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m0nnypie · 7 days ago

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I'VE GOT MY EYES ON YOU

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: Just the pov of Finnick loving you over the years, and remembering everything about you

Warnings: cute but with a bit of angst on Finn's part. Other than that, all happiness and love.

a/n: Well, excuse any spelling mistakes, English isn't my first language. And I tried my best to make it as much like Finnick as I could, but this is my first fic of his lol. Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy <3

Words: 1.8k

Finnick remembers the first time he saw you. He was eight and you were only six. Your father had gone to see his for some reason Finnick can't remember — not least because he hadn't been paying attention to them. What he does remember is you glaring at him. It made him laugh, which only deepened your frown.

He imagines it was because you didn't like him very much at the time. He didn’t blame you. With your older brother constantly saying that no boy was any good, it was hard to be friends with anyone he was always badmouthing. Finnick didn’t blame your brother either — in a world like theirs, any protection, even unnecessary, was better than none. Still, nothing changed how cute and funny he had found you at the time. After that day, you never met in person again.

The time he considers the second was when his name was called at the reaping. He remembers your eyes glued to him; you were twelve, and he was fourteen. He could feel your pity seeping through his skin. He didn’t blame you — after all, like it or not, it was still the Hunger Games. But knowing that you were looking at him made it almost funny to him, and it was with that thought in mind that he entered the arena.

The third time was when he returned home victorious. Of course, there were lots of people congratulating him — his relieved family and everyone else — but the only thing he saw was you, walking toward him. He didn't think it was of his own volition, considering you was with your father and brother, but as soon as you approached, you wore the best, most beautiful smile he had ever seen you give. And for the first time in years, you spoke to him.

"Congratulations on winning, Finnick. I'm glad you're back... well, we're glad."

He could see the smile on your father’s face, though he couldn’t say the same for your brother. Not that he minded. So he just smiled back at you — not the smile he reserved for the Capitol, but a real smile.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you too."

He saw you get embarrassed, and he wanted to laugh at that. But he wouldn’t — not in front of your father. Not yet.

For the rest of the day, he listened to his father talk about how much your father complained about you, because you wouldn't stop talking about Finnick. His father laughed as he ruffled his hair affectionately. And it’s not like Finnick was going to complain.

Everyone said it was normal for girls to have a little crush on boys who won at something — at least, that’s what the people he knew told him. Maybe that’s why, two months later, it was as if Finnick no longer existed to you. You were back in your own world, with your friends, without him. Not that it bothered him — not really.

The next time he really saw you, you were sixteen, and he was eighteen. He was a mentor now, and when your name was called at the reaping, he could see on your face how much you hated it. Most people didn't care or thought that a dead kid from District 4 wouldn't make much difference, since you wasn’t a Career or someone important. Finnick hated it — but he would never say so.

He also remembers how, for whatever reason, you didn't put any effort into your training. He thought it was because of what everyone thought of you as a tribute, or maybe you just didn't give a damn about dying in the arena. He didn't admit it at the time, but he had been terrified that you wouldn't make it out of the arena alive. He also remembers how surprised everyone was by your training score — including him. It was a ten. He remembers it clearly, and you didn't seem to mind.

On the day of the Games, all you did was say goodbye to your stylists. You didn't look in anyone else's direction, but he didn't blame you. If you were going to become one of the last survivors, there would come a point when you would have to kill someone. It wasn't something everyone wanted to face.

He remembers seeing you in the arena — you did well. For the first few days, you kept to yourself, hiding and trying to survive. But at some point — he can't say exactly when — things changed. Perhaps it was when the male tribute from your district was killed, or when you saw a pair of boys, just twelve years old, die.

It wasn't a change that anyone on Capitol had noticed. But Finnick knew you well enough to say that the deaths of people you barely knew had affected you. He still remembers when one of the tributes from District 4 was a twelve-year-old boy - you didn't know him, but you still went to say goodbye. You were only fourteen.

And at that very moment, you had just thrown an axe into the head of the boy from District 3 who had killed the twelve-year-olds. You hadn't thought — you had just acted. Obviously, this had a positive consequence for you in the Capitol's eyes, because a while later, you were sent food that would last for about four days.

He remembers the exact moment you won. He wanted to say he was relieved, but that wouldn't be fair to you. Until you left for District 4, you didn't say a single word to him. Perhaps because no one was looking at you with such high expectations anymore, you felt confident enough to speak.

"Do you regret killing those people to survive?"

"No."

He had to be honest; he couldn't lie. But after that, he didn't hear your voice again for the rest of the journey — you didn't even look at him. Still, when you arrived in District 4, you acted as if you were fine, as if you didn’t care.

He also remembers when you became friends. It was a good thing — a big step, considering that before, you wouldn’t even look him in the face. Now he understood why. Even though it hadn't seemed like it before, you had lots of friends. You were funny, entertaining, and you cooked extremely well. Finnick admitted that he envied your food — and he couldn’t lie about that.

He obviously remembers the following year, when the two of you were mentors. You were only seventeen, but you didn't seem bothered about directing two people toward a possible death. He saw how hard you worked not to get attached to either of the tributes, because if they didn't come back, you wouldn't feel guilty. But when Annie returned, alive and safe, he also saw you break down. You hugged her as if she were going to disappear. And he didn’t blame you for that either. Over the next year, no one ever brought up the subject of Annie becoming a mentor.

When you were nineteen, things went to another level. Once ignored, now he was kissed when no one was watching — well, that was a breakthrough. He remembers every kiss, every smile. He also remembers when you woke him up at dawn to help Annie. He didn't mind; he was spending time with you and helping a friend.

While he was making tea, if he looked over his shoulder, he could see you hugging her, whispering what sounded like a lullaby — the kind you sing to babies when they can't stop crying. He could see how much you loved and cared for Annie, and that always made him fall in love with you a little more, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He certainly remembers the time he told you he loved you. You had just turned twenty-one. You said it back. And you held each other for the rest of the night.

He also remembers the 74th Hunger Games. He saw your relief when those two young people, madly in love — though he didn't believe in that farce — survived together. You didn’t know them, but you were obviously happy for them.

He also — sadly — remembers the Quarter Quell. When his name was called, he had imagined it would happen. But that day, once again, he saw you. Annie had been called, and before Mags could volunteer, you did. He saw you hugging Annie, comforting her as he heard her whisper "sorry," but you just smiled at her. And as you hugged, he heard you say:

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't let that happen to her again."

"I know..."

He didn’t know. No — actually, he did. He just didn’t want to admit it, because admitting it meant facing the reality that this year, he’d be going into the arena with you. And he didn’t even want to think about that.

In the arena, he did everything he could to protect you, Katniss, and Peeta. He really wanted the plan to work. He believed that you would be fine if they separated. But when he woke up, you weren’t there with him. You were in the Capitol with the others. For the first time in years, he wished he had died in that arena when he was fourteen.

He felt it the moment he got you back — you weren’t really there. He spoke to you, but you didn’t listen. And if he tried to touch you, he saw you despair, screaming as if he had hurt you. And he felt that way — he felt guilty for letting the Capitol lay even a single finger on you. They told him to take it easy. He wanted to tell everyone to fuck off, but when he looked at you, he knew they were right.

At that very moment, he was keeping you company, obviously giving you space — he didn’t want you to get hurt. But when he heard you calling him, he admitted he was desperate; you hadn’t even looked him in the face for days. So probably, if you had asked him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, he would have — even if he didn’t need to. But he held back.

"Finnick?"

"Yes, dear? Do you need anything?"

"I'm sorry..." It came out as a whisper.

"Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I..." You didn’t manage to finish before tears welled up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, please don’t cry..." He tried his best to comfort you without having to touch you. But before he could decide what to do, you hugged him — a little hesitantly, but you hugged him. And at that moment, he collapsed. He shouldn’t have cried — not when you were in such a fragile moment — but he couldn’t help it.

For a moment in his life, he had thought he had lost you, that he would never see you again. And at that moment, he decided he would never let go of you — not with the possibility of losing you again. He would never let that happen. He would always see you now.

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