#sam claflin x you

[reasonsmandy]

You Intrigue Me

Billy Dunne x Fem!Reader

✧.* part two — is there something lost in the sky?

✧.* requested by anon — Hi! If you're still taking requests can you do one for Billy dunne? The reader is a pretty popular well liked girl in the same way Billy was and she's basically the one for Billy but they never really cross paths so she doesn't know he likes her like that, they just stay friends. She's not in the band so she doesn't see them often but when she visits during the tour daisy realises she's who Billy's crazy about. Thanks in advance!

✧.* summary — He made you curious in so many ways and you wanted to know why, it was like looking at yourself in a mirror. It was curious how you mirrored each other and at the same time showed each other a new world.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 4.6k

✧.* 🎤 — Billy Dunne's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I didn't put Camila in this story because I didn't want her to be cheated on or have her heart broken, so we're left without her in this universe :)

There were layers in you that weren't easy to access, not even for you, moments and experiences that shaped your being that were so complex to disentangle that just guide you along the way to where you are. Every passion, frustration and new encounter arising in your being during your life was demonstrated by you to others in only one way: music.

You've always shown everything you felt in music and you knew that's what you wanted to do in life from the beginning, and you followed that path with perseverance until you conquered where you are now.

Every chorus the audience screamed at the top of their lungs reverberated through your body and made your bones tremble, while your band played the songs you knew by heart since you were fourteen when you started creating them in your room, you danced around the stage, interacted with the audience and gave your all for each of those individuals who made you so proud of your work.

They jumped up and down as if it was the last night of their lives, the signs with funny phrases, praise for you, and of course several lyrics of your songs, some looked at you with tears in their eyes others with so much emotion that you couldn't help thinking that some drug was involved, but who were you to judge if the one you had this morning was still on your system?

Those were usually the best nights of your life, you loved the shows, the energy of the audience vibrating so intensely full of energy feeling every lyric just like you felt living what you write and sing on each album. It was her way of connecting with the world, of feeling seen by someone, of being heard. And it seemed to work when you looked at those faces.

The spotlights focus on you for a few seconds while you sing the last notes to finish, you close your eyes feeling that adrenaline through your veins once more, it was good to be sober to witness the ecstasy of it, the wonder it was to hear the applause and achieve what you'd always wanted.

You walk backstage with a washcloth slung over your shoulder, panting from everything you've just experienced. Someone from the staff you don't recognize because of the dark offers you a bottle of water and you gladly accept it, taking quick sips eager to quench the thirst that has grown in you since the fourth song. Your back was leaning against some speakers while you caught your breath, from time to time wiping the beads of sweat that descended from your forehead, you heard a few steps behind you and opened your eyes in curiosity.

"You were rocking up there." A man with curly hair and a waistcoat says with a broad smile, Warren Rojas, you'll soon recognize it.

"Thank you Rojas." You say while nodding your head, soon the other band members join you.

You knew very little about The Six, they were new to your label and they were buzzing around, you were happy for their success, after all it wasn't easy to get off the ground that way in the first place. But no one in their right mind could deny that 'Look Me in The Eye' was sensational, they were very good and deserved the recognition they gradually gained. They were on their first tour and Teddy Price had asked you for a favor to open their first show, you were a little reluctant to accept because you didn't know if your songs fit theirs, but something inside you told him to accept the invitation.

It was their first night and you could see the nervousness mixed with the longing to meet their audience, little by little they headed to the stage and again the crowd was agitated amid screams and applause. You tried to ignore the heavy presence of Billy Dunne a little far from you, he looked thoughtful, as if thousands of things danced in his mind driving him crazy with their jumps and twirls. You think about approaching him but are reluctant... There is something so intimate in his figure, almost similar to a mirror.

You had never talked much, and you weren't sure if you wanted this closeness with him, something in you said that getting closer to him meant getting in touch with those layers in you that were so unreachable. You blatantly stare at him, and when he looks back at you it's like a vulnerability attacks your body, you straighten your posture.

"They're waiting for you." You say nodding towards the stage exit, The older Dunne looks straight into your eyes and sighs. "Look, I know it sounds scary, but when you get there, the music takes you with it. At least that's how it is with me."

He listens to you, which surprises you, on the outside he doesn't seem like a good listener at all. Something inside you gives a twinge, you recognize yourself in his eyes in a way.

"They are here for you, take your moment and feel that energy in your bones. I assure you there is nothing like it." You say lighting a cigarette and bringing it to your lips, your words emboldened the word him and you could see it by the way he took a deep breath.

He walks up the stairs listening to the crowd cheer as Warren begins the countdown to the entrance of the song noticing the figure of Billy at the foot of the stage, he looks at you before putting the guitar around your neck.

"Thank you." He murmurs, you just smile.

…

The show had been spectacular, it had been a while since you had witnessed such energy as an audience and you had to admit that you had been ignorant to think that your music styles didn't match theirs. From the balcony of your hotel room you could hear the city quieting down, there is something curious about the early mornings that make your thoughts wake up, it was always difficult to fall asleep during these days on the road, it was like a constant reminder that moving through various cities was more belonging than what you called home.

When the energy of the shows wore off and you found yourself alone in that hotel room at your own mercy, it was almost bizarre how you managed to entertain thousands of people but never yourself. The early morning breeze hit your skin like a call to the earth, bringing you back to the scene in front of you as you felt your hair stand on end in the frigid air. Your gaze goes to the clock, three in the morning.

You sigh, engaging your body in a hobby, deciding to go for a walk when you notice that you wouldn't quiet your thoughts so easily. Yellow lights illuminated the hotel lobby, you can see the surprise of the two employees who were behind the counter when they saw you exiting the elevator, you offer them a small smile and head for the exit.

It wasn't much different from the balcony in your room, maybe just a little cooler. Maybe now it was more vivid to be able to notice the details of what you admired from afar with a better perspective. At the same time that environment is so distant and apathetic towards you, it brings you a strange comfort.

There is something admirable about silence, about questions that cannot be answered, about the curiosity that surrounds each individual. Being there in the insignificance of your being through the greatness of it all, was a call to question yourself every time you caught yourself admiring the sky too much. Was there any purpose in this relentless pursuit?

"Is there something lost in the sky?" A low voice brings you back to reality once more, you bring your attention to the man with long hair who slowly approaches you.

"Not that I know of." You shrug, opening a small smile. "But there probably is, if I'm lost here, imagine whoever is up there."

You didn't understand why you were being so honest with him, it was the second time you interacted with him but it felt natural, and necessary. Billy looks at you in curiosity, understanding you, you notice.

"Do you think there's someone up there?" He asks, the question makes you think, you shrug deciding not to answer. He looks at you arching his eyebrows. "You intrigue me Y/N."

You light a cigarette, offering him another, he accepts. "And why's that?"

He takes a long drag, you watch the way his lips wrap around the object and that for some reason captures your attention. "There's a fine line between identifying with someone and wanting to be like them." He blows the smoke to the other side, "I don't know how I feel about you"

His answer makes your legs weak, you swallow hard trying to understand if the intensity of your day confused the discernment you were having of this moment, or if it was those eyes that simply made it impossible for you to respond.

"I just think you're an interesting person." He adds, you can't help noticing that now he was looking at the sky like you. "You know, I would love to write a song about you."

This captures your attention more, you turn your body fully towards him now, turning your face in curiosity. "Look, it usually works, I've been doing it for a few years."

Your comment makes him laugh, you notice that such a sound warms your stomach, it was good. "But I doubt you can do a better job than me." You shrug, he smirks at you with a curious look in his eyes.

"It's a challenge?" You can see that he was shivering a little, probably regretting his choice of outfit as he left his room.

You cross your arms with a bigger smile on your lips, the cigarette was already ending at this point. "Let's do it like this, I write about you and you about me. And we will see which album does better."

His eyes gleamed with the idea, it wasn't a fight between you, but a competition surrounded by curiosity and eagerness to see where it would all go. You were full of talent, reigns of genius in every line and musical note, from there wonderful things would come out for the music industry for sure.

"It's a deal!" He extends his hand towards you, you notice his calloused fingers probably because of the guitar, you shake his hand.

"See you around Billy Dunne." You throw your cigarette butt in the trash can next to you, entering the hotel once again.

…

The "See you around Billy Dunne" was in fact a prediction of what would happen in the coming months, you didn't have much time together even more with the continuation of the 'SevenEighNine' tour and later your own. You exchanged glances and several conversations during some early mornings from time to time, as time went by the line that connected you two was gradually pulled closer and you strangely loved it.

When you returned to the day of the record company, you saw each other in some meetings and among the halls of the place, the tension grew with each look, with each simple touch between you, with each non-verbal conversation. It was like a growing need that yearned to be satisfied, and how to satisfy that? You two had an escape from such needs, a way to demonstrate what words themselves could not do, it was the melodies that you showed all of that.

Each new song was a new hook to create more, a quest to light and increase that flame, it was addictive and you loved it.

You hummed softly as you strummed the guitar in the empty sound room, from time to time removing the pencil that is resting behind your ear to write in the notebook in front of you, days like that were good... Being inspired and proud of what you created was sensational.

A sound makes you come out of the trance, your eyes go to the big door that is opened by the figure of Billy Dunne, surprised you raise your eyebrow without saying anything. He tosses a notebook above yours, sitting by your side, you remain silent he then runs his hands through his hair.

"I wanted you to see this one." He says with a sigh, you open a small smile taking the object in your hands.

His handwriting was complicated, but you decide not to comment on it, making an effort to understand his notes. You feel his gaze on you, you know exactly what that feeling of vulnerability was, having your writing in someone's hands at the mercy of their judgment is as vulnerable as sex. He was nervous to know your opinion, his eyes analyzed every corner of your face in search of something that showed what you had found, you made sure not to let it show.

The lyrics were like the mold of his core, it was deep, delicate, at the same time harsh and brazen, it screamed at you while holding you in its comfort, it made you think and question and be sure about the little you already know. It was like delving into his soul, it was intimate and vulnerable, the feeling that you know so much about someone while not having exchanged a word with him in your life was peculiar. With each verse you delve deeper and deeper into the knowledge and meaning it brings to a new vision, and you understand that the magnitude of such sets was not just for being a demonstration of his vulnerability but also because it made you question and go in search of your own vulnerability. The peculiar thing was that, you felt like you knew about him when in fact the music was leading you to yourself from the beginning.

You only notice that you are crying when your tear hits the page, you are quick to suck your cheeks trying to recover from the wave of emotions that invaded you after the bridge of the song, how he did it you had no idea but he was able to access the layers you never got in yourself. You bring your gaze to him, a small smile on his face shows he is proud of his work.

"You intrigue me Billy Dunne." You quote him, then applauding what he had read. "Do you already have an idea for a melody?"

"Daisy is helping me with this, I mean, we fight more than we help each other but..." He says through a weak laugh. "I'm sure it will come out eventually."

"I want to be the first to hear it when it's ready." The smile on your face was inevitable, as was the need to be closer to him. For an instant you swear you can swim in the depths of his blue eyes.

His sapphire eyes wander in looking at yours and your lips, he slowly approaches you, another silent need hovering between you, but it was no secret to either of you that there was little left for that line to be crossed, his hands gradually approached your thigh and you allow him to touch you, feeling the great wave of electricity through you.

You take one of your hands to his cheeks, and kiss him unprecedentedly. As your lips meet, the atmosphere around you crackles with an electric charge. The kiss is a fusion of urgency and tenderness, a long-awaited culmination of desire. Your hands find their way to each other, intertwining and exploring with a delicate, passionate touch.

The kiss is a revelation, a meeting of souls that transcends words. It is an exploration of unspoken desires and hidden depths, an intimate connection that takes both of you by surprise. Time seems to stand still as your lips dance in perfect harmony, each movement deepening the connection between you.

The taste of the kiss is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and longing that leaves you craving more. It is a sensory experience, heightened by the touch of your hands on each other's bodies, creating a symphony of sensations that sends shivers down your spine.

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the intensity of the kiss. It is a meeting of minds, a collision of emotions, where every touch and every breath speaks volumes. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and the passion that courses through your veins is palpable.

As the kiss reaches its peak, a mixture of desire, vulnerability, and connection fills the air. It is a moment of surrender, where inhibitions melt away and the depth of your connection becomes undeniable.

As the kiss slowly comes to an end, you find yourselves breathless, your lips tingling with the remnants of the shared passion. The silence remains, almost as present between you as the other feelings, he licks his lips and soon smiles, picking up his notebook.

"I'll call you when it's ready." He speaks in a hoarse voice, you open a big smile watching him leave through the same door he entered.

…

For Daisy Jones, Billy's creativity operated in a very complex and different way from her own, after all, she rarely did this sober. For her it was like seeing a rare phenomenon happen before her eyes, and besides, it was very curious to know what was the basis for such inspiration in the songs that were entrusted to him. He was a quiet person, he didn't even open up to his brother who had been there forever, so Jones's biggest hobby together with Warren was to go in search of who was the inspiring muse of the older Dunne.

They had become addicted to it, searching for little clues and hints Billy left in the lyrics, or analyzing every change in attitude, every longer exchange of glances, but they had nothing but big guesses. Warren swore it was one of the helpers Teddy had hired over the past month, but Daisy maintained that the songs were too deep to be about someone the Dunne knew for such little time.

But the redhead didn't know you, she couldn't take her guesses to you because she had no idea of your existence until that day. Eddie played around doing some riffs, catching Graham's attention, who wrote it down in a notebook nearby—noticing only later that it wasn't his, but Warren's. Karen hunched over the keyboard sleepily waiting for Billy to show up, Warren had gathered several cans and was drumming on them as he talked to Daisy, both of them smoking cigarettes.

When opening the studio doors it was like shouting at a room that had just entered, because everyone immediately turned their eyes to you, you smile small as a way to avoid more extensive hellos, Billy doesn't take long to come after you with a huge smile on his face, which does not go unnoticed by Daisy.

She looks at Warren with wide eyes, as if begging him to understand what she was trying to say, Rojas doesn't even notice. She rolls her eyes and walks over to her microphone putting her headphones, the musical aura has always been a home for you so it's not uncomfortable being there with these people at any time.

You really wanted to hear how they had shaped those lyrics as a team, creating and bringing music to life was always and will be the best art form for you, and to see that magic happen before your eyes was always spectacular. The song didn't disappoint you in any way, you were too proud of what they had done there, you wanted to cry again but maybe it was too intimate for you to let that happen there.

You close your eyes letting the melody invade your eardrums, your hair shivers, the butterflies in your stomach grow again and you feel like you belong. When the melody drops and you notice the song gradually fading away, you applaud them with a gigantic, proud smile. Interestingly, Teddy does the same on the other side of the glass.

Daisy comes to her senses then, she notices the look in the older Dunne's eyes, the way he seems light in her presence, the way he seems to involuntarily reach out to you. She asks Teddy and Tobias if they had finished recording and they release her, she doesn't take long to grab Rojas by the hands and pull him out of the room.

"What happened?" Warren was high, she could tell because she was coming off her own.

"It's her!” Jones exclaims, pointing to the room that had the doors closed beside them. The drummer frowns, she sighs. "Billy's inspirational muse is that girl inside."

"Y/N?" He questions as if trying to connect the dots, he moves his fingers as if he's doing the math. "You think?"

"I'm sure!" The redhead exclaims excitedly, it was as if looking at you she could read Billy's lyrics. "I've never seen him smile like that."

"It must be because he hates you." Warren shrugs, smoothing his mustache. She frowns. "Are you sure it's not Gabriela?"

"He never exchanged a word with her Warren!" Daisy looked irritated, the drummer thought it was funny.

"You never saw the two of them talking either." He snaps his fingers pointing to the door like he's made the best argument in the world.

"Looking at her is like I'm looking at songs from this album, Warren!" She says hitting the key of her argument, Rojas is thoughtful. "I mean, apart from my songs."

"I still don't think we can rule out the idea that Gabi..." He starts to speak but is interrupted by the door being opened.

You walk out the door with Billy Dunne at your side, you guys laugh at something he had commented about Graham inside, it was curious how good and comfortable you felt next to him. Daisy looks at Warren with emphasizing what she had already said with just a fixed look, Warren closes his eyes still uncertain.

"Teddy gave us a few minutes to spare before the next round." Billy clarifies, running his hands through his hair. "We're going to the diner nearby, do you guys want something?"

"No no, enjoy." Daisy smiles small, almost like a smirk on her lips.

"I want a natural sandwich, an orange juice and if you can, bring me a granola bar too." Rojas says adjusting his vest, getting a chuckle from you, an annoyed look from Billy and an incredulous one from Daisy.

…

The background music was yours, you smile small with pride in your chest but try not to show it. You decide to sit at a table farther apart, avoiding prying eyes, you both knew you weren't very talkative people at times like these. Billy asks what he wanted to eat, you do the same and remind him to order for Warren too.

"And? What do you think of the result? "He questions drinking some of her juice. Looking deeply into your eyes.

"It was perfect, I had no doubt it was going to be so fucking good." You say, biting the sandwich that rested in front of you.

"To hear that from you means a lot." He sounded sincere, you decide to believe him. "Don't ask me why, it's complex."

You raise your hands in surrender, causing him to chuckle. You then open your bag and take out your notebook, he watches your every move with curiosity.

"My turn to surprise you." You hand it to him gently, you felt very vulnerable now, he accessed his layers slowly and it was scary, but it was good when it was done with him.

As Billy receives the notebook from you, his eyes flicker with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He holds the notebook gently, his fingertips tracing the worn cover before opening it, revealing the pages that hold your musical creation.

As he starts to read the lyrics and notes, a range of emotions flicker across his face. His brows furrow slightly, indicating deep concentration as he absorbs the words and melodies you've crafted. The lines etched on his forehead soften, transitioning into a subtle smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

You notice a glimmer in his eyes, a spark of recognition and appreciation. It's as if your song has struck a chord within him, resonating with his own emotions and experiences. The way he leans into the notebook, immersing himself in your creation, speaks volumes about his genuine interest and investment in your art.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, his gaze shifting between the notebook and your expectant face. When he finally speaks, his voice carries a mix of awe and reverence.

"This is incredible," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "Fuck Y/N… This is indeed a masterpiece."

A smile spreads across your face, mirroring the warmth and pride that swells within your chest. His genuine admiration and appreciation for your work validate the vulnerability you felt in sharing it with him.

"I still have things to polish on it." You make it clear, taking another bite of your sandwich. "But I think something really good is going to come out of it."

"You think? I'm sure." He looked proud of you, it was a good feeling.

Billy looks up at you, his eyes shining with admiration and gratitude. He reaches out to place a hand gently on yours, a silent gesture of connection and understanding. The unspoken bond between you deepens in that moment, as your artistic expressions have transcended words and touched something profound within him.

His reaction is a testament to the power of your song, and you feel a surge of confidence and joy. This exchange of creativity and vulnerability strengthens your connection, reminding you both of the unique bond you share as artists and individuals.

"When is the album ready?" He asks, the french fries in front of him didn't look very good but he kept eating them every now and then. "I don't want to rush you or anything, I just want to hear you sing again."

"You don't need any excuse to hear me sing Billy Dunne." You smile small, admiring his beautiful eyes.

He doesn't know much what to say, so he watches you intrigued, trying to decipher where you're going with this.

"Meet me tonight at the studio, I'll sing for you." You offer by opening your purse and leaving money on the table for your order.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He asks without taking his eyes off yours, you feel your legs go weak.

"Come and find out." You wink at him leaving the room.

Daisy pushes Warren a little to the side, he complains about the slight pain he feels in his arm but continues with his role of observing the table of the two from afar.

"You see? They're clearly having something!" She says proudly at having figured out her big mystery.

"I never would have guessed, really." He shrugs, playing with one of his curls.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Billy asks when he notices familiar voices when he goes to pay the bill.

"Eating dinner?" Warren tries to coax him with a wide smile. Billy rolls his eyes, leaving the place. "Hey wait, did you buy my granola bar?"

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

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

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[ficmenrhot]

Hii could u do a smut where reader calls finnick ‘Finny’. Like she moans it out while they’re yk and it absolutely makes him feral. And he’s all like:

“What was that sugar? Say it again.” Etc.

Say it Again

Pairing: Soft dom Finnick x shy fem!reader

Notes: Dom/sub themes, voice kink, praise kink, p in v, slight corruption kink, Finnick Odair is such a munch. Minors DNI

A/N: I haven’t had the motivation to write and I’ve still got a few requests in my drafts, I’m really sorry if they’re yours. Hope I hadn’t lost my touch

————————————————————————

Finnick was your first everything- first relationship, first kiss….the first one to break you in- and quite frankly, he intends to be your last too. He loves how he gets to be the only one to teach you all of these things- to be the person who corrupts your innocence, explores different ways to give you pleasure, and work your body better than you can.

Finnick is always sure to praise you during sex to ensure you’re fully comfortable with him. Sex was never really an intimate or enjoyable thing for him before he had met you, so Finnick wants to make sure you are given the experience he never did. More than anything else, Finnick would like to hear your be more vocal during sex.

Although you occasionally make a few noises here and there, letting out small moans and soft whimpers (because let’s be real, it’s impossible to keep quiet when the Finnick Odair is railing you), you often try to conceal your sounds because you feel a bit insecure about your voice. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick would like nothing more than to hear you moan out his name and to tell him how good he makes you feel. If only you know the ego boost it would give him and how his heart would race at a single comment.

This night, Finnick has you laid out on your shared bed, the mattress soft yet supporting underneath you two as he thrusts deeply into you at a steady pace. His warm mouth is latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, sure to leave love marks on your skin as one of his hand reaches for your clit to trace lazy circles. The sex, as usual, is phenomenal and your back is arched in pleasure, legs folded as they hang over his sculpted shoulders.

A few soft whimpers fall from your mouth involuntarily at the undeniable pleasure you’re feeling and you bite down on your bottom lips to control your noises like always. Finnick cocks his head, his mouth momentarily detaching from your neck as his lips form that signature smirk which you are so familiar with. You’re confused as of what Finnick is doing but you’re way too cockdrunk to care. His thick and lengthy cock is pounding into you so well, grazing over your cervix with every thrust and you’re surprised that it isn’t bruised by now.

Finnick grabs a pillow from the side of the bed and swiftly places it under the small of your back as he lifts you up and places you back down with ease. Your mouth falls open and you forget about controlling your volume, a loud moan mixed with a gasp leaving your mouth. The pillow has put you in an even better position, raising your hips slightly so that each of Finnick’s thrust is angled to hit that spongey spot inside of you which makes your toes curl in pleasure and back arch further.

“Hmm honey, you like that, huh?” Finnick teases after seeing your reaction, and you can only nod as you attempt to babble something incoherently.

“F-fuck…Finny, s-so good” you mumble, your mind in a state of haze right now.

Hearing your words and the nickname that just fell out of your mouth, Finnick’s eyes immediately light up and an even bigger smirk replaces the former one on his face. Although you don’t realise in the moment that Finnick has bitten his lips at your comment, you sure can feel his reaction to it as his thick cock pulsates in arousal, causing your warmth to tighten around him, feeling every vein and curve.

“What was that sugar?” Finnick chuckles both smugly and proudly, “say it again for me”

“I-I….”

Only then do you realise what you’ve said and your cheeks immediately turn pink, a flustered look appearing on your face which Finnick finds so, so adorable. You struggle to find the right words to say, only blinking shyly as you attempt to cover your face, but Finnick pulls your hands away as he stares down at you with the same smirk.

“Don’t be shy honey, your whimpers and moans are music to my ears……besides, your voice turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

Finnick whispers into your ears, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, ‘butterflies’ Finnick calls them. You blink, not knowing that that is what Finnick feels about the sounds you make, and it makes you feel better.

“Now..I’ll ask you again, sugar, what is it you called me, hmm?”

Finnick hums as he cocks his head with a small teasing smile, waiting for an answer.

“…Finny. I called you Finny..”

“Good girl.”

God save Finnick Odair from the things he is going to do to you.

———————————————————————————

A/N: to whoever had requested this, hope this is what you had wanted <3 Once again, all likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, so are comments!

[janitorhutcherson]

my husband

[st0nesnglitter]

i’m on my knees PLEASE do reader realizing something non-sexual they do turns finnick on + him trying to deny it until he cracks 🤭🙏

Okay a little self-indulgent cause I’m an eyebrow scruncher (SUE ME I DARE YA)

this sucks

You were standing in the produce section of the grocery store, squinting your eyes to try and decipher Finnicks scrawly handwriting. As you see him come back with one liter of your milk you turn the list to him, looking up with a little line between your brows.

“Finn, what does it say here?” You ask, fingernail under the word.

But he seems lost for a couple of seconds, eyes big and glassy for just a beat, before shaking his head ever so slightly. He glances at the paper but quickly lifts his eyes back to your face.

“Um.. carrots” he mumbles.

You turn to go grab a bag of the vegetable but Finnick gets a hold of your wrist. His big hands take your face gently and kisses you, deeply. Way too passionate for a grocery run on a Wednesday. And when he pulls away he keeps his hands on your cheeks a little extra.

The incident leaves you wondering, but it isn’t until later you can connect the dots.

You were situated in your loveseat, wrapped in a blanket and a cup of tea forgotten beside you, reading your book. Finnick was in his opposite loveseat, eyes glancing over his book multiple times towards you. As you encountered a difficult sentence your eyebrows knitted together, re-reading it over and over.

You hear Finnick clear his throat, lifting your eyes to him with a tilt of your head.

“Something wrong, Finn?” You ask softly, placing down the book open in your lap as you reach over to draw shapes over his ankle.

“No, no.. just keep reading, sugar” he mumbles, golden cheeks tinged with pink.

So you do. But as you try to emerge into the writing you notice how Finnicks eyes doesn’t leave your face. So you close your book and sit up a little straighter.

“I can tell there’s something on your mind, Finn” you say, head tilted with a little crease between your brows.

He stares at you blankly for a moment, cheeks still flushed, before reaching up to scratch his neck.

“It’s just..” he starts “just when your brows scrunch together like that.. I-i don’t know”

You smile, very amused by his confession, and you place your hand back on his ankle.

“It turns you on?” You ask with a slight giggle, scrunching them together on purpose for him.

“Fuck off” Finnick scoffs, turning away from you with a slight pull on his pants.

“You can’t be serious!”

He looks at you with an annoyed little pout, dragging his finger over the back of your hand. You look down at his touch, then up at him again, eyes lingering on his groin. A not so subtle tent residing there.

“Really? Right now?” You ask him, shaking your head slightly, “you get that turned on?”

“Well shame on me for getting hard for my girlfriend!”

reqs are open

[eufezco]

THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

[writersblockiskillingme]

The Great War | Finnick Odair

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: After everything that you've been through during the rebellion you finally found the peace with Finnick.

Warning/s: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, war, weapons (reader has a knife), bow and arrows, trident, axe, syringe, violence, fighting, Katniss gets struck by lightning, blood, trust issues, attempted suicide (not graphical, but it's talked about), wounds, pills, trauma, Finnick ALMOST dying, Snow's execution and Coin's death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Once again, a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's song (are we really surprised?)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The heat was getting to your head, it was staring to be too much. It already was.

The holes in your bodysuit that were the consequence of the poisonous fog were everywhere it seemed like. Your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat from the intense heat and exhaustion. You gripped your knife that seemed to fit you a little too perfectly. The golden earing that Haymitch gifted you so that Katniss could recognize you as one of her allies was hitting the side of your face as you ran to the lightning tree.

You were terrified. You were in on the plan to get Katniss out, of course. Everyone except Katniss and Peeta was.

You did your part. You joined Johanna and cut out the tracker inside of Katniss' arm. But that's when things went wrong. One of the carriers attempted to attack you. It was dark, tropical trees were everywhere, you couldn't see anything. You didn't know who attacked you. All you knew was that you pushed Katniss away to keep her hidden and Johanna ordered you to run while she distracted the person who tried to attack. For a moment you stood there frozen, hesitant. Johanna Mason then swinged her axe at you and you had no choice but to bolt away as fast as you could.

Your mind was racing too fast. Finnick. Katniss. You had to get to that tree to make sure that they are there. That they are okay because you were one hundred percent sure that if they weren't you would lose your mind. You would become the madness itself.

You didn't hear anything but two pairs of footsteps running somewhere north from you. You kept running, trying to ignore the intense dehydration, heat and exhaustion. But as you didn't hear nor see Johanna after a while you started to seriously regret your decision.

You pushed your was through to the lightning tree. You didn't have time to catch your breath because it was immediately knocked out of you as you saw Katniss pointing her arrow at Finnick. He was still holding his trident, but you know that he wouldn't use it even if she did shoot him.

"Katniss!" Your raspy voice yelled out, Finnick immediately turned to you. A look of relief washing over him as he saw you.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Finnick reminded the girl on fire and at that moment realization washed over her. You could see it.

She looked at Beetee who was unconscious behind her. The coil was still there. She quickly picked it up, wrapping it around her arrow before pointing it at the sky.

At that moment both fear and adrenaline washed over you. She was going to blow up the arena once the lightning strikes the tree.

"Katniss!" Finnick's voice rang out. "Get away from that tree!"

You started to panic. You were getting out of time. Finnick, Katniss, Beetee and you were the only ones who came. Johanna was nowhere to be found. Peeta didn't return yet. Your ever racing mind pushed you to run towards Finnick as fast as you could.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick's voice rang out once more before you saw it.

Katniss pointed at the sky, the lightning striked the tree and she let the arrow fly.

The last thing that you saw was the bright light from the lightning, a bloody screams that left Katniss' and your mouths and a painful grunt from the love of your life before the mere force of the lightnings hit sent you flying into the trees behind you before the darkness overtook you.

°

Once you woke up everything was hurting you. You felt so numb. You felt so numb yet you somehow felt everything. It was truly horrific.

The oxygen mask was planted onto your face as your eyes scanned the unknown territory. Everything was white and so clean. You turned your head to the side and spotted Katniss Everdeen, still knocked out beside you, and Beetee, not that far away from you. He was still unconscious, too. At that moment, you felt panic arise in your chest, consuming you. Where was Finnick?

You violently ripped the oxygen mask from your face as you stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled across your body. What were you going to do? You patted your thigh, but your knife was gone. You knew that you weren't thinking rationally, but you never did when it came to him.

You spotted a see-through box a few feet away from you. A syringe was in there. It was filled with an unknown liquid, but you guessed that someone knocked you unconscious with this so you took the risk as you placed the syringe in the palm of your hand.

You strolled silently towards the door. You jumped a bit as the door suddenly opened. You raised the syringe in the air, ready to attack anyone who stood behind the door if you needed to.

You felt yourself slowly lowering the syringe in your hand as you saw who stood in front of you. Haymitch and Plutarch Heavensbee. You made it. You were relatively safe. But not seeing Finnick didn't calm your nerves. If anything it just fueled the fire in your veins.

"Where is Finnick?" You hissed out, your voice dangerously lowered that you scared yourself for a brief moment. You knew that you probably looked like a mad woman, but you didn't really find it in yourself to care.

"Y/N." Haymitch slowly approached you, he raised his hands in the air in front of him as an attempt to both calm you down and show you that he won't hurt you. "He's here. On the chair, he's still unconscious."

You turned to look at the side that Haymitch was pointing at and there he was. In a blue shirt that was too big for him. You threw the syringe onto the desk in the middle of the room as you stared at him. Relief washing over you like the waves back at your District.

"What happened while I was out?" You asked Haymitch waiting for an explanation as you didn't take your eyes off of Finnick.

"We couldn't rescue Johanna and Peeta." Haymitch sighed, he was obviously afraid that you would try to attack again and this time succeed after you hear the news that he had for you. "They still have trackers in their arms. We cut Finnick's, Beetee's and yours out after we rescued you."

He stopped here and you waited. You waited for his words to finally hit you.

"The Capitol took Peeta and Johanna."

Out of nowhere, the darkness overtook you once again. The last thing you remember was Haymitch catching you in his arms and Finnick yelling out your name.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

The room of the hospital wing at District 13 was dimly lit. The cold metal walls of one of the hospital rooms felt like they were closing in on you, cutting the space for you to breath. Perhaps that was one of the reasons as to why your breaths came in ragged gasps as you suddenly woke up from your state. You sat up in your bed, sweat-soaked and still trembling. Another nightmare. The same one that haunted your every dream, every night, since the first night that you left the arena from your games. The arena, the blood, the faces of those you had to kill. Everything came back to haunt you once again.

Suddenly the door slid open with a harsh, quick movement.

Finnick slept in the room next door. You knew he was there, even before you heard the footsteps approaching. Pretty soon your suspicions were proven to be correct. There he was, shirtless and disheveled, concern etched on his face.

"Y/N." He whispered, crossing the room in a few strides. His arms enveloped you, pulling your crying, shaking form close to him providing the protection that you needed. "Another nightmare?"

You felt yourself nod, burying your face in his chest as you tried your hardest to just dissappear. His skin was warm against your cold, tear stained cheek, a stark contrast to the icy memories that plagued you.

"I can't escape them, Finnick." Your voice shook, a sob at the tip of your lips. "Their screams, the blood... everything. I relive it each and every night since that year."

He held you tighter, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

"You're safe here now, darling." He murmured. "We're in 13. The Capitol can't touch us here." He talked, as if he tried to remind you where you are right now, trying to pull you away from the horrific nightmare that he was oh so familiar with himself.

"The guilt is eating me alive." Your voice cracked, a silent tear sliding down your cheek. "I killed them. How can I possibly live with that?"

Finnick tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-green eyes bore into yours, fierce and unwavering.

"My love, listen to me." His soft voice spoke to you. "We all did what we had to do. The Games were a nightmare, but we made it out. We're alive."

"But at what cost?" Tears welled up, threatening to spill. "I can't forget their faces. The ones I killed. The ones that I left behind..."

"You promised me something, remember?" He wiped a lost tear away with his thumb. "Back before I was forced to send you into that arena alone. You promised me that you will survive and come back to me. You did."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." His voice was firm, it reminded you of the time that he trained you before you went into the arena for the first time. Back when you two were just a mentor and a tribute, nothing more. "You're so much stronger than you think you are, love. We all carry scars, but they don't define us. I want you to promise me something now."

"And that is?" You asked him as you kept your eyes on him.

"Promise me that you won't cry anymore. Not because of the Capitol or the nightmares. We survived, Y/N. And we'll keep surviving."

You hesitated, but then you nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead, a gentle kiss that sent warmth through your veins.

As you settled back against the pillows, his arms were still wrapped around you, giving you sense of protection you came to a realization that maybe you could find comfort in the darkness that seemed to constantly try to consume you. With Finnick by your side, the nightmares seemed less terrifying, and the promise that you made him that night felt like it will last a lifetime.

And so, in the quiet of that hospital room in District 13, underground, you closed your eyes, vowing to keep your promise. No more fear, you knew that you would be all right as long as your love was next to you.

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

The sterile white walls of District 13's hospital pressed in on you, suffocating you, stripping you of fresh air that your lungs needed right now. You sat at the edge of your hospital bed, your fingers tracing the material of the purple medical bracelet around your waist that said that you were "Mentally disoriented". The label of the chaos that boiled within you.

The doctors came and went, you heard their voices, but they didn't reach your brain, your messed up mind. They offered so many pills, you didn't even know what pill was for what anymore. They offered therapy sessions and worst of all, sympathetic glances. They looked at you like you were broken and you were, but you hated it with burning passion. Yet after all of that, you couldn't trust them. Not after everything that you went through. The arena, the cruelty of the Capitol, the loss of your friends. The nightmares that still clung to you like shadows, following your every step, and the darkness that constantly threatened to swallow you whole.

Finnick sat beside you. His hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. His eyes held a depth of understanding. The kind of understanding that came only from someone who survived the horrors too immense to name.

"You don't have to face this alone." He said softly. His voice was your lifeline, pulling you back from the endless abyss. "Y/N, let them help you."

"They don't understand, Finnick." You whispered in the quietness of the room. "They can't understand."

"Maybe not, but I do." His thumb traced circles on your palm.

"Finnick, I-" You met his gaze, the weight of your pain reflected in his sea-green eyes.

Before you could finish, though, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by fear and longing. His mouth tasted of salt and the sea.

"Don't shut me out." He murmured against your lips, his voice sweater then honey. "I can't lose you, too."

"I'm broken, Finnick." Tears welled up blurring your vision.

"No." He said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're a survivor. And you're mine."

Finnick pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were fragile glass. His heartbeat echoed against your chest, a rhythm of hope.

"Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you won't try to leave me behind again."

The memory of the razor blade, the cold metal against your skin, haunted you. You'd wanted an escape, a way to silence the screams of your fellow tributes that echoed in your mind. But the doctors had intervened, wrestling the blade from your trembling hand.

"I promise." You choked out. "But what if I can't keep it?"

"Then I'll be here." He vowed, his grip on your hands tightened. "Every step of the way. We'll fight this darkness together."

And so, in the sterile hospital room that you were forced to stay in, Finnick and you clung to each other. The fragile threads of two broken souls entwined. Finnick's love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the blink. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that survival was possible. Even when the nightmares threatened to consume you.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

The air was thick with tension, the walls of District 13 trembling as the Capitol’s bombs rained down upon them. Finnick now stood alongside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His sea-green eyes were filled with worry, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest once again.

The lockdown sirens blared, drowning out the screams of panic echoing through the corridors. People rushed past you, seeking shelter, but you and Finnick remained rooted to the spot. The world outside seemed to blur as you clung to each other, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

“Y/N.” Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll get through this. Somehow we always do.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His stubble scratched against your skin, a familiar sensation that grounded you. The Capitol had taken so much from both of you—the Games, the torture, the loss—but here, in this moment, you had each other.

The bombs continued to fall, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You pressed your cheek against Finnick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hand slid down to your lower back, holding you close as if he could shield you from the destruction outside.

“I love you.” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the chaos everywhere around you. “After all this is over, I promise I won’t fight anymore. No more battles, no more bloodshed.”

Finnick’s grip tightened. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“No.” You interrupted. “I mean it. We’ve both seen enough violence, lost enough people. If we survive this war, I want a different life. A peaceful one. With you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“A peaceful life...” he repeated, as if testing the words. “Together.”

“Together.” You nodded, your heart swelling with determination.

And so, as the bombs continued to fall, you made a silent vow. You would survive this war, not for the rebellion or for justice, but for the chance to hold Finnick Odair in your arms without fear. To build a future where love could flourish, where scars could heal, and where promises were kept.

In the chaos of District 13’s lockdown, you clung to each other, two souls battered by the storm. But love was your anchor, and as long as you had that, you knew you could weather anything—even the wrath of the Capitol.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows on the cold metal walls. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for Finnick. The room where the victors were supposed to meet felt like a prison. A place where memories of the Games and the Capitol’s cruelty still lingered.

The rebellion had succeeded. The Capitol was in chaos, its once-mighty regime crumbling. But victory came at a cost. The mutts, the twisted, genetically engineered creatures, had nearly taken Finnick from you. Katniss had told you about it, her voice raw with emotion. How he’d fought tooth and nail, how he’d almost been torn apart.

And now, as you waited, your fingers trembling, you couldn’t shake the image of his bloodied form from your mind. The way he’d looked at you before leaving for that final mission, the promise in his eyes, the unspoken words that he will return to you alive, in one piece. You’d clung to that promise, held it close like a fragile flame in the darkest of nights.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Finnick Odair, the boy with the sea-green eyes and the tragic past. His hair was disheveled, his skin pale, but he was alive. He stepped into the hallway, and you rushed to him, throwing your arms around his neck. His scent, the salt of the sea that carried itself back from your home, the tang of sweat, filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Finnick.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the war, the mutts, the bloodshed. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.

“I promised, didn’t I?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a hint of a smile. “I always keep my promises.”

You pulled away, your hands delicately framing his face. His cheek was bruised, a gash running along his jawline. But his eyes, they held a fierce determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

“You idiot!” you said, your voice trembling. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. Not as long as you’re here.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you kissed him, desperate, hungry, as if you could swallow away the pain, the fear, the memories. His lips were warm, tasting of salt and survival. And in that kiss, you made a silent vow, a promise of your own.

“After this war...” you whispered against his mouth, “we’ll find a place where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere far from the Capitol, far from the Games. We’ll heal, Finnick. Together.”

He kissed you again, and this time, it was slow, tender. “Together.” he murmured. “Always.”

And so, in the hallway of broken dreams, you held each other, two fractured souls seeking solace. The victors’ meeting could wait. For now, all that mattered was this fragile moment, the taste of salt, the warmth of love, and the promise of a future beyond the horrors of Panem.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

The air in District 13 was thick with tension as the rebels gathered to witness the execution of President Snow. The Capitol had fallen, and the weight of years of suffering and loss hung heavily on everyone's shoulders. Finnick, like always, stood beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both faced the president.

The crowd murmured, their collective breaths held. The noose tightened around Snow's neck, and the man who had orchestrated so much pain and death finally met his end. You didn't feel relief; instead, a hollow emptiness settled within you. The cycle of violence had consumed too many lives, and you wondered if it would ever truly end.

After the execution, you and Finnick retreated to your small quarter that was given to you at the presidential palace. You packed the few belongings you had left, folding clothes and tucking away mementos. Finnick watched you, his eyes shadowed by the ghosts of the arena.

"Y/N." he said softly, breaking the silence. "We've survived so much. But now… maybe it's time for something different."

You turned to face him, your heart aching. "Different how?"

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek. "Peace, Y/N. We've fought, bled, and lost. Maybe it's time we find our own peace."

His words resonated within you. You thought of the horrors you'd witnessed—the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the deaths of friends. The scars ran deep, and you wondered if healing was even possible.

As if sensing your turmoil, Finnick pulled you into his arms. His embrace was both tender and desperate.

"We finally get to leave." he murmured against your hair. "Find a quiet place in 4, away from the chaos. Somewhere we can heal."

"But Katniss…" you began, thinking of the broken girl who had become the Mockingjay.

Finnick kissed your forehead. "Katniss will find her way. She's strong. And she has Peeta."

°

The next morning, you stood with Finnick on the platform in front of the train that would take you to District 4. Katniss approached, her eyes red-rimmed from grief and exhaustion. You took her hands, feeling the weight of her pain.

"Katniss, don't do this to yourself anymore, I beg you." Your soft voice reached her ears. "After everything… we'll try to find the peace we all deserve. I hope you find it too."

"Also, there is something that Finnick and I wanted to let you know before we leave the Capitol." you said gently.

She looked at you, her expression wary.

"I'm pregnant." you announced and Finnick's grip on your waist tightened.

Katniss blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Pregnant?"

"Yes." you confirmed. "And Finnick and I… we've had enough bloodshed. It's time for us to find peace. Back at 4. Because we both know that we can't do it here at the Capitol."

Katniss's lips trembled. "Take care of each other." she whispered. "And write to me. Tell me whatever you need."

"We will." Finnick promised, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. "And Katniss, find your own peace too. You deserve it the most."

As the train pulled away, you glanced back at Katniss. She stood there, a lone figure, watching you both leave. The world outside blurred, and you clung to Finnick's hand, knowing that this journey was about more than survival, it was about reclaiming life, love, and hope.

Together, you and Finnick leaned against the window, watching the landscape rush by. The Capitol, the districts, and the scars of war faded into the distance. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

And as the train carried you away, you whispered to the wind.

"Peace, Katniss. May you find it too."

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the coast. You sat on the weathered driftwood, your sundress billowing in the breeze. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that matched the beat of your heart.

Finnick was out there, his laughter carried by the wind. He chased their little daughter, her giggles like music. She had his sea-green eyes and your stubborn spirit. Her tiny feet left imprints in the wet sand, and you watched them both, the man you loved and the child you'd brought into this world.

His white shirt clung to his chest, the fabric darkened by saltwater. His light brown pants were soaked, but he didn't care. Finnick had always been at home in the sea, a merman with secrets hidden beneath his skin.

You traced the delicate band on your finger, the wedding ring. The day you'd vowed to be one with Finnick forever played in your mind. The sun had been just as golden then, and the waves had whispered promises. You'd said "I do" with the ocean as your witness, and it felt like the universe itself had blessed your union.

Beside you layed Katniss' letter. Her words echoed in your head, a mix of sorrow and hope. She'd lost so much, fought so hard. But now, finally, there was peace. Peeta was by her side, both of them were healing together. The Mockingjay had found her song and it was a bittersweet melody.

You closed your eyes, feeling the salt spray on your skin. The sea had witnessed your love, your pain, and your victories. It had taken so much from you, the Games, the rebellion, the scars etched into your soul. But it had also given you Finnick, your anchor in this tumultuous world.

As if sensing your thoughts, Finnick approached. His hair was tousled, his smile soft. He sat beside you, your daughter nestled in his arms. She clutched a seashell, her eyes wide with wonder.

"She's growing up so fast." you murmured, leaning into Finnick's warmth.

"Too fast." He kissed your temple.

You glanced at the horizon. The sun was a fiery ball, sinking into the water. "Katniss wrote that Peeta and her found peace."

"It's about time." Finnick nodded.

"We've all shed enough blood for an eternity, perhaps even more than that." You rested your head on his shoulder.

He intertwined his fingers with yours. "Maybe now we can heal."

The waves whispered their agreement. You looked at your daughter, at the man who'd become your heart.

"We'll find our peace too, won't we?"

Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead. "After everything… we deserve it."

And as the sea sang its ancient song, you knew that love, like the tides, would flow. But here, by the coast, with Finnick and your daughter, you found solace. The wedding ring glinted in the fading light, a promise etched in metal.

Katniss's words echoed once more:

"May you find peace."

And you believed that you finally had.

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@randomgurl2326 @caroline-books @hellonheels-x @livingdead-reilly @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[hyperfixationstati0n]

guyssughhh i want to write for more characters but the finnick brainrot is going too hard :(

…………………..…………………..…………………..……………….

You sometimes caught yourself wondering how you managed to land Finnick. You and the former capitol-peacock made quite an odd pair. You were always shy, you didn’t make much of an impression in your games. You just managed to survive the longest.

But none of that mattered now. The games were over , the Capitol was no more. You and Finnick could be safe to just…live. He wasn’t the scared young man he used to be. He’s finally grown into his own skin. His golden hair was a bit longer, he opted for looser clothes unless he was swimming. Over the years his eyes became more relaxed and his smile lines became more prominent. He was a bit quieter but always succeeded in making you laugh, every single day.

So now, you were both in your home in District 4. You were on the couch, his head in your lap. You played with his hair, more wavy now that it was summer and he was swimming more. The freckles across his nose were more prominent too. You honestly thought he had fallen asleep like that until one of his hands reached up and grabbed yours from where it was scratching at his scalp. He presses his lips to your palm and keeps your hand against his cheek. You meet his eyes as they flutter open-as blue and as gentle as the day you’d first met.

“What’s that look for?” you ask softly, voice dripping with love and admiration.

“You, pretty girl. Always you.” He says back, smiling a bit more when your thumb starts brushing over his cheekbone.

You lean down and kiss his forehead before craning over to kiss his lips, keeping your head bent near his. Words didn’t always flow between you two anymore, but it’s not because you never had anything to say. But after years of both of you having to say and do things you didn’t wanted for the capitol, silence was often the choice you both made. You understood each other well enough anyways-if anything, the little gold bands on your fingers proved that. You could tell what he was thinking without even having to look at him. You kissed him again, softer, the unspoken words you both had flowing through your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[loveliestlovelygirl]

finnick odair runs the tightly woven string over his palms and through his fingers and ties it into knots, efficiently making a fishing net with his own two hands. You sit on the pier together, your feet dangling off the edge and over the dark waters. Intently, you watch him in admiration for his handiwork. You know that you could never keep up with him though you both grew up in District 4. He’s just very good with his hands in ways that you are not. Those are the same hands and long, nimble fingers that work magic inside you and touch where no one else has. Watching his hands and fingers move, bend, and manipulate the string into knots isn’t quite enough to tempt you to beg for him to take you there… right here, right now. But it is enough to make your heart race and your soul drown in memories of all the times he’s held heaven in his touch.

add yourself to my taglist!!

[veryberryjelly]

home

finnick odair x fem!reader

lyric prompt ; 'we are alone, just you and me, up in your room and our slates are clean' - state of grace - taylor swift

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⚜︎ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

this last week, your stomach had been in knots.

with the quarter quell being announced, finnick being ripped from your grasp again, and watching it unravel on your screens was heartbreaking.

until it all went black.

you didnt think that could be good.

since the moment your screen turned off you had been on edge. awaiting any sort of new, whether it's good or bad.

you hadn't been able to focus, or eat and you had barely slept since the radio silence started.

your misery was interrupted by a knock on your front door in the middle of the night. this was one of the times you were thankful for the insomnia.

you trudged across the wooden floor, pulling the sleeves of your jumper over your hands as you opened the door.

what you initially thought was a hallucination appeared infront of you.

those familiar cheekbones, his hair flattened, his broad shoulders rising and dropping with every breath.

you said nothing, not wanting to give in to your mind collapsing, but when he didn't disappear after you clenched your eyes shut and opened them again, hope began to bloom in your heart.

" d'you want to let me in or let me catch somethin' out here ?"

his voice was gruff and yet light in the small laugh that hung off the edge of his words.

when you remained stood shock still in your doorway he advanced slightly, his muddy making an imprint on your welcome mat.

you said nothing.

you didnt know what to say.

if your mind was making this up you didnt want to lean into it and embrace the crazy.

but you suddenly felt a cold, damp hand lifting your messy hair away from your face.

solid. cold. here.

your facade crumbled as you dropped froward into finnick's broad chest, his solid arms instantly wrapping around you as your clasped around him.

he was home.

he was okay.

after a very long explanation about what had happened in the capitol and in the arena left the two of you exhausted in each others embrace on your bed.

since he had stepped foot in the house you hadn't let him go.

not even when he said he needed to shower to get the chill out of his bones.

but thankfully, he didn't seem to want to let go of you either.

your fingertips traced shapes along his arms as his did the same up and down your waist.

" what does it mean that you're here? " you questioned softly

" it means i've come back for the most important thing to me "

" that's not what i mean, finn. what's going to happen, where are we, what's going on now ?" you rambled off questions that had been swirling around in your head.

" we are alone, just you and me, up in your room and our slates are clean "

his words settled in your chest, spreading comfort around your body as you let them settle in.

@sydsommersss

[thatonekimgirl]

#the way he looks at her

(or, billy looking at daisy in episode 8)

[reasonsmandy]

Rare Things

Sam Claflin x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Maybe something where reader and Sam knew each other for years (like right person wrong time) and then they finally start dating

✧.* summary — The paths of destiny are traced in different and curious ways, pieces that couldn't connect at certain times in the future would fall into place. Sam and you were pieces of fate about to meet again.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* ☁️ — Sam Claflin's Masterlist

There were several things about your work that amazed you, the way you were able to architect the writers' ideas, harmonize the actors' chemistry, bring the writing to life in front of the studio camera lens and provide a magnificent work of entertainment for the audience. You've always loved directing works since you entered the theater universe, there was a connection backstage where magic was created that you always felt like you belonged and that's when you decided to architect your career.

It didn't take you long to grow in the middle, of course things weren't handed to you on a platter, but with the sweat and talent you've been developing since you were very young, the steps were taken to where you are now. On your way here, you had already worked on some big projects, and that's when you met Sam Claflin.

You were relatively young when you first met, and from the very beginning, there was an undeniable connection between you. Your hearts synchronized effortlessly, causing palpable excitement in your chest every time he was near. His smile held a magnetic charm, capable of illuminating even the darkest of moments, and his infectious laughter made you feel an instant sense of belonging by his side. When his gaze met yours, the entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless bubble of affection.

But despite the deep bond you shared, the path of your love was not without obstacles. You both tried to navigate the complexities of a romantic relationship, eagerly embracing the love that blossomed between you. However, as time went on, it became apparent that a formidable challenge loomed over your connection—geographical distance.

Sam, you see, had other recordings in a faraway country, a responsibility that demanded his presence in a distant land. The physical separation took its toll, stretching the limits of your love and testing its resilience. The enchanting power of Sam's smile and the laughter that once echoed through your shared moments now seemed distant, like faint echoes from a place you could no longer reach.

The voice inside Sam, which had once proclaimed that there was no one who could compare to you, now grew quieter, suppressed by the weight of the distance between you. The inexplicable connection you once shared began to fade, like a whisper carried away by the wind, as the physical space between you expanded.

Though your hearts ached for each other, the universe seemed determined to keep you apart. The jolt of electricity that surged through your veins when your hands touched was now overshadowed by the vast expanse of the world that separated you. The warmth of Sam's embrace, once a sanctuary, now felt out of reach, leaving an ache in your heart that couldn't be eased.

You both fought valiantly to keep the flame of your love alive, attempting to bridge the distance with late-night calls, heartfelt messages, and promises of reunion. But the strain grew too heavy, and the burden of distance proved insurmountable. Despite the love that still lingered, the circumstances forced you to make a painful decision.

And so, with heavy hearts, you realized that the physical separation had taken its toll, placing an unrelenting strain on the fragile threads that held your love together. You chose to part ways, knowing that it was the only way to preserve what remained of your hearts.

It hadn't been a breakup due to fights, or very drastic disagreements, but aiming at the good of both of you, a way of understanding that even though you loved each other, it was necessary to let destiny trace its paths. And it took a while, but it happened.

When you received the script for Daisy Jones and the six you were delighted with the project and the idea of the adaptation finally, you had already read Taylor Jenkins Reid's books and were a big fan of her work so you jumped right on the idea. When you guys started working on the casting and testing the connection between the actors it took a long time to find the ideal actor for Billy Dunne, and when you saw that well-known figure walk through the audition door your heart skipped a beat just like the first time.

There he was, his short hair, that characteristic smile that captivated everyone in that room, you try to maintain your serenity but lose all your posture when those eyes link to yours. He looks surprised to see you but tries to contain it, you can tell by the way his eyebrows come together so discreetly that it's a detail that probably only you noticed. It doesn't take long for Riley to join you and spend the monologue with Claflin, watching him perform has always been and always will be a privilege, the way he embodies the character wonderfully makes anyone stop what they're doing just to see him.

By the time he finished you knew you had the perfect Billy Dunne.

…

When you started to live together again on set, you knew that there wouldn't be a rancorous past between you, quite the contrary, it was as if you slowly allowed yourselves to get closer as before. Sam always admired your work a lot, for him it was sensational to work with you and let his character be guided on screen by your instructions and scene reading. You guys were quite a team and that conviviality soon reminded you of why you felt so connected to him.

You feared that it was something in your head for a moment, that you had identified something that was no longer there, that your memories were so vivid when you looked at him that it was difficult to distinguish if it was your delirium. After all, he was always close to everyone at work, wasn't he? It was common for everyone on set to feel that connection... Right?

Deep down you knew it wasn't, that despite not believing in the mysticism that surrounded all the romantic stories out there, he made you think that there was indeed an invisible thread tying your souls. He made you think about the unimaginable just by hovering over any thought where you could be together, and whether or not you fed those possibilities... Yearning to be with him as you already were.

…

During one of the breaks in the recording, you found yourselves alone, away from the bustling set, immersed in a moment of solitude. The air hung with a sense of familiarity, as if time had momentarily transported you back to the days when your connection was at its peak. Sam watched you from time to time while he threw some small pebbles on the ground, and you felt butterflies in your stomach with his gaze on you.

As you and Sam sat together, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia. The memories flooded back, and you began to share stories from the day and eventually you couldn't help but bring up the past, the words flowing freely between you.

"You remember that time when we got stuck in that small town during shooting?" you asked, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

Sam chuckled, his voice tinged with fondness. "Of course I do! We thought it would be a disaster, but it turned out to be one of the most memorable nights. Everything cooperated so that we didn't lose the week of work, but that we had some challenges I won't deny."

The laughter that had once filled the air returned, weaving through your conversation like a symphony of joy. It was as if the barriers that had kept you apart had crumbled, leaving only the raw essence of your bond.

With each shared memory, a cascade of emotions washed over you. The anecdotes flowed effortlessly, punctuated by genuine laughter and shared glances that spoke volumes.

"You always had a way of making even the most mundane moments unforgettable," Sam remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice, his comment made your heart skip a beat. "I cherished every second we spent together."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart swelling with warmth. "You don't stay behind one bit, with your incredible ability to bring out the best in everyone. Your unwavering support and belief in my work meant the world to me."

As you spoke, the walls that had guarded your hearts seemed to dissolve, allowing vulnerability to seep in. There was a comfort in knowing that you could trust each other with the depths of your emotions, that your connection had withstood the test of time.

In that moment of vulnerability, the invisible thread that bound your souls seemed to grow stronger. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together, to give you a chance to relive the moments that had once set your hearts ablaze.

The conversation danced between nostalgia and hope, threading together fragments of the past with the possibility of a future that had yet to be written. The yearning in your voices, the warmth in your gazes, all conveyed an unspoken desire to reclaim what had been lost, to rewrite the story of your love.

"I've missed this, you know," Sam confessed, his voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. "The ease I have with you, where I know I can share all my thoughts, the way we understand each other without saying a word. It's a connection unlike any other."

Your eyes met, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The depth of your bond was palpable, and in that stolen moment, surrounded by the echoes of memories, you found solace in each other's presence.

You take a deep breath, looking deep into his eyes that seem to pull you into that paradise. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy for what I'm going to say..." You laugh, looking away to the horizon. “I could search far and wide but no one could ever make me feel the way you do. It’s always you, and I think it will always be you.”

He opens a small smile, his hands go to your cheek and he makes you look at him again you feel that no matter what happens, those eyes that make you lose yourself are your way back. You can't contain the laugh that comes out of your mouth, stroking his hand over your face.

“I think we’re one of those rare things deserving of a second chance.” You whisper with a small smile.

"We are one thing, for sure." He slowly approaches you and you anxiously want him to break that distance soon. “I wanna make us work again, if you’re willing.”

“God, of course I’m willing.” His smile was wide and he shifted his gaze to her lips as a silent question. "Can I?"

"Please" You say, getting closer to him.

As Sam's lips meet yours, a wave of emotions surges through your being. It's a kiss filled with longing, the culmination of years spent apart and the hope for a future together. The world around you fades into insignificance as the intensity of your connection envelops you both.

His touch is tender yet passionate, his hands cradling your face, as if trying to imprint every sensation onto his memory. The taste of his lips is familiar, a bittersweet reminder of what you had once shared and what you now have the chance to reclaim.

In that single moment, time seems to stand still. The gentle breeze carries the soft sighs of two souls finding solace in each other's arms. The warmth of the sun caresses your skin, mirroring the warmth that blossoms within your hearts.

It's a kiss that speaks volumes—a testament to the unbreakable bond between you. With each brush of his lips against yours, the weight of the past lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and possibility. The electricity that courses through your veins is a testament to the undeniable chemistry that exists between you, reignited in this tender embrace.

The world around you blurs, and it's just the two of you, locked in a timeless moment of pure love and longing. The kiss deepens, fueled by the unspoken promise of a second chance, a commitment to make things work this time around.

As you finally break apart, breathless and smiling, your eyes meet, and it's as if a universe of unspoken promises lies within that gaze. You know that this kiss is just the beginning—a rekindling of a love story that never truly ended but was simply waiting for the right moment to be rewritten.

In this stolen moment, the power of your connection is reaffirmed. And as you hold each other, your hearts beating in synchrony, you know that together you can overcome any obstacle that may come your way, for your love is stronger than the distance and stronger than the challenges that once stood between you.

This kiss, filled with hope and the promise of a future, becomes a symbol of your commitment to one another, a beacon guiding you towards a love that is meant to be, a love that will endure.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[ficmenrhot]

Speechless

TW: slight choking, hair pulling, dirty talking, p in v, dacryphilia kink, slightly mean!finnick

Finnick Odair is the smuggest, cockiest man ever, and nothing boosts his ego more than when he fucks you speechless.

He’s pounding into you from behind, his strokes deep and rough as his large hand wraps around your throat, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure which has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He’s hitting all the right places effortlessly, his tip continuously grazing that spot which has your legs trembling and pussy clenching around him, feeling every vein and detail of his cock.

“F-fuck…’m making you feel so good, aren’t I, honey? I can feel the way your sweet pussy is clenching around me so tightly”

You can’t see his face but you can sense that smug smirk on his face, and when you don’t answer to his question, he angles his strokes to thrust even deeper, a loud moan falling from your mouth.

“I’m fucking you so good right now you can’t even speak huh, sugar?” Finnick asks with a chuckle to which you reply with an incoherent babble.

Finnick continues to thrust into you in that angle and soon you feel your knees buckle as your climax approaches. Finnick senses that you’re close by the way you clench around him again and he brings a hand down to your heat, drawing circles and figure eights repetitively on your clit with his long fingers.

“Finn- f-fuck..I..I”

You struggle to form a sentence, the immense pleasure fogging your mind as your body melts in Finnick’s touch. You mumble as a tear rolls down your cheeks from the overwhelming sense of pleasure…bliss.

Finnick smirks at your reaction, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging it back, forcing you to look him in the eye. You whimper as he slowly increases the rhythm of his thrusts, attentively studying the way your chest rises and falls and mouth falls open. Your eyes water even more as he speeds the pace and a Finnick wipes away your tears with his thumb, kissing your tear-stained cheek.

“I want to look at you when you come on my cock honey….so keep your pretty little eyes open, hmm?” Finnick hums, and you can only respond with a nod as you babble some random words.

Finnick Odair who chuckles quietly to himself, knowing that only he can make you feel this good…….only he can fuck you so well that you’re unable to speak.

[janitorhutcherson]

finnick odair x bunny!reader (fluff)

just some silly fluff hcs. finally feeding u guys finnick content too. not literal bunny, btw. pet name bunny!! :p plz enjoy!!! it’s short oopsies.

—————————

finnick odair and bunny!reader are the absolute best pair. finnick isn’t typically a gentle person. he is elegant, handsome, masculine, but he’s cocky and quick witted, something that can come off as arrogant rather than charming. with you, however, he can’t help but melt into a pile of mush.

finnick had started calling you bunny one day by a fluke. you two had been calling each other assortments of strange pet names, such as ‘bear’ or turtle’. that was, until, finnick froze, his expression softening as the corners of his lips turned up. “bunny,” was all he said, quietly, his voice laced with honey and love. you cocked your head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “bunny, it’s perfect for you,” he chuckled, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against yours.

after that, the rest was history. finnick didn’t use baby or honey or love much, but instead, he always used bunny. you never even heard your real name from his lips unless it was serious. he’d thought it was so perfect for you. your eyes were soft and round, like a bunny’s. your skin was soft, smooth, and you loved to be caressed and pet. your nose would twitch and you’d loved nothing more than to be cuddled, kissed, but only on your own time. you were moody much like one too, your mood swings similar to the way a bunny may stomp if they’ve not gotten their way.

you adopted the role pretty easily, leaning into him every time he’d say the word. “bunny,” he’d say so quietly, his eyes inviting you to come lay beside him on the bed, and you’d do just that. it was like a command almost, something that fell from his lips in order to remind you that you were his in a way so unique that no one else would get it. you were his bunny. he’d get you bunny ears, shirts with bunnies on them, little shorts that had lace on the hems and bunnies on the thighs or hoodies with bunny ear hoods. he loved to see you in them. he felt it was so fitting.

at night he couldn’t help but to admire you while you slept in his arms, his eyes tracing your body, your mouth slightly open as soft little snores slipped out of your mouth. you were perfect, his bunny, his angel that fit right into the crook of his arm like a puzzle piece. he’d curled up in front of you now, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest. he pulled the blankets up to your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his chin onto the top of your head. “goodnight, sleep tight, my lil bunny…” was the last thing he whispered before his own eyes fluttered closed, his arms warm and his heart fuzzier with love than the coat of a rabbit.

[allisluv]

finnick and s/o during their honeymoon 🤗?

anon i love this so freaking much. i done hcs for this but im working on a blurb too, i hope that’s okay <3

some slightly nsfw thoughts are under the cut

finnick’s definitely a sucker for honeymoon sex. he calls you ‘my wife’ or ‘mrs odair’ and constantly praises you, telling you how well you're doing and how good you feel. there's also a lot of i love you's and the aftercare is just out of this world.

regardless of where you go for your honeymoon, it's going to be very romantic; rose petals on the balcony, breakfast in bed, soft kisses as he coaxes you awake.

finnick is always touching you in some way or another. he will kiss the back of your knuckles and pin you to the bed just to keep you there a few more minutes more. he is always holding your hand and pressing feather-light kisses to your forehead.

if this was set after the war, there would be a lot of relaxing involved. it would take you both a while to learn how to live without the threat of happiness being snatched away from you. you would spend a lot of time swimming or sunbathing while finnick does laps in the oceans.

its overall finnick doting on you to be honest <3