and you nodded your head in passive agreement as he dropped your hand to press his to the small of your back and guide you towards your chariot. Namjoon was already there, dressed in his own Grecian toga of the same fabric with a crown on the top of his newly styled hair. Sensing your arrival, he turned to look at you. Namjoon’s eyes widened comically before quickly composing his features almost as instantly as he had reacted. “Very well,” Finnick whispered, and you allowed an amused puff of air out.

“Your chariot awaits my dear,” Finnick said with a mock bow as he nudged you towards Namjoon, who extended his arm for you to hold on to. Not sure what else to do, you placed your hand delicately on his forearm, his other hand then coming to rest over the top. For a brief moment as Namjoon guided you both into the chariot, you could almost imagine you were a princess being taken to a ball by a handsome prince, but any such delusions were ruined by what Namjoon whispered next.

“It’s such a shame there can only be one winner, you really look good by my side.”

Your jaw clenched and you moved to rip your hand off his arm but his grip over yours instantly tightened with a laugh, as if expecting that exact reaction.

“Calm down princess, I don’t plan on killing your pretty little face for a while yet.”

You looked up at him like he was insane as the chariot began to move forward. He thought your reaction was from fear he was going to kill you now? And not that he perceived your life as only having value from being pretty enough for him? You were furious and about to rip into him before you heard the approaching roar of the crowd ahead at the end of the tunnel. Namjoon was oblivious to your rage, a perfectly poised smile, flexing his dimples that Finnick would be proud of, already painted on his face. You paused, for all you knew that could be an attempt to psych you out before facing the crowds, potentially losing you sponsor opportunities. Turning away from Namjoon, you took a deep breath to try and compose yourself. You plastered the docile soft-smiled wide eyed expression on your face that you had practiced with Finnick on the train, as your carriage emerged form the tunnel and onto the road lined with screaming spectators.

The entire parade was a blur of flashing lights, fireworks, thunderous cheering and echoes from the microphone that distorted whatever message the president greeted you with. By the time your chariot returned to the tunnel your mind was entirely blank but with the satisfied nod from Finnick as he waited to welcome you both back, you knew you had done well.

“If District 2 is anything to go by then you’ve won yourself a lot of admirers tonight” Finnick practically sang as he helped you down. Confused by his words you turned around looking for the other district to see the duo from two, the carriage over from yours. Dressed in gladiator styled garments, that was common from them every year, the girl was fiddling with a ruby dagger (you hoped was just a prop) whilst the boy was staring straight at you. ‘Boy’ was the wrong word to describe him, as he definitely had to have been the same age as you, if anything he looked slightly more mature than the legal age to even be here. He was tall, though not as tall as Namjoon, and lithe. Beneath a decorative breastplate you could see his sun kissed golden skin adorned with the toned definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. His face was incredibly handsome, by far the most handsome of any of the male tributes. Rich copper hair had been styled to frame his aristocratic features; a high bridged pointed nose, high cheekbones, sharp jawline and rich dark chocolate brown eyes that were intently focused on you.

“Speaking to other tributes before training is technically not allowed, but it’s enforced the same way as your training centers are, so not at all. You’ve got five minutes until those cars arrive to take you to the living quarters, go talk to the careers and work out an alliance,” You broke the eye contact to look at Finnick as he spoke, clearly having witnessed your little interaction.

Namjoon took the lead, confidently stepping off the carriage with a winning smile and striding towards the pair from two. With a sigh you hitched up the long material of your dress and followed behind him. You could still feel the male’s eyes burning into your skull as you looked across to notice the pair from District 1 also making their way over — their own mentor likely having given them the same advice as your own.

“I’m Namjoon and this is YN,” you weren’t particularly pleased by Namjoon deciding to speak on your behalf, but chose to roll your eyes behind him rather than interrupting. “We’re interested in continuing a long standing tradition of successful career pack alliances. I assume from you joining us over here, that you are as well.”

“I would typically say that to assume only makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but in this instance you are correct,” the other male from District 1 spoke. You tried to stifle a laugh, but the warning glare Namjoon shot you from the corner of his eye told you that it wasn’t successful. You merely smiled back and blinked innocently with a shrug.

“My name’s Yoongi, and an alliance would be in all of our best interests.” He was shorter than Namjoon and District 2, only an inch or two taller than yourself, but somehow still just as intimidating. His pale skin was contrasted by pitch black hair and sharp coal like eyes that were openly assessing the group of you.

“Krystal,” his district mate offered by means of introduction, and you wondered if the two were siblings. She shared his light complexion, dark eyes and her sleek midnight hair was dead straight down past her waist. Both were dressed in black, their outfits embodying the luxury their district was known for; Yoongi in a tailored suit with subtle embroidery detail, Krystal in an elegant fitted gown made of the same fabric, both topped off with luxurious fur capes draped over their shoulders.

“I’m Athena and he’s Hoseok,” the girl from two spoke. She appeared to be the same height as Yoongi but you noticed a heel on her sandals giving her an extra few inches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look across to Hoseok, knowing his gaze still hadn’t broken since staring at you from the carriage.

“Is that real?” you asked, gesturing towards the dagger Athena had been playing with before that was now held limply in her right hand.

“Why don’t we find out,” she replied with a smirk, instantly flipping the dagger in her hands to point the tip between your eyes.

“Athena!” Hoseok hissed dangerously, slapping the dagger from her hands and cause it to fall onto the ground below. The lack of metallic ‘clang’ revealing it as fake.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” Athena snapped back, reaching down to pick it back up, whilst shaking her head in annoyance. Before you could assure her it was fine, Hoseok stepped forward to present you with his own version of the prop. Reaching out he grabbed your wrist to place the ‘dagger’ in your hand.

“See, the material is just a type of fiber that gives the illusion of metal, but is really not hard at all.” Gently he ran the blade along your palm, and true to his word there was no edge at all. But the image still looked real and seeing a blade dancing across your skin, knowing someone was going to try to kill you with a real one very soon, made you feel ill. Sensing your discomfort from the trembling hand, Hoseok immediately pocketed the knife, but still maintained his hold on your wrist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he spoke softly and you frantically looked to the others to see if they could hear him. Namjoon who was the closest merely looked amused, Athena was showing Yoongi the fake dagger, whilst Krystal had her eyebrow raised in your direction.

“I hope not,” you awkwardly tried to joke, pulling your wrist slightly to subtly try and break the hold, but he only tightened his grip forcing you to look up and back into his eyes again. His gaze from a distance had already been intense but up close it was heart stopping. There was a passion in his eyes you had never seen before in your life and it was solely focused entirely on you. It was frightening, you couldn’t imagine what you had possibly done to warrant being on the receiving end of something so intense. You tilted your head down and away from the others, humiliated over being so easily intimidated. If an attractive man holding your wrist and making eye contact with you was all it took to fluster you, you may as well just sign your own death certificate now.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, dropping your wrist to place his finger on your chin and raise your head back upwards, though you kept your eyes lowered, staring at his jawline to avoid direct eye contact again.

“I’m promise I won’t hurt you, love. Not now, not ever.”

You were about to ask him how he could possibly say something like that given you were about to become direct competitors in a battle to the death, when a sharp whistle stole your attention. Snapping your head to the side you saw Finnick jerk his head, indicating for you and Namjoon to return. You exhaled in relief, grateful for the reprieve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Namjoon said to the group, moving next to you and causing Hoseok to pull his hand away. You nodded to show your agreement with Namjoon whilst making eye contact with the other three you barely had a chance to speak to. You hoped they didn’t think that you were somehow forming something just with Hoseok based on his actions. You were going to need all the help you possibly could get if you wanted a chance to survive.

“Tomorrow,” Krystal agreed, making proper eye contact with you for the first time. She was smaller in height than you, thinner too, but somehow carried a cold and intimidating aura. You offered her a polite smile in return and a nod, relieved when she nodded back, before you returned to Finnick with Namjoon.

“How did it go? Looked pretty good” Finnick asked just as the capitol vehicle pulled up to take you to the tribute quarters.

“It seems our little dove here won’t just have the capitol for an admirer,” Namjoon smirked, getting into the car.

“So I saw,” Finnick muttered as a reply to Namjoon’s back, then turned to face you.

“Don’t let him psych you out,” he said, stepping aside so you could follow Namjoon into the vehicle.

You glanced at Namjoon before turning back to see Hoseok standing by his car but staring directly at you again. His eyes were still radiating the same intense passion from moments ago, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Who?” you whispered back to Finnick, ducking your head as you stepped inside. Finnick moved to shut the door.

“Both of them”

This is basically an introductory chapter to gauge reception. Future updates should be longer. I have the whole fic plotted and the outline itself is 5.9K words and this chapter was only based on the first paragraph. The next update will focus on the training sessions/interview with Caesar and the update after should be the one where they actually enter the arena.

Feedback is much loved, but please avoid asking for updates. I don’t have a schedule but I do have crippling depression so I write when the motivation hits lol

[ilguna]

Hey! Can I get the number 89 (in honour of 1989 tv) with finnick ?

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, death, gore for sure, blood, weapon usage, mention of prostitution.

wc; 8.6k

prompt; 86. "Do you trust her?" // "No, but I trust her anger."

notes; i already did 89 for Peeta (castaway) and i'm trying not to do any repeats, so we're going with 86 :)

--

The golden Cornucopia sits abandoned in the middle of this black sand island, whereas normally it’s occupied by the Careers to ensure that no intruders steal from them. There must not be anything worth protecting in here, then, besides the weapons that are displayed.

This allows the group to spread out, picking places to rest in the shade. Peeta lowers Beetee to the ground, propping him up against a box. He backs off, going to stand next to Katniss.

Beetee calls out to Wiress, making her go over to him. She crouches down, hands on her knees, waiting. In her limited state of mind, you’re fairly surprised that she’s still comprehending people, much less requests. He holds up his coil of wire, she takes it. “Clean it, will you?” 

Wiress nods, wordlessly getting to her feet and going to sit on the edge of the island to clean the spool of blood. She dunks it in the water, occasionally using her fingers to rub a particularly hard spot. While she does this, she begins to sing, no longer repeating the words ‘tick tock’.

It must be some sort of nursery rhyme from District Three, because you don’t recognize it. It’s about a mouse running up and down a clock, which is fairly appropriate, given the recent discovery, thanks to her.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna says, rolling her brown eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

Wiress stops suddenly, getting to her feet, posture rigid as she points to the jungle and says, “Two.”

The rest of you watch as a white wave of fog begins to seep onto the beach. From here, it doesn't seem so threatening. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it, if you hadn’t run for your life from it early this morning. While it melted your jumpsuit and poisoned your skin, causing you to strip to your under clothes and for your body to be covered in scabs from where it touched you.

You’d rather fight the orange monkey muttations a hundred times than risk doing that again.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“LIke clockwork.” Peeta agrees. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

Wiress smiles, and then kneels in the sand to continue singing and dunking the coil in water. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says from beside you. Your eyes slide over to him. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” She says.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna scoffs.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss ends that line of conversation, turning to go inside of the Cornucopia.

Johanna goes in after her to poke around in the weapons, since she’s been empty handed the entire time. Funny how Beetee was able to make it to the Cornucopia before she did, even if it ended up getting him hurt because of it.

You briefly glance at Finnick from where you were watching Johanna, and you have to do a double-take when you realize that he’s staring at you. He looks you over, up and down, which would be flattering, if you didn’t know that he was assessing your demeanor, deciding if you were a threat.

You squint at him, face twisting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tells you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re looking at me like that.” You snap. “Leave me alone.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything back. You’re getting tired of him thinking that you’re going to betray the alliance. You’re in this as much as he is, you volunteered to be here. If anything, he should be a little grateful that he got a district partner that’s invested and capable.

He doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that you’re just as bad as Enobaria and Brutus—that you’re itching to get back into an arena to kill for some spotlight. And you know this, because he told you himself on the train. Once you were out of sight of the cameras, he tried to lay you out in front of Mags and the escort, and you shut him down.

You know he disagrees with the way you choose to handle situations, but to think that you would get in the way of a rebellion was a slap to the face. You made sure he knew that later on, when you were out of earshot of the Peacekeepers. If he wanted to think of you so lowly, fine. The line is drawn when he begins to implant those ideas in other people’s heads, too. Especially since you’ve done nothing to deserve it.

It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he tried to block you from being invited into the alliance by telling Haymitch that you could fuck the whole plan if your mood changes. He said all it would take is one disagreement, one thing not going the way you wanted, one wrong look, and you’d make sure that everyone else would be brought down by it.

Thankfully, Haymitch knows better than to just take Finnick’s word for it. He might be a drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention for the past ten years. He knows that you and Finnick have a history of not getting along. If anything, you’ll sabotage Finnick more than you will the alliance as a whole.

Which is why he told you that you have a place in it, if you want. And while everyone else places stepping stones to make sure that the plan to get rescued is in place. You were told that you have two jobs; the first one being protecting Katniss and Peeta, a task that you were already prepared to risk your life for. As for the second one—if anything were to go wrong, if someone unexpected were to get killed, you’ll replace their shoes, and get Katniss and Peeta to the end of the day at all costs.

This is why you’ve been on edge. If Finnick would see past his hatred for you, and thought about it, he’d realize that you’re trying to make sure that Katniss and Peeta are in good positions. You are not the threat here.

Johanna lets out a grunt, you turn your head in time to watch as she throws an axe through the air, straight at the Cornucopia. It hits the sun-softened gold with a gentle thud, and it sticks. She crosses the area, pulling it out by the handle, making a face at the blade.

Katniss is digging through the weapons, probably looking for more arrows to add to her collection, because two sheaths aren’t enough. When she finds one, she swings it over her back and comes out to stand over Peeta, who’s drawing a map of the arena onto a large leaf that he brought from the jungle. He slices the circle, creating twelve equal wedges.

“Look how the Cornucopia is positioned.” He says, looking up at her.

Her eyebrows draw in, and she turns around to take a look at the building she just came out of. “The tail points to twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, numbering the wedges one through twelve. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He proceeds to write lightning in the wedge, and then goes clockwise, adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the next sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” She says, he writes it down. 

Finnick comes over with Johanna, the two of them have upped the weapon count on their bodies. And he thinks you’re the dangerous one, as if you don’t have a sword and a couple knives on you. Does he really need two tridents and half a dozen knives? It makes him look…

Hot, a voice whispers from the depth of your mind, It makes him look hot.

He’s standing in a patch of sun, where the Cornucopia doesn’t quite reach. The sunbeams baking his already tanned skin. His eyes are a brighter shade of sea green, with the light being in his eyes. He looks like he belongs at the bottom of the ocean, commanding the creatures that dwell in it.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he flickers over to yours. You stare for a second longer, before blinking and looking away, back at the map that’s being drawn. 

It’s a shame that Finnick decided years back that he would rather keep you at a distance instead of making a friend out of you. The two of you are so similar that it hurts at times, but all he can see are the differences, which hurts more.

The both of you won at young ages, with him setting the record, while you won at fifteen. He had an advantage in his Games, though, because the sponsors were drawn in by his good looks for being someone so young. This meant that he had everything he could have ever asked for gifted to him in the arena.

On the other hand, you didn’t make much of an impression during your reaping or the Tribute Parade, forcing you to change the strategy that you’d been given by Finnick and Mags. They wanted you to keep your head down, but if you wanted even a sliver of a chance, you needed to make your name big.

So, that’s exactly what you did. And that’s where the resentment he has for you, started. You showed off absolutely all your skills in the Training Center, making sure the Gamemakers knew you had potential, getting you a score of nine. During your interviews, you told Caesar that there wasn’t a single hurdle you wouldn’t jump to get home.

That statement was put to the test in the arena, when you killed several tributes, including your own district partner, because you knew it put you one step closer to getting out. You didn’t care what bridges you had to burn, how many sponsors you had to lose, or if you lost the support of your mentors. Nothing could stop you, and it didn’t.

Finnick hates that you had no remorse when you got out of the arena. Or now, because you told him that this is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, because between life and death, you choose life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact you’re so cold. How could the two of you be from the same district?

The similarities came back into play when you turned sixteen, when the Capitol realized that they do care about you. Which changed your title from victor to Capitol darling. You were told to join Finnick and be a prostitute, or President Snow would kill your family. 

This is where you screwed up, believing him to be bluffing. You didn’t think he would actually do it, but he’s a man of his word. When you were done listening to the screams and pleas of your parents to spare your siblings, Snow told you that if you didn’t agree, Finnick’s family would be next.

You had no choice, you had to agree. And when Finnick found out that you landed right where he was, there wasn’t a single shred of empathy he had toward you. Not even after you returned to District Four, and he learned that your family had been murdered in your home. The one you’d be forced to stay in for an additional two weeks while they got your victor house ready.

If you weren’t indifferent to his existence before, you sure as hell were then.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, referring to the wedges. 

“Only blood.” Johanna says, Beetee nods.

“I guess they could hold anything.” Katniss looks down at Peeta.

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Wiress, since she’s gone quiet. Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, knife sliding across the skin on her throat. It’s too late to save her, you know this when the blood begins to come down her neck like a waterfall.

The knife on your belt is in your hand and flying through the air in the matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. This kills him instantly.

A movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next, but Johanna’s on it. She buries her axe in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her.

Three cannons blast, back to back.

Finnick swings his trident upward, deflecting a spear that had been aiming for Peeta, thrown by Brutus. Finnick goes to twist his body to take the knife that Enobaria throws at Beetee, but he misses by an inch. It’s too late for you to save Beetee, as the knife shatters the lens on the right side, and the blade buries itself in his eye socket.

Fuck.

Another cannon blasts.

You shove Finnick out of the way to chase after Enobaria and Brutus, who are making their escape around the backside of the Cornucopia. They’ve successfully killed two of your most important allies, and they don’t even realize it.

The two Careers are running down one of the sand strips to the beach. You manage to throw one more knife at Brutus before he’s out of range. It slams into his right calf, taking him down. He lands on his hands and knees, which is exactly what you were hoping for.

Right as you’re about to step onto the strip, the ground beneath you jerks, throwing you down. The center island of the Cornucopia begins to spin, fast. You press your sword between your body and the ground, digging your fingers into the grooves to hold on. 

It’s only thirty seconds later when it slams to a stop without warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking measured breaths to calm the growing annoyance in your chest. The Gamemakers knew you would kill Brutus, and later Enobaria, if you caught up with her. That’s why they had to intervene, otherwise the fun of the Games would be gone.

You slam your fist against the rock, pushing yourself to your knees. You lean back on your heels slightly, face to the sun while you collect yourself. With Wiress and Beetee being gone, this is a very large hiccup that you’re going to have to smooth out. You jinxed yourself, didn’t you?

A sigh leaves you as you get to your feet, swinging the sword into your hand. As you round the corner, you can see that everyone else is upright. Finnick looks over at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for good news, because you were the closest to the Two tributes.

“Brutus is injured. I would’ve had him if the fuckin’ Gamemakers had minded their own business.” You stab the tip of the sword into a patch of sand.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks, looking around the group.

“He’s dead.” You tell her.

She meets your eyes, “What happened?”

“I—” Finnick starts.

“I didn’t block the knife in time.” You talk over him. “Enobaria’s got a strong arm, it went right through his glasses.”

You can see Finnick staring at you from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips, tasting the salt of the water, before pressing them together. When you look at him, the two of you stare for a long second.

You, Johanna and Finnick know what this means. If just one of the Three tributes had been killed, you could’ve used the other. With both of them being gone, it means that someone needs to pick up their job, and you were the one that was elected to do just that.

“What now?” Finnick asks you.

You tilt your head, eyes going out to the water, finding two of the four bodies. It’s got to be Wiress and Gloss, because they’d been right next to each other when they died. You lean your sword up against the Cornucopia before wandering forward, to the edge of the island.

Wiress is floating on her back, on her stomach sits the spool of wire, golden and shining in the sunlight. You begin to head down the sand strip closest to her body. “I want the wire.”

“What for?” Johanna asks, “That was his weapon, not yours.”

You look over your shoulder. “It has to be now, doesn’t it?”

Johanna makes a face, but it’s not one of doubt. She knows that you’re right, that’s why she won’t bother to argue. Not that she would, anyway. You and Johanna get along, basically two peas in the same pod. She just likes Finnick more, because he puts up with her bullshit.

You jog as close as you can get to Wiress’s body, before diving in the warm water. It’s a nice break from the sun, even if it is for a minute. It doesn’t take long to get to her body, prying the coil from her fingers. You’re about to swim away, when you hesitate, closing her eyes.

Finnick is waiting for you on the strip when you get back to it. You place the wire on the rock, and he reaches down to help you up. Your face twists, but you take his hand, letting him help. The moment you’re on both feet, he pulls you close, a rough hand on your shoulder as he pulls you close to speak in your ear.

“If you can’t do this, you need to tell me. I’ll figure something else out.” Finnick harshly whispers.

You jerk back, squinting at him. “Worry about yourself.” 

As you stoop to grab the wire, Finnick shakes his head. “I mean it, (Y/n).”

“And so do I.” You tell him, lowering your voice. “There’s a reason why Haymitch trusted me with this, and not you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We’re back to this, huh?”

You scoff loudly. “You’re the one that’s upset by it, Finnick. So, here’s a fucking suggestion: deal with it.” You shake your head. “You’re so worried that I’m going to betray the alliance, that’s you’re forgetting that this is what I do.” You motion to the jungle with your free hand. “Enobaria and Brutus can run all they want, but we both know they’re going to have to come out eventually if they plan on finishing us off. And when they do, they’re going to get it.

“Not from you, not from Johanna, from me.” You seethe, moving around Finnick to head back up to the Cornucopia. You throw your hands up, one of them still holding the wire. “Face it, Finnick, I’ve got this handled.”

You turn around, finding that your three other allies have their eyes on you. You ignore them, watching where you place your feet. On the island, you retrieve your sword, dropping the wire onto a box. Finnick is a few feet behind you, wearing a hard expression.

You hate it when you have to talk to him like that, but you can’t do it any other way if you want him to listen to you. It’s like he doesn’t care unless you’re being hostile, except that tone of voice has him on edge, afraid that you’re going to flip a switch.

There is no happy medium. It’s like he’s dead-set on thinking that you’re an unlikable person. You wouldn’t have minded having an actual conversation between you, Finnick and Johanna to figure out a plan together. It’s his fault that he decided to take the situation into his own hands by assuming that you wouldn’t have the ability to fill Beetee’s shoes.

It makes you mad, so now you’re going to take care of it by yourself. As much as he wants you to ask for help, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you don’t need him. Or the others, for that matter.

“Let’s get off this stinking island.” Johanna says once Finnick has joined the group.

You dig through the weapons in the Cornucopia, looking for a pair of knives that aren’t too short. The only ones that are available are displayed on the wall in the very back. They’re slightly curved, not too heavy. They’ll work just fine.

You watch as Peeta, Finnick and Johanna start in three different directions.

You stand next to Katniss, watching this. When they realize that no one is following them, they stop.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him. “Any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

You tuck the knives in your belt, as you circle the Cornucopia with them to try and find the path that’ll lead to the twelve beach. Only, the jungle is perfectly replicated in every section, down to the last tree. Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s path, but it’s been washed away.

Katniss stops. “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“For now.” You murmur. “We still have the wave at ten to tell us, we’ll be back on track after that.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s growing impatient, wanting to move. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them decide which strip to take to the beach. Katniss and Peeta begin to lead the way. You grab the wire, motioning for Johanna and Finnick to go next, but they don’t budge. You roll your eyes and duck your head, putting a good distance between you and Peeta before you walk.

“What’s the plan?” Johanna’s voice sounds far, and she’s trying to be quiet, but there’s not enough going on for it to conceal her.

“She says she’ll handle it.” Finnick murmurs, you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“That’s it?” She asks, “It looked like she was yelling at you.”

“She did.” He says. “She told me to worry about myself, and she’ll handle Enobaria and Brutus.”

Johanna doesn’t speak right away. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but I trust her anger.” He tells her. “She’s right, this is what she does best.”

“So, you want to follow behind her?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Finnick shoots back.

“No.” Johanna sighs.

When you get to the jungle, they look inside of it, trying to figure out if there’s anything waiting inside or not. When you can’t see any immediate threats, they relax.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects. “I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking off a large leaf to hand to him. “(Y/n) can stay with us, while she figures out what to do with the wire.”

You drop it in the sand, along with your sword, as you sit down. Peeta crouches beside you, beginning to make his map, again. As you watch him draw the slices, your mind begins to wander. 

Katniss and Peeta are the Careers’ focus. They want to target the ones with the highest scores first, and then work their way down. If they take out a few of you in the process, then that’s great, but they’re afraid of what the Twelve tributes could’ve possibly done in order to get a perfect score.

It was a little odd for Gloss to go for Wiress, if this is the case. And Cashmere wasn’t able to kill anybody before she died. You guess she might have been going for Katniss, but Johanna was in between them, she wasn’t going to make it that far. That’s why Brutus tried to get Peeta with the spear, and maybe the knife was originally aimed for Peeta, not Beetee?

You just can’t wrap your head around their strategy of getting rid of the Three tributes. Were Enobaria and Brutus that worried about you guys coming up with a plan to use the explosives on the tribute platforms? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened in the Games, it’s just a stupid idea to do it in the water, when you have nothing to steady yourself on.

Either way, you need to figure out a way to draw them in. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that they’ll wait until dark to attack again, because they’ll have cover. It’s only the two of them now, which means they won’t attack the five of you all together, they’ll get overpowered in seconds. They’ll wait until you split up.

You play with the wire, twisting it between your fingers while you think.

If they send another twenty-four rolls from District Three tonight, you’ll have no choice but to go into the jungle for the lightning section, because that’s where they’ll be rescuing you out of the arena. You would just say that you should go up to the lightning tree and wait, except you won’t know what time it is until ten, like you said.

When the wave does it, you’ll have two hours to get to the tree. After that, Katniss and Peeta will have to get split up long enough to get the tracker out of their arms. That’ll be the perfect time to kill Enobaria and Brutus, too.

You just need a reason for them to split up. Johanna’s already agreed to getting it out of Katniss’s arm, which left Peeta for Finnick. You need some sort of placebo plan in the meantime, something for them to focus on to keep their minds off of the fact that the situation is going to be very, very suspicious.

“That’s it.” Peeta says, sitting back. “I don’t—”

A scream cuts through the still air, silencing him. You whip around to look back at the jungle, unsure of whether or not it belongs to Katniss. As you get to your feet, sword in your hand, you can hear another voice, shouting back. That one sounds like Katniss.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

You get to your feet before he does, pulling the sword into your hand as you break through the jungle, swinging at any leaves in your way. “I think we chose the wrong section.”

“It’s supposed to be the monkey mutts right now, how can it be anything else?” Peeta asks.

Your face twists as you look over your shoulder, finding that Johanna’s eyes have rolled back as far as she can get them. “Because it’s the next hour?” She snarks.

Peeta doesn’t respond. For a moment, you’re genuinely concerned that the forcefield on the first day might have fried his brain a lot more than you thought. When you begin to think of all the decisions he’s made over these past couple of days, you relax. It’s not really out of his nature to say something stupid once in a while.

You’re about twenty yards into the jungle when you stop suddenly, sword at your side, eyes scanning the trees above. When Johanna and Peeta finally pause, you realize just how quiet it is out here.

Johanna takes a step or two forward, coming to stand next to you, looking up at the tree branches. She covers her eyes with one hand, squinting. “There’s no birds.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” You tell her, your normal voice feels too loud. “There’s not even insects.”

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking at you.

“I feel like it’s too early to be the beast, because the sun was down further yesterday.” 

She nods. “A new hour.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s so quiet.” Peeta says.

“Could be something in the trees.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. “That’s why I don’t want to go further in.”

“But Katniss and Finnick are in there.” Peeta shakes his head. “We have to.”

“Don’t you think they would’ve called for help by now?” You ask, “We heard Katniss say something, but then she stopped.”

“And they can’t be dead because there’s no cannon.” Johanna says after. “What if they’re hurt?”

You look further into the jungle. “It’s a bad idea.”

“We have to try.” Peeta says, starting toward the two of you.

You move in time to let him pass without running into your shoulder. He makes it an additional five yards before he walks smack into a wall, head bouncing off. A little smile fights its way onto your face, and then it vanishes when you realize that this is exactly what happened when he hit the forcefield.

He reaches out, going to touch it. You stride forward, grabbing the back of the neck of his undershirt, yanking him back. “Are you stupid?”

“Wait.” He swats your hand free. “Watch.”

You grab his wrist when he holds his hand out again, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Then do it yourself.” Peeta motions, you let go. “It would’ve blown me back if it was a forcefield. Besides, it’s too far down.”

You look at space in front of you, seemingly fine. The wall that he’d run into isn’t even visible. You take in a breath, holding it, before sticking your hand out in the direction of it.

The palm of your hand vibrates against it, you apply pressure, wondering if it’ll budge if you lean into it, but it doesn’t move. You look down at your sword, pressing your lips together. If this is a forcefield, this will most definitely kill you. Still, you swing the sword into the invisible wall, and you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t explode into sparks upon contact.

“Well…” You trail off, beginning to walk around the wall, keeping one hand on it. No matter where you touch, or how far along you walk, the wall doesn’t stop. You make it into the next section of the jungle, and around the corner, and still feel it there. When you make it back to Johanna and Peeta, you shake your head. “Sealed.”

“They’re inside?” Peeta asks. “Do you think they can hear us?”

“I’m going to say no.” Johanna grunts, swinging her axe into the wall repeatedly. “If we can’t hear the birds,” Her voice is strained, “Then we can’t hear them.” She stops, tossing the axe aside, it lands next to a bush. She sighs, “I guess we’re going to wait out here.”

Peeta doesn’t like this idea, you can tell by the way his face screws up, but he knows you don’t have any other choice. 

“I’m going to grab the wire, then.” You tell her.

“Speaking of it, come up with anything yet?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Almost.” You say, walking away from her.

When you get to the beach and find the wire, you don’t go back into the jungle right away. You stand beneath a patch of shade, staring at the Cornucopia, and the trees beyond it, squinting.

From what you can tell, Enobaria and Brutus aren’t on the beach or in the treeline, which means that they’re in those trees, somewhere. They must be fairly far in, where they’re resting. They likely won’t come out again until they’ve been sponsored and their wounds are healing. And even then, they’ll make sure you’re not on the beach, first.

Or maybe they are able to see you, and you just can’t see them.

If you were in their shoes, you’d be watching your every move right now to figure out what you’re doing. And if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter what you do with this wire, they’ll already know the plan. Really, it would just be an excuse to split Katniss and Peeta.

So, that’s what it’ll be.

The wire could be used for a number of things, you could probably make a trap out of it. There’s enough of it for you to bring it to the tree and back down to the beach, twice. The question is what Beetee would have used it for.

You close your eyes, listening to the waves on the beach, trying to remember how Beetee won his Games. You were talking to Mags about it the other day, she was telling you that it’s been thirty years since he won. Back then, he wasn’t the strongest tribute either, he had to make something to electrocute the last remaining tributes.

He wouldn’t really be able to do that now. He had the sources—the lightning at midnight and the water at the center. In the condition he was in before he got killed, he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip up to the tree, back down to the water, and up again to be out of the way of the electricity. And the chances of the wire being cut by the Careers isn’t that low, even in your situation now.

You’d need someone at the base of the tree, and someone unspooling the wire down to the water…

Your eyes pop open, it takes them a second to adjust to the sudden light. You stare at the water. This is what Beetee was going to do, wasn’t it? The wire acts as a conductor. If you hook it up to the tree at the right time when it strikes, it’ll fry everything in the water.

But what you want is to kill the Careers, in a way. The sand would have to be wet too, or at least damp. Which… Which will be the exact case when the wave hits at ten, and it’ll be cooler out, so the water won’t evaporate as quickly. If you bury the spool in the sand, it should have the entire beach covered and the water.

“Bingo.” You say, grabbing the coil.

You join the others back inside of the jungle, finding Peeta on the floor, forehead pressed to the invisible wall. Johanna’s pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest. When you get closer, you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side, both of them with their hands over their ears.

When a twig snaps beneath your weight, Johanna looks over. She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “What took you so long?”

“Came up with a plan.” You tell her, dropping the wire and your sword next to one of her axes. 

“What plan?” Peeta asks, unmoving.

“On how to kill the remaining Careers.” You wink at Johanna, but it’s not flirtatious.

You know she understands when the crease appears between her eyebrows, giving you a slight nod. “Care to enlighten us?”

“When they’re out, I will. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” You nod at the other two. “What’s going on in there?”

“I think it’s jabberjays.” Johanna says, pointing up at the trees behind the wall. “They’re fifty of them in the trees. Katniss tried killing them, of course it didn’t work.”

Your eyes land on Finnick, finding his muscles rigid. You crouch to get a better look at his face, there’s a streak of red from his nose, down his lips, and off his chin. “What happened to Finnick?”

“He ran face-first into the wall.” Peeta says. “It was a bloody nose.”

You hum, lowering yourself to the ground. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

—

The wall suddenly breaks, Peeta falling forward. He catches himself on his hands, getting to his feet. He doesn’t even say anything, just scoops Katniss into his arms, and walks straight out of the jungle with her, leaving the arrows behind.

You sit up, looking over at Johanna to see that she’s staring at you. She tilts her head, “Do you want to try?”

You take in a breath, “I’ll let you know if it works.”

She nods, following after Katniss and Peeta, because someone needs to be watching over them. You get up, walking a few feet over to Finnick, before crouching down beside him. 

You lift a hand, hovering it over his back for a minute, and then change your mind, placing your elbows on your thighs to lean on them. He’s got his eyes closed, head down. He probably can’t even hear you. You don’t even know how he’ll react to being touched, much less by you.

You press your lips together, heart hurting at the sight of him. It’d be better if Johanna were here, she can talk to him. All you’ll do is upset him more. You grind your teeth, once again wishing that this wasn’t your relationship. As you go to stand up, the hands over his ears loosen, head beginning to lift.

He looks around in the jungle first, making sure the threat is gone. That’s when he notices you beside him, waiting. His eyes are watery, he swallows.

“Hey,” You murmur, “Are you okay?”

He stares at you, eyebrows drawing in.

You nod, “I’ll go get Johanna.”

Once again, you try to get to your feet, when he speaks, “Why?”

“Why… what?” You ask, pausing.

“Why would you get Johanna?” He asks.

You turn your head in the direction of the beach. Is he really going to make you say it? Does he want to see the pain it’ll cause you? Or does he think it’ll come out venomous?

When you look at him, you sigh, “Because I’m not really a comforting person to you, am I?”

He doesn’t answer your question, “Where are they?”

“They’re on the beach.” You tell him. “I figured out a plan that’ll work. I’ll tell you guys when you’re ready.”

“Do Johanna and Peeta know?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No.”

Neither of you move, staring at each other. And while you could stay here forever, you don’t allow yourself. You push on your knees, standing up. You offer your hand to him, but he moves it away, just like you figured he would.

He doesn’t say anything, walking past you to leave. You stare at the scene of dead birds in front of you, before you turn around, collecting yours and Johanna’s belongings, and going to join them on the beach. 

Katniss seems better, she’s talking to Peeta. Johanna is standing over them, she glances at Finnick when he passes by. She has to twist her body to see you standing in the treeline. You hand her the axe.

“It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” Peeta says.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.” 

“Do you believe it, Finnick?” 

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says, looking up at Johanna, ignoring you entirely. “Could they do that? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

Johanna makes a face, looking at you for help. You play with the piece of wire you’d unraveled, “I’m sure Beetee would know.”

“Peeta’s right.” Johanna then says. “The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on her hands.” She deadpans. “Don’t want that, do they?” She scoffs, throwing her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She shakes her head, wandering around the beach to pick up shells. When she finds a good few, she stops next to Finnick, holding her hand out. “I’m getting water.” Finnick drops the spile into her hand, and she begins toward the jungle.

Katniss grabs her hand. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” She says, shaking her hand free. You don’t miss the look she gives Finnick, and then you, as she disappears into the jungle. 

She comes back a couple minutes later with a shell of water, handing it over to Katniss first. She makes trips back and forth, letting each of you have some. She comes out one trip with a pile of arrows that she gives back to Katniss.

Finnick shakes his head, walking to the water. He stops a few feet in, and sits. You let the wire drop to the sand, tired of bringing it wherever you go. You don’t move from where you are, eyes fixated on his back.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks, curious.

Katniss is quiet. You’re expecting her to say Annie, because it makes the most sense, but when you look over, she’s eyeing you, and so is Peeta. 

“What?” You ask. “Was it Annie?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Katniss murmurs. “We thought we heard you.”

A loud laugh comes from you, unwarranted. The thought of Finnick caring about you enough for the Gamemakers to use you against him is funny. Really funny, actually. It must’ve been a walk in the park for him, listening to your pleas. A little gratifying, because he could pretend that you were getting what was coming for you.

But Katniss isn’t laughing, she’s serious. 

The humor leaves your smile, “It must’ve been his mother, that he was mistaken for me.”

“No, because we heard his mom, too. That first scream was yours.” She insists, “And he dropped everything to find you.”

“Finnick would never do that.” You tell her, voice cold. 

She doesn’t press it further, but the look in her eye is enough. She’s not lying to you, she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t gain anything from making something like that up.

You won’t believe it though. This is the same Finnick that told Johanna that he didn’t trust you, an hour and a half ago. There’s nothing that could’ve made him change his feelings in that time span.

Unless it didn’t.

Your eyes narrow at the back of Finnick’s head, hand tightening around your sword. 

A cannon blast keeps you from thinking about the subject any further, but the bubbling in your stomach is only getting hotter. Finnick gets up, coming to join you three, as well as Johanna, materializing out of the jungle. You stand together, watching a hovercraft appear over the next section, claw dipping in several times to retrieve all the pieces of one body. 

The beast.

This sparks Peeta to create another map, this time he’s able to fill in more than half of it. It starts with lightning, rain, and fog. It moves on to monkeys and jabberjays. He has to skip a section, and then writes beast. And the next one you have after six to seven is the wave at ten. This means you’re missing five of the other hours. 

The others begin to come back to life. Finnick begins to weave a water basket and a net to fish for dinner. While Katniss takes a swim and applies more ointment. By the time she’s done, Finnick has worked up a pile, so she sits on the edge of the water, cleaning them for him. 

It doesn’t take long for Katniss’s words to creep back into your mind, refusing to leave it be. Finnick cares about you, a thought that should have you excited, but it makes you uncomfortable. He has spent the last eight years making sure that you know that he hates you and couldn’t care less about what happens to you.

Yet here he is, supposedly dropping everything to save you. Possibly even leaving Katniss behind to do it. The Gamemakers must know something that you don’t, if they knew to use your voice. You want to assume that they thought Finnick was worried solely because you’re his district partner. Except, that doesn’t make sense either, because the two of you are notorious in the Capitol for being a pair of mentors that get into fights about how to handle things.

He has a lot of nerve.

The sun falls below the horizon, the moon rising to replace it in the sky. When they finish cleaning the fish, they bring it over, setting it in the middle of the circle for you to enjoy. The four of them begin to settle in the sand, you don’t move from where you stand.

The anthem begins to play, stopping them from digging in. The Capitol seal lights up the sky, and then it’s replaced by the faces. Cashmere, Gloss, Wiress, Beetee. The woman from Five, the morphling from Six, Blight, and the man from Ten. 

Eight tributes dead.

Strangely, this makes you think of your own Hunger Games. Where you managed to kill four people in the span of two hours, one of those being Rio, who was your district partner. By the end of the Games, you had eight kills under your belt. A third of the competition was taken out by you, a little fifteen year-old.

Once again, a factor that used to make Finnick sick. And now it doesn’t.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says without missing a beat.

The sound of clinking fills the air, you look up to find a parachute coming down, teetering from side to side. It lands perfectly in the middle of the group, unfolding itself to reveal the steaming rolls.

“Do these look like District Three to you?” Finnick looks at Johanna.

“Yeah, look at the imprint.” She says, running her finger over the top of one. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts them, being sure to be thorough. “Twenty-four. How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to laugh.

You pull your sword out of the sand, swinging it up to rest the flat part of the blade on your shoulder. Finnick looks up at you, eyeing your stance. You step away from them, shaking your head.

“Sit down, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you.

“Why, so you can keep an eye on me?” You snap, crossing the treeline. “Come and get me, Finnick.”

You make it a few feet in, before you hear the snapping of branches behind you. You sigh, turning with raised eyebrows to see that Finnick took it as a challenge. You didn’t mean it that way. You didn’t want him to chase you.

“Get out here.” He tells you.

You walk backward, tilting your head at him. “I’m just making sure Enobaria and Brutus aren’t out here.”

“I don’t care.” He’s still walking toward you. “We’ll worry about that when we make camp.”

You stop, letting your sword down from your shoulder. When you look past him, you can see that there’s enough distance between him and the beach. There’s privacy to talk and sort out what you heard.

Your eyes land on him, “Katniss told me something,” You start, watching his eyebrows twitch, “About how you thought I was the one screaming for help.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I thought it was my mom.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” You tell him, “But you said my name, and you dropped everything to go and get me.”

He sets his jaw, “So?”

“So,” The word is bitter, “What changed?”

He laughs, “Nothing, (Y/n). I went—”

“They used loved ones and family.” You cut him off. “You care about me, admit it.”

“I don’t.” He tells you. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You chased after the jabberjays thinking it was me, and you followed me in here because you’re worried that I’ll get caught by the Careers, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening, but whatever it is, it’s not true.” His voice wavers.

This is all the confirmation you need. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” You press your pointer finger to the middle of his chest. “That you’re not bothered by me anymore, and you haven’t been for a while. You’ve done a damn good job of hiding it up until now, but the jabberjays got you good.”

Finnick grabs your wrist, “That’s not true.”

“What changed, Finnick?” You insist.

“Nothing, because I don’t have feelings for you.” He snaps. “The reason why I came in here is because we want to move camp to the ten sector once the wave happens, I just didn’t want you to get lost out here and think we abandoned you, making you think it’s a free-for-all.”

He lets go of your wrist, face screwed tightly, as he leaves you here. You watch him go back to the beach, while you take several breaths, feeling the pit in your stomach grow.

What have you done?

---

this is part of my 3k celebration!!