#thg cashmere

[kald-dal-art]

More THG Victors fan art because I needed a break from school work.

Just sidenote the reason Mags isn’t wearing some type of uniform in her game is that I headcanon it took 2-3 years after the 10th game they started to give the tributes appropriate clothing instead of having them wear their reaping clothes so yeah :)

[askclato]

Snow: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Gloss: Nope, absolutely not.

Brutus: I hope it sucks, whatever you’re going through.

Cashmere: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Enobaria: I can’t wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could’ve changed that outcome.

[lost-in-beacon-hills]

I feel like prostitution in the hunger games isn't talked about enough. I don't think it carries the full weight that it should. Prostitution in media is more often then not just a woman doing it for money. She's willingly doing it and has a motive and actively gets something out of it.

We are starting to recognize sex work as work. People dont treat prostitution as taboo anymore. We know it happens. But that's not what's happening to the victors. This isn't sex work. It's closer to sex slavery. Even calling it prostitution makes it lose some of the horror.

They have no say in what they do. They don't have bodily autonomy. The only character we really see speak out against it is Finnick. We know it's happened to the others but we don't really get too many details about it. I can say I understand it all I want but it hasn't sunk it just how awful it is. They are bought and sold and used by the capitol.

[loveliestlovelygirl]

cashmere, cologne, & white sunshine | 𝟙

money is the anthem, god, you're so handsome

dilf!finnick x nanny!reader

synopsis: you arrive at the odair estate for your final interview with finnick's mother mrs. odair. when she offers you the job on the spot, you're so surprised. quickly, you learn that the children might be a challenge for you, but finnick's support and kindness is enough to cheer you on. it seems he even wants to get close to you...

w.c: 2.7k

highlights: {minors dni} extreme wealth, nepotism, children & childcare, flirting, a hint of suggestive content near the end, slow burn romance, power imbalance

table of contents | 𝟚 {coming soon}

You had never considered yourself to be the kind of person who falls for their employer. Not even coworkers. Out of the myriad jobs you picked up here and there to finance college and now grad school, never once did you develop romantic feelings in a professional setting.

But the Odair Estate... is an experience, one dreamed up by a romance novelist with its white rose greenhouse, angel water fountains, and vintage cars. And inside, gold and marble, crystal chandeliers, and winding staircases. And yet the majesty of the home could never blot out the brilliance that surrounds the man who resides here. In your gaze, a halo of light outlines his silhouette. You can’t be the only one who sees it. 

He draws you into this fantasy world. A world of sweet pleasure and romance.

Finnick Odair draws you to his arms, to his lips, to his love—all so effortlessly.

“Smith! Come here! You’re going to get jelly all over the furniture!” A handsome man half-dressed, only in a pair of khaki slacks, sprints down the stairs to chase after a small blonde boy with a smear of grape jelly across his cheeks and hands.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance, even during your interview, when you heard the low, melody of his voice. You see the urgency upon his sharpened features as he dashes after the boy, Smith, you assume, who looks to be four years old. Smith leads the chase into the parlor where you are being interviewed.

The greying woman, Mrs. Odair, across from you almost lunges from her loveseat to capture the tiny boy between her two delicate arms. She picks up the child in her arms and seats him on her lap. On the side table is a box of tissues, and she recruits several to wipe the sticky jelly off his face.

“Smith,” she scolds lovingly, “Nana is talking. You are being quite rude. Did you even say hello?”

Smith crosses his arms and pouts his lips, blowing air through them. He looks at you with these big, bright-green eyes surrounded by thick, doll-like lashes, finally acknowledging your presence.

“Hi,” Smith sighs.

“Hello,” you say back.

His nana grounds him, though holding onto his shirt as he tries to scamper away. “Be good!”

A manly laugh to your left startles you. “Smith isn’t interested, Mom.”

 You gaze over your shoulder to watch the man crouch down to his son’s level. “Come now, Smith. You have to get ready for school. I’m already late for work!”

Nana snorts. “Finnie, Daddy understands!”

He gives her, who you assume is his mother, a firm glare. Then he looks to you and smiles. You like his crooked teeth. He offers his hand, and you shake. “I’m Finnick. Thank you for coming to interview with us.” His hand is a little calloused but very warm and very strong.

“Thank you for having me,” you say back, on autopilot because ever since he stepped in, the rest of the world, including your own thoughts, have faded into the background.

He smiles again. “Of course. I typically would be a part of the process, but I’ve got to take Smith and Ruby to school now.” He waves. “Nice to meet you.”

He turns to his mother and mouths something to her with the same smile on his face. You wonder if it’s about you. And you wonder if it’s something nice. You haven’t exactly done anything to offend them... yet.

“Nice to meet you too,” you say a little too late because he’s already walking away with his back turned. You doubt he hears you.

Once Finnick and Smith are upstairs, Mrs. Odair looks back down at her clipboard and continues the interview. Your background is flawless of course. The agency cleared you. You’ve yet to have a single encounter with the law, though you speed often when you’re late to work. To Mrs. Odair, you explain why you are interested in the job, how you need to save up for graduate school for next year’s applications. She seems impressed with your academic successes and your determination to pursue higher education.

While the interview went well, you didn’t expect a job offer on the spot. As you got up to leave, you step over to shake her hand, and she says, “You are taking the job, right?”

The next day you drive back to the estate to begin. Mrs. Odair promised to show you the ropes of taking care of her two precious grandchildren Smith and Ruby the first week of your employment. And you were glad she did that first day. Smith, who you learn is five years old, is more than a handful. Ruby is eight and loves only her daddy.

You park your dated Prius—the paint has finally begun to flake off—on the stone road between the three-tiered fountain and the concrete pathway to the manor. At the door, you rang the bell once, and the butler answered.

He says, “Good day, Miss,” and he shows you to Mrs. Odair’s room.

She’s sipping tea and reading the paper. When she notices your arrival, she stands to greet you. The butler disappears without a sound. It’s impressive.

“So glad you are here. And so punctual!”

“Of course,” you say. Never would you show up late on the first day. “I studied the children’s schedules you sent over last night.”

She claps her hands twice. “Marvelous, dear! When do the children need to leave the house for school?”

Put on the spot, you shift a little. Geez, she’s testing me already.

“Seven-forty-five at the latest. But preferably seven-thirty.”

She smiles. “Good job! We should probably wake the children now. I’ll go up with you today. Wouldn’t want to scare them.”

“You did tell them that I would be here today, right?”

Caught up in her own musings, Mrs. Odair must miss your question because she starts to ramble on about the greenhouse as you leave her guest room. She tells you she’s only staying here for a while because the old nanny quit. There’s bitterness in her tone as she mentions the former employee, and you wonder what exactly happened.

On your way to the stairs, you catch a glimpse of Finnick alone at the dining table for breakfast. He’s also reading the paper like his mother did. His brow is furrowed as he reads. It’s a mystery what he finds so interesting on that paper. He’s so oddly invested.

The stairs creak on your first step, and he looks up from the paper. His smile is immediate and dazzling. “Mother!” he calls. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”

Mrs. Odair rushes into the dining room. “Darling, I didn’t want to interrupt your morning routine.”

Finnick rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah yes.” He waits for a moment and says, “I haven’t had a routine since the moment Ruby was born, Mother.”

She shrugs. “Maybe with this beauty’s help, you’ll have one.” Mrs. Odair pats your shoulder. “Come along. The children are slow to rise.”

As she drags you along, you can’t help but look at Finnick. He’s ungodly pretty. It almost hurts to look at him. And you find it strange that he’s looking back at you with a vivid curiosity. You chide yourself for ogling him like that. One, he’s sky-high out of your league. Two, he’s employed you. Three, he might not be single. Usually, the second reason to not crush on him would be enough. But your previous bosses have never looked like Finnick.

As you ascend the stairs, the walls are covered in family photographs. They’re clearly arranged by the time they were taken. When you arrive at the second floor, the photos are black and white. Mrs. Odair moves fast for someone her age, and you’re panting as you try to keep up with her. Your vision is slightly blurry when you reach the top.

“Smith’s room is...” she pauses, staring at you, clearly expecting you to recall from the floor plan of the house she also sent you along with their schedules.

You close your eyes for a moment. “First door on the left?”

She claps for you. “Such a smart girl!”

You smile, unsure how to respond to such a compliment.

Entering Smith’s room, the thick curtains are closed, and it’s because of the seashell nightlight that you can see at all. The boy is lying on his stomach on top of all the bed sheets but his head at the wrong end.

“Smith,” his nana calls.

Easily, Smith wakes. He rubs his eyes and sits up. He stares at you for a long time.

“Who’s she?” he asks, pointing right at your face with his tiny index finger.

“This is your new nanny. Isn’t she lovely?” Mrs. Odair gushes about you. Her support is endearing. But you’d be lying if you didn’t find it disconcerting.

Smith crosses his arms. “No!”

“Isn’t she pretty!” Mrs. Odair exclaims to Smith.

“I miss Herbie. Bring him back!” Smith shrieks. “I don’t like her.”

Wrinkled hands on her hips, Mrs. Odair hangs her head in momentary defeat. “Smith, I am so disappointed. You are being very rude.”

The child crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out.

She grasps your forearm. “I’m sorry about Smith. I promise he will come around.” She moves around to his bureau. “I can show you where his uniforms are and the proper way to dress him.”

You watch the elderly woman chase Smith around the room for a minute or two without breaking a sweat. She finally snatches him up in her arms and holds him down on the bed. He restlessly wiggles, trying to get away, but she is strong. Somehow, she manages to dress Smith and she scolds him for behaving dramatically.

“Smith, Daddy will be very, very upset when he hears of your actions.” He remains unfazed, as if discipline is a foreign concept to him. “Now, go down for breakfast.”

When his nana opens the bedroom door, he sprints out like a racehorse. You blink and he is gone.

Mrs. Odair turns to you again and sighs. “He’s a handful. Just like his father.”

“It’s quite alright. He won’t be my first difficult case. I just hope he warms up to me. My last family never did.”

“That’s wonderful for us. We desperately needed a nanny!”

Promptly, she leaves with sudden, passionate intent. And you follow her anxiously.

“What happened to the last one?” you ask.

“Ruby is much easier than Smith,” she halts at a room near the end of the second-floor hallway. 

Just when you think that she didn’t hear your question, she says, “We do not speak of him.”

Stomach dropping, you step back and swallow. “Oh. Oh, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

She scoffs. “He’s not worthy of a mention.” Mrs. Odair quickly breaks into her granddaughter’s room, as if to escape the topic.

Ruby’s room is a true girl’s room. You hardly step past the entrance before you are frozen over in wonder.

Cherry red must be Ruby’s favorite color. Everything is cherry red. The armchair by the column window is topped with cherry red velvet. There are red roses on each nightstand. Her headboard matches the armchair. The curtains match too. Her frilly duvet stands out in ivory lace embroidered with clusters of little cherries.

Ruby’s long red hair fans out over her pillows. She’s a sleeping angel. And you hate to see Mrs. Odair wake her.

Her brown eyes flutter open when her nana taps her on the shoulder. She looks up and her freckled lips smile widely.

“Good morning,” she whispers and stretches. Quickly, she notices you and sits up to talk. “What’s your name?” She has the slightest hint of an English accent.

You reply, hesitantly inching closer to the bed.

Mrs. Odair gets in the way of your conversation, picking up her granddaughter to dress her. She’s eight years old. By this time, you were responsible for dressing yourself for school.

In a few minutes, she dresses Ruby in her private school uniform. Together, you all go downstairs to fetch Smith, and then Mrs. Odair takes them outside to the car where the driver will escort them to school. Once the children leave, Mrs. Odiar pulls you aside to discuss your other duties while the children are away.

Rummaging through the cabinets is not how you planned to spend your afternoon, but you were told to treat the estate just like you would your home. It’s completely new territory to you, much like a castle with so many secrets you’ve yet to uncover. Today, you’re only trying to find the tea. A cup would do you well. Your thoughts have been a little more unorganized than usual. There’s much you must learn about Mrs. Odair’s standards for childcare. She seems to be more involved than the father, which bothers you.

“Left door. Top shelf.”

You glance over your shoulder.

There he is. Smith and Ruby’s father. You scold yourself for already having an opinion about him. You haven’t even known him for a day.

“Excuse me?”

He smiles. “The tea.”

You can’t think to respond in an intelligible way. How’d he know you were looking for the tea?

“Make me a cup while you’re at it.” He looks at you steadily. “If you don’t mind.”

Pulling the correct cabinet open, you see the boxes of tea neatly stacked on top of each other. You select a black tea and pour boiling water over the bags in porcelain mugs. They steep for four minutes.

You pick at your cuticles and glance out the window. Finnick sits at the table on his laptop, typing frantically.

Once the timer goes off, you walk over to the table to hand him his cup of tea. He doesn’t immediately register your action, but when he does, he offers you the biggest smile.

“Thank you. I do appreciate it.” He closes the lid to his laptop and pushes back the chair next to him away from the table with his foot. “Sit. I would like to get to know you.”

Shaking ever so slightly, you situate yourself beside him. He smells of luxury cologne, too expensive for your tastes. In your previous jobs with the agency, the families never were too interested in developing a personal relationship with you.

Finnick rests his chin on an open palm. “You’re really a lifesaver. Work has been a nightmare, and with Herbie gone... I’ve had to also look after Smith and Ruby more.”

For a moment, you narrow your eyes in judgement.

“Before you form opinions about me, let me say, they are my greatest joys. However, working a job that requires eighty plus hours in a week and two kids isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

You set your cup down before you. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Finnick massages his brows. “That’s an understatement. Dad won’t be around forever. I’m to take over the family business. I’m planning to make a lot of changes when that happens. For Smith and Ruby’s sake. They might not want this.” Finnick quickly covers his mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

You shrug. “I think I might understand. You want them to have a choice.”

Finnick nods. “Don’t tell my mother. You’d get me in trouble.”

You laugh together.

“Snitches get stitches.”

Finnick laughs again. “And disciplined.” He hides his expression as he takes a sip of tea.

Though you don’t quite know what he means by that, you laugh at him anyway. “I don’t think Smith likes me very much.”

“He doesn’t like many people. He’s like me in that regard.” Finnick looks at you. “But I know that if you stick around his feelings will change.”

“I hope that’s true.”

He leans close to you. Your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with his fragrance and his golden warmth. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

You giggle. “What?”

“Smith likes anyone who will play hide-and-seek with him. That and chocolate chip cookies are the way to his heart.” Finnick pats you on the shoulder. His hands are massive. “Besides, I’m on your side. I’ll put in a good word.” He winks at you, and your heart drops in your chest.

This is... bad. You really shouldn’t be having these feelings for your employer. But his charming nature is hard to resist. He must have lots of girlfriends.

“Thanks,” you whisper, too caught up in your own worries to recognize that he’s flirting with you.

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[melusinealarice]

Somewhere in Panem with the victors the 74th year

Katniss climbing the tree

Gloss: Really Haymitch, this is the girl that got an 11 as a training score??

Cato falls

Haymitch: At least she got up the fuckin tree.

Cashmere: It’s fine someone else will get her.

None if the carriers climbing

Enobaria: You gotta be kidding me.

Johanna and Finnick join on the couch

Johanna: Even Finnick’s kids could climb a fucking tree,

Finnick hiding laughter

Brutus: At least our kids made it past the blood bath, can’t say the same for either of yours.

Johanna: I bet you wish they’d kept one of mine around right about now.

Gloss: its fine, she’s a sitting duck, they can just shoot her, its not like she can dodge it, or move.

Glimmer misses shot

Haymitch: Did that girl ever hit any target with her arrow? Because mine did.

Cashmere: We told her to grab a short distance weapon, she has no aim.

Enobaria: that’s embarrassing, for the careers. Cato will get her, he doesn’t miss.

Cato fires arrow and misses

Brutus: Oh my god, I can’t watch this, im getting second hand embarrassment.

Haymitch: Can none of your kids climb a tree???

Cashmere: I guess not.

Marvel throws spear and misses

Finnick: None of them can aim either, this is just sad

Peeta: lets wait her out, she has to come down at some point.

Haymitch laughing hysterically,

Some time later

Katniss starting to cut down tracker jackers

Gloss: Did all our kids seriously fall asleep,

Cashmere rubbing her temples: Yea, they did

Johanna: Who sleeps that heavily in the arena??? Shes making so much noise how are they not awake?

Enobaria: She’s gonna die from those jackers before that nest falls,

Nest falls and careers scatter

Brutus: I need another drink,

Glimmer dies

Johanna: HAH HOW DOES IT FEEL HAVING YOUR CAREER BE TAKEN OUT BY THE DISTRICT 12 GIRL!

Cashmere: no comment,

Some more time later

Katniss plots with rue to blow up food

Gloss: they aren’t gonna fall for that.

They fall for it

Haymitch: you were saying?

Enobaria: This year sucks

Katniss kills Marvel

Johanna (drunk) : HAH BOTH OF YOUR TRIBUTES TAKEN OUT BY THE 12 GIRL!

Gloss: Ok im leaving now.

Cashmere: yea i think im also gonna head out…

Johanna (drunk): LOOSERS HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

Finnick: ok Jo, come on, that’s enough for you,

Takes her alcohol

Johanna: no fairrrr, you never take Haymitch’s alcohol

Haymitch: he knows not to mess with me

Finnick: Every time you get drunk, you end up in a fist fight, or breaking something, or both, Haymitch just passes out.

Johanna: OH WHAT YOU WANNA FIGHT LETS FIGHT!

Finnick picks Jo up and carries her to the elevator as she continues screaming and fighting

Haymitch to Brutus and Enobaria: Haha, your tributes arent as cool as mineeee,

Brutus: at least our girl doesn’t look like she wants to vomit getting close to her supposed lover.

Finnick returns

Enobaria: that was fast?

Finnick: I locked her in her bathroom,

Haymitch: Didn’t she just break down the door last time?

Finnick: I handcuffed one of her hands to the pipes and the other to the door.

Elevator doors open revealing Johanna, drenched in water, still handcuffed to a pipe, and the door.

Finnick: I give up. *sits down*

Brutus: what the fuck is wrong with you.

Both Finnick and Jo simultaneously: A lot.

[incorrect-hunger-games-quotes]

Johanna, grabbing Finnick by his collar: SAY THAT YOUR SORRY!

Finnick: IM SORRY

Johanna: AND WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR!?

Finnick: FOR SAYING THAT YOUR AGGRESSIVE!

[thesweetnessofspring]

By the time the anthem plays its final strains, all twenty-four of us stand in one unbroken line in what must be the first public show of unity among the districts since the Dark Days.

Hungertown 7/?

[moowithmidnight]

One thing about me is I’m always gonna defend the Careers. What do you mean you don’t see the tragedy in kids so heavily brainwashed they think being forced to murder other kids is an honor? What do you mean you don’t think about how terrifying it must be for Career victors when the illusion breaks but they survive? What do you mean you don’t see the parallels between the 74th and 75th Careers and lose your mind?

[incorrect-tbosas]

don't think about cashmere and gloss being reaped the first time, each time being terrified to lose a sibling and then be elated that they lived. don't think about them going into the 75th games, knowing that this time only one leaves, and the other might have to kill them.

(especially when i'm sure BOTH cashmere and gloss would have been forced into sex trafficking and the other used for leverage if they tried to rebel)

[kald-dal-art]

cashmere or clove?

Cashmere! I want to know so much more about her

[thehungergamesmemes]

Cashmere: Gloss has no survival skills, his need to win has replaced them

Enobaria: Nah, that can't be true

Cashmere: Watch this

Cashmere: Hey Gloss, race you to the bottom of the stairs!

Gloss: *Throws himself out of the window*

[clatoera]

don't mind me just thinking about the bodies of all the dead victors from the quarter quell who were probably never returned home to their districts because of the war breaking out and so who knows what happened to them lol

[lost-in-beacon-hills]

Someone has probably already pointed this out but mentoring is hell. When Snow and all the other kids get assigned to being a mentor for the games they all end up falling for their tribute in a way. Or at least most of them do. They develop soft spots for them. Snow falls for Lucy Gray. Lysistrata fell for Jessup. Even Juno shows remorse over Bobbins death. Nearly all these capitol born children find out when mentoring that the kids they watch die are actually people.

At nearly every turn in the ballad of songbirds and snakes you see all capitol born citizens get personally involved with them. And when they inevitably lose them they all become different. It changes who they were. Each of them gets a little more convinced that their kid isn't district. Snow even pushes the idea that Lucy Gray is practically capitol. Within the mentoring they all view their tribute as the exception. The one that doesn't belong to a district. Their tribute is always better or smarter or kinder than the rest. A few of them even get saved by their tribute. The tribute didn't have to do it but they did. So to them they can't possibly be from a district.

Making the victors mentor the children from their own district is fucked in a lot of ways. Every year they are forced to get close to another kid, knowing their families back home are depending on them to do their best to bring them back. They try their damnedest to save them but the odds aren't always in their favor. It takes away the opportunity for their capitol citizens to humanize them while making them isolated on all sides. They don't want the capitol citizens getting too close because if they do then they'll realize these are people. They allow the winners to go home while being the richest in the district. In twelve, we see that everyone is starving while Haymitch is fine. This helps isolate the victors even more.

Who would want to look at their winner when people are dying and they are doing perfectly fine? Who would want to look at the person that didn't bring your child home? They may know the capitol is to blame but the mentor always shares that responsibility in their mind.

It's part of the punishment for the victors too. It's not enough to force them into prostitution and sex slavery. You need more than bodily control over them to keep them broken and beaten down.

The capitol does such a good job at isolating and punishing victors. You're forced to mentor a child every year that you may or may not know. Half of them are already dying or too weak to fight back and yet you are their only chance of survival. You have to be willing to forgive your fellow mentors for the actions of their tributes because they are the only ones who will ever truly know the hell of losing everything. They are the ones that understand the hate from all sides. The victors are hated by the president, their own districts (outside of the career districts but they have their own fucked problems) and by the kids they have to shepard to death.

Snow's games is designed to make them view the other districts as the enemy and for the most part it works. They want the victors to hate each other but by having control over everything else all they are left with is each other. Even if they wanted to hate each other there would be no point. They have no one else. Their games change them. No one back home is able to pick up their pieces.

In bosbas he reflects that all the capitol mentors now are bonded. It's a club with an unbreakable connection. I think he saw how dangerous it was to let their citizens be too close and just how painful it was to do that job. Imagine being one of the few like Haymitch that had 20+ years of failure to haunt them with a district full of children blaming them for the losses.