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inatimate-icarus · 3 months

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Bones Chapter 1

Summary: You had always found comfort in your district life, and the relationship you all had with the capitol. But that changes when you leave the arena, Finnick takes notice of you, will you allow him to help you cope? Or will he remain just another capitol mutt in your eyes?

Warnings: Couple of swear words here n there, mentions of nausea/vomiting, depictions of violence/gore, blood, mentions inducing vomiting.

W.C: 4k

Your mother straightened out your collar and smoothed a hand over your shoulders. You were donning a soft olive green sweater vest, it sat neatly against the crisp white button-up and was a welcome contrast to your dark brown corduroy pants. Not too much, but good enough for the cameras. Standing a bit straighter to look at your parents, you felt it, overwhelming confidence. It has been five whole years since you’ve come of age and you have yet to have your name pulled from that infamous glass bowl. This is it. This was the year you left for the arena and came back to your district, adding to its ever-increasing pool of victors. This was the year you made your district proud. That thought consumed your mind, while you climbed the steps to stand with Granite, the District Two escort. You stood proudly, a confident smile spread across your countenance while you listened to your parents cheer you on.

Another round of cheers erupted when a small child, who looked like they'd just come of age, approached the pedestal. You shook hands with your district partner, Gabbro, a kid in your neighborhood. You’ve spoken only a handful of times, but you offer them a sweet smile. You knew they wouldn’t last five minutes in the arena, and knowing that gave you stirred something inside you but, the capitol loves a show. You watched them tear up, they were aware of the situation they were in. The capitol loves a show. You pulled Gabbro into a tight hug, patting their head and shushing quietly. You let them sob into your shoulder as you bathe in the reactions of the crowd. After your brief goodbyes, the next couple of days seemed to pass by in a blur, before you knew it you were preparing for the tribute parade.

You spent nearly all your time training and acquainting yourself with the other tributes, making quick allies with the tributes from districts 1 and 4. Granite was one of your constant supporters, giving you constant praise for your “overwhelming confidence”. Enobaria was rough around the edges and, though she made sure to see to it that both you and Gabbro were thoroughly prepared, she clearly had a soft spot for the younger tribute. Continuing to talk them through the nerves whilst you prepared to put your best foot forward for the people of the capitol.

You turned quickly when you felt someone else's eyes piercing the back of your head, your eyes meeting soft, inviting green ones. It took you a moment to recognize his face, though as he approached with a smug smile and the confidence of a seasoned victor, you knew exactly who that peacock was.

Finnick Odair. The youngest victor in the entire history of the games, you’d spent countless nights rewatching the 65th game, analyzing every move that eventually led him to victory. It was embarrassing to admit it, but you were a bit jealous, he was a year younger than you. And whilst you stayed in your district, training, he had already won the games; and with it the hearts of the capitol citizens. “Your stylist truly outdid himself.” A sickeningly saccharine voice filled your ears, and a stage-ready smile quickly found its way to your face.

“That he did, the gold is easy on the eyes.” You fiddled the hem of your golden skirt, suddenly feeling very conscious of your every move. Finnick reaches a hand out to adjust your cape, letting it pool behind you. “Yet wonderfully striking.” He was dangerously close, his left hand twirling an imaginary object on your shoulder. “Careful, Odair.” You warned, not wanting any unnecessary rumors ruining your chances. Though you made no attempt at pushing him away, that seemed to egg him on as he leaned forward to speak quietly in your ear. “Y’know comforting that kid was genius- you’ll have to give me acting lessons sometime.”

“What?” The word slipped without another thought, how could he tell? You felt you were an excellent actor, or at least, you thought you were. Finnick smirked, he knew what he was doing, trying to shake your resolve. You gently place a hand on his arm, taking a step back. Your trained smile came back to your face while you watched him, searching for a motive. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Finnick's expression didn’t change, but he moved a hand to his pocket, successfully fishing out a sugar cube and held it out to you. “Sweetheart, I know an act when I see one.” You shook your head and he pops the sugar into his mouth stepping closer again. “See, I have sort of a knack for finding secrets,” Shrinking a couple of sizes while Finnick towers over you, “And that fire in your eyes is enticing.”

You won’t let him shake you, having dedicated hundreds of hours of your life to training. You won’t let pretty eyes and a pair of dimples be your downfall, you stand straighter. “I’m afraid I have no secrets to give, Odair. But I’ll let you know once I change my mind.” You continued to stare into his eyes, this man is dangerous. One wrong move could cost you your sponsors. There’s an intense staring contest before the crowd suddenly grows louder, and the other districts start mounting their chariots. “I suppose that’s my cue,” You bow slightly, “til’ next time, Finnick.”

For a moment his expression falls into something unidentifiable, but just as quickly as it appears it’s gone, and his signature darling smile is back. As you turn your back you hear him speak under his breath. “For your sake, I hope that time never comes.” He made his way back to his tributes while the chariots prepared to leave. You didn’t have a moment to process his words before your performance began, but unwillingly his words followed you for days to come. And they continue to stay with you as your capsule slowly brings you into the arena.

You were a career. You’d trained your entire life for these games, physically, at least. That time spent never could’ve prepared you for the moment your knife plunged into another tribute's chest, no one told you how to rid yourself of the nausea you felt when his limp body hit the ground. With zero time to recover, suddenly all that time spent training was tossed out the window as soon as you saw Gabbro running into a little cave nearby, they’re just a child. The disgusting realization came as you fought off the tributes trying to corner him, you honestly don’t know what came over you.

Gabbro was a wonderful climber for their age, they were smaller and extremely agile. Making it easy for them to get down the pit, and once you had both made it down to the cornucopia, it was a bloodbath. The stinging scent of iron permeated your nose, and a wave of nausea came rushing over you. Fortunately, the nausea was quickly forgotten when a tribute from District 7 came barreling towards you, his ax high above his head. Which left you a clear opening, you quickly dive and aim for his chest. A guttural noise left his mouth, as he stood still for a moment, probably trying to figure out why you looked so horrified.

You were raised to kill, so why did you feel so disgusting? You realized you didn’t even remember his name, a subconscious effort to make it easier to get rid of the other tributes. The less you know about them the better, there’s nothing for you to get attached to. But that didn’t stop you from keeping a hand over your mouth as he collapsed, once again without a moment to recover you heard shouts from a cave nearby. Gabbro. That was all you needed before you were running in, but how you wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t saved the kid, maybe then you wouldn’t have heard about how much they missed their family. About the kitten they got recently, Rocky, and how he refuses to sleep without them. About how their favorite color is olive green because it reminded them of you, and your bravery. You wished you hadn’t held them and covered their ears every time the cannon went off.

While the both of you were making your way across the rocky terrain, searching for your next meal, the conversations seemed to flow easily. Speaking to someone about something that wasn’t the game was like taking a breath you didn’t know you needed. After just a couple of days in the arena 18 people, including you and Gabbro, were all that remained. Some of the tributes were people you had an alliance with, but they surely wouldn’t welcome you with open arms now.

Looking for food and water was a walk in the park if the park was scorching hot and also a desert. You two had managed to find a lake, the fish in it were small but you were in no position to be picky.

The night came quickly, urging the search for shelter. The sand started to blend, it was hard to tell what direction you’d come from or which way you were going. The cool light of the moon seemed to shine on the sand, illuminating the silent expanse, and then the canon fired.

Six ear-ringing shots boomed throughout the arena.

That’s 12 of us left. You were a little impressed, 6 people simultaneously? A sick part of you was relieved, not only because you didn’t die, but because you could already see the blood staining your hands. The nauseating fanfare began as the first six tributes flashed across the stars, you held Gabbro tighter, urging them to cover their ears.

The other tributes had continued to drop like flies, 9, 3, 2. Cannon after cannon for another week, until it was just a pair from District 4. You and Gabbro had been hunted down at least a couple of times during that, having just narrowly avoided it every time. On day 9 you had killed 3 people, around your age, one of them just barely missing any major vital points on Gabbro. But they didn’t get away unscathed, a large gash stretched from side to side on their right leg, making moving camp a little harder.

It was quiet for days, which was to be expected with 4 living people left. But unfortunately, the momentary peace was boring. And the capitol loves a show. The surrounding silence was replaced with a deep growling, you stood cautiously, not knowing what you were to face. A liger. If you were in a different situation it would’ve been gorgeous, you shook Gabbro awake, and a look of utter terror painted their face. “Gab, I need you to run back to the pit as fast as you can. Do you understand me? Don’t slow down, don’t turn back, I swear I’ll be right behind you.”

You gave Gabbro a tight hug, a goodbye hug if your luck had run out. Maybe 4 will kill them quickly, and it’ll all be over. You throw a knife toward the liger and it fixates on you, you can hear Gabbro limping their way to escape. The spear you’d taken proved to be useful, successfully putting distance between you and the large cat. And then it pounced, your spear sat in its mouth, while you tried desperately to hold it back. You could see the handle bending in on itself, you were ready to die, you just needed to buy Gabbro enough time to run.

A rock hit the liger in the eye, it quickly diverted its attention from you and you kicked it off. You looked over, horrified when you saw Gabbro toss another rock in its direction, you took advantage of the distraction and pierced your spear into its jugular. You let out a long sigh, before pushing its body off.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” You ran up to Gabbro, fuming. “I told you to run, what are you doing back here?” Your anger was misplaced, you knew that, but you also knew that you didn’t want to watch this child die. “You needed help!” “I need you to live, Gabbro.” You were both crying, knowing that only one of you was getting out of the arena didn’t make arguing any easier.

Gabbro threw their arms around you, sobbing into your chest. “Please just let me stay with you, please.” For a moment you stood still, and then you hugged them back just as tight. You two separated and gave sad smiles, and that’s when you heard it, an arrow flying. Gabbro was fast, much faster than you, they pushed you aside. “Gabby?” A soft gasp escaped your lips while you both fell to the ground, arrows continued to fly past while you laid them down.

“Gabbro, I need you to stay with me okay? Keep your eyes open just for a little while. I'll be right back. Stay awake, I’ll be right back.” Rising reluctantly, you raised your spear to the perpetrators. Marina and Caspian, the two tributes from District 4. Caspian held his bow with an arrow prepared to strike, Marina stood not too far away from him with a sinister grin on her face.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you. They’re a good kid, ‘s such a shame, they could’ve lived a good life.” Marina’s condescending tone made your blood boil, before you could retort Caspian's arrow narrowly avoided your head. You strafe left and pulled a knife from your belt, throwing it straight at Caspian's left knee, he fell almost immediately. You look back to Marina who’s already charging towards you, her trident glistened with something in the moonlight. You block her advance but she knocks you back, landing on your back you quickly recover. Another arrow surges past, scraping your bicep. You let out a hiss of pain and felt the wound, a black substance leaked out of your suit. A wave of nausea followed and you shook away your blurring vision, Marina’s sick laugh permeated your senses. “It’s amazing what a little bit of Fang Tooth venom can do to a person, isn’t it?”

Fang Tooth Bats? You had a brief run-in with them a couple of days ago, luckily you and Gabbro had avoided getting bit, but you watched a couple of tributes fall victim to their venom. Marina once again lunged toward you, you snapped out of your haze and managed to trip her. I need to get rid of Caspian first. You had sent your last knife to his knee, giving you no more projectiles, so you ran to him before he could load another arrow. Your spear drives a deep hole in his chest, the cannon booming as soon as his body hits the sand.

You can hear Marina’s shouts from behind you, but you’re struggling to understand what she’s saying. The blood seemed to smell much stronger now, and you fought the dizzy feelings. You grab the machete from Caspian’s side, but Marina tackles you to the ground. You glanced at Gabbro’s body, they didn’t seem to be moving. She laughed while she looked down at you, “You have to be some kind of stupid to think that kid is gonna live any longer, they’re already dead!” She lifted her trident above her head, but you grasped the handle of the machete while your other hand sat flat with the blade. Your strength was rapidly declining, struggling to hold the weapon in front of you. “Y’know Gabbro was first on my list, easy target. It’d take nothing for my trident to pierce their tiny body.” Her trident was getting dangerously close, you were racking your brain for something to get you out of this situation. You used your remaining strength and pushed her off, grabbing a fistful of sand and throwing it in her eyes. Without a moment to spare you slashed her throat while she struggled, her sick smile remained as her body fell.

Gabbro. The nauseating feeling was back and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep your balance, and you wobbled toward Gabbro, who still hadn’t moved an inch since you’d left. “Gabby? Gabby, are you okay?” Their chest was rising and falling steadily, but something felt wrong. They sat up and pulled the arrow from their side. “Gabs, why'd you do that? Fuck, we need to apply pressure to-“ You were interrupted when Gabbro swung the arrow at you, missing you by a long shot. “Gabby?” You fell back, moving away from Gabbro, who continued to shout and swing the arrow. “Gabbro, stop! It’s me!” You begged, hoping they’d understand. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, whatever hallucination they were going through was occupying all the space in their mind. “Shut up, Marina! I won’t let you hurt them!” You glanced over at Marina’s lifeless body. “Gabbro, Marina’s dead! She can’t hurt us, please just look at me!”

Their wound continued to expel blood, and you could tell it was starting to take a toll on them. But they jumped on you, thoroughly convinced that you were Marina. “Don’t you feel bad at all? Those people had families, Marina!” “Gabby!” You made one last attempt to call for them, your voice cracked and tears wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks. Something unidentifiable flashed in their eyes, and you sat up, bracing yourself. For the pain that never came, you opened your eyes and Gabbro had driven the arrow directly into their chest. “Gabs?” You said their name softly, catching them when they fell over. You shouted their name while cradling their face in your hand, a far away look painted their features.

The last cannon boomed and your screams rang throughout the arena.

It all happened so fast, you were pulled out of the arena and immediately sent to a hospital. You let the doctors and nurses do their jobs, while you sat, the image of Gabbro’s lifeless body wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t even have a moment to process before you were thrown into life as a victor, the parties and the interviews did nothing to rid your hands of the blood they’ve shed. Your parents didn’t notice the change in your demeanor, or if they did they chose not to acknowledge it. They congratulated you, praising you for the people you had murdered, for the kids you murdered.

Suddenly the comfort you found in the capitol was nonexistent, you found yourself flinching at any form of physical contact, even from your parents. You’d believed that the people in the districts were equals, but you were nothing more than their entertainment. When you moved into your house in Victors Village, it felt much colder than you were used to. Although your parents gave you a false sense of comfort, anything was better than nothing. And nothing is what you were given when you begun your victory tour, crowds of shallow capitolites congratulated you, showering you in praise for your game. You had to swallow back any tears while you read your scripted speeches, your eyes kept drifting to the families of the fallen tributes. Your own district was one of the hardest, Gabbro’s family had stood on a pedestal across from you. Their eyes were filled with so many emotions, the most identifiable being rage, and you couldn’t blame them. No one understood why you could live the rest of your life while their kids, their babies had died in the arena. But they didn’t know that you wished you had died with them.

You were dreading the visit to District 4, while you stood on the stage to read your small sheet of paper, people began talking. A couple of people, you’re assuming were the parents of Caspian and Marina respectively, threw things at you. Small stones, sticks, really anything they could grab. A sharper rock managed to nick your cheek, and you watched them all get apprehended while a swarm of peacekeepers made their way through the crowd, you spotted a familiar sandy blonde while you were being escorted away. Once again that nauseating feeling had returned.

The rest of the districts were fairly uneventful in comparison, but the hatred and melancholy followed no matter where you went. The tour had finally ended with a huge party in the heart of the capitol, you had tried your best to avoid going, but Granite insisted that you were the star and President Snow would be disappointed to have the party without you. You tried one last time to refuse and found a white rose on your doorstep, attached to it was a small envelope that reeked of rose perfume. You opened it and to your horror was an earring you knew belonged to your mother, you weren’t dumb, you knew that was a threat.

Which led you to this lavish party, swirling a glass of god knows what. You internally thanked your stylist for keeping your outfit relatively simple, though you did almost trip over the skirt on your way up the stairs and the button-up seemed to be buttoned far too high, it was better than the outfits made entirely out of ruffles of fabric. You decide you’d had enough spinning your drink and go to take a sip, “I wouldn’t if I were you.” You jumped, despite the outfit you’re sure you’d be able to take anyone in a fight right now. “Woah, sweetheart, it’s just me.” Finnick put his hands up in surrender, “See? No weapons, you’re a little on edge, you alright?” His voice held something you couldn’t quite pick apart, but in the moment you didn’t want to. He picked up a small vine of grapes, and looked at you expectantly. This man was a fellow victor, he had mentored the people who killed Gabbro and although it wasn’t inherently his fault, you needed someone to blame. “Don’t touch me, Odair.” His smile seemed to widen and he took the drink from your hands, pouring it on the ground. He gave the empty glass to a passing waiter with a polite nod. “What the fuck was that for?” You were seething and you wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smile off of his face. He tossed a grape up and caught it in his mouth. “It’s meant to make you throw up so you can continue eating, but if you want to be just like these capitolites you’re more than welcome to grab another glass.”

Although that sounded less than ideal you didn’t want Finnick Odair of all people to tell you not to do it. You sneered at him, “Thanks for the advice, darling, but I can take care of myself just fine.” His smile didn’t waver and he tossed another grape into his mouth. “Oh I know, I saw.” He saw? Of course he did, he’s a mentor, he’d be watching for his tributes. You felt the festering anger begin to rise, the anger at everyone who was watching the games, the people who were supporting it, and most of all President Snow himself. “If you know then, don’t come near me again, or else the next glass is hitting your skull.” You decided you didn't want to hear what he’d say next, and walked away. You saw a look of disappointment fall on his countenance, but you didn’t stay long enough to pick that apart. You don’t understand how he can be so okay with training other people, kids like him to kill other people. And honestly, you didn’t want to understand, all you knew was that you wanted out of these clothes. Hell, out of the capitol, and away from all of the disgusting people that inhabit it. Unfortunately, you don’t always get what you want, that much was evident when you arrived home to a path of white roses and a sickeningly sweet smell leading into your home.

I’m completely open to any criticism! But also please understand this is the first long fanfic idea I’ve ever had and executed, so be gentle 😭😭😭. Enjoy the fic! I have some big plans for this one and I hope you’ll stick around to read em!

#finnick x you #finnick odair #the hunger games #thg series #finnick odair x reader #no y/n #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #fanfic #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #ocs #enemies to lovers #not beta read #not beta'd

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inatimate-icarus · 4 months

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This is a prologue to a funny little story idea that I've had roosting in my lil noggin. It's an original story that follows my character Atlas and the trials he goes through as a clairvoyant, in this world a majority of the population have funny little powers and they all live on funny little floating islands. Please give it a read and let me know your thoughts!

A deep rumble erupted from below as soon as the corpse hit the ground, long fissures appearing in its wake. It wasn’t clear when the harpy was shot down that this was a punishment, the divine were disappointed, angry that what they’ve worked so hard to create was destroyed so easily. They had blessed some with power that humans could only dream about, gifts from the divine. But humans feared them. Fear something that is different from them, they had created a corpse out of divine creation.

They reap what they sow, the seeds of change were planted and they were beginning to sprout. Massive territories were lifted from the ground and many people perished from the debris alone, others falling from great heights. A majority of the floating island population are people with those divine gifts, though there were some humans that remained, they were silent.

Despite the seemingly random rise of the land, society rebuilt itself, people learned to adapt to living on the archipelago of floating islands. Though there were islands that began to prosper, there were a few that were unable to adapt, the lack of resources became overwhelming. There were often fights over material, or things as basic as food and water. Everyone saw their gifts as a means of survival, defense if their neighbors chose to turn against them.

The biggest island, Helius, has become somewhat of a capitol. Housing the busiest city and a majority of the population. Smaller islands, like Zephyrus, were almost like a ghost town. The island was further up and much colder than the rest, what little water the clouds provided froze almost immediately. Its people were getting desperate. Families had sent their children to scrounge for food, they were smaller, healthier, better suited for sneaking around to take food. Though it wasn’t uncommon to find small articles of clothing littering the gravel roads.

Little hands can only carry so much and the prints in the freshly fallen snow had been a dead giveaway. Shouts from a much larger man could be heard through-out the entire town, everyone recognized his voice. Philip Shaw, the baker, blessed with monstrous strength. He wasn’t known for being the kindest to those outside of his own family, those that are caught stealing from him are better off in a capitol cell. “Clarke! Mark my words, boy! If I catch ya I’m going to wring yer’ lil’ neck for the whole town to see!” Atlas Clarke had just turned 8, his smaller frame hidden behind a large pillar not far from the enraged man. He struggled to hold his breath, the two loaves of bread stuffed in his jacket didn’t seem too worth it now, he and his parents could go a couple more days without.

In the midst of his own thoughts, another voice joined in the shouting, this time directed at the baker. Atlas recognized the voice, Annie, an orphan who often roamed the roads. Her family had died off some months ago, starvation forcing them to succumb to illness. She didn’t look that far off either, but she always spoke as if that was the least of her concerns. She had created and nursed a small garden, giving the harvest to those who she thought needed it the most. But she was born without a gift, which led to her being shunned by the rest of the villagers. Despite their aversion toward her she continued to smile and turn the other cheek. Atlas loved when she was around, her long hair; though messy and covered in dirt, reminded him of the sun.

Atlas peeked around the corner, curiosity getting the best of him, and how he wished he hadn’t looked. “He’s just a child! Don’t you have a heart?” Annie was significantly smaller than Philip, but she shouted with a strength much bigger than him. “I have kids of me own to look after, runts like you are the least of my concern.” He was fuming, he began walking in the direction of the small footprints, but Annie stood in his way. “‘re you in on it?” A large meaty finger pointed accusingly at her chest.. “So what if I was?” She spoke with such confidence that it was hard to believe that she wasn’t much older than Atlas. Philips nostrils flared, he bent down to get in her face. “Or was it you that stole from me?” He didn’t give her a moment to speak before he was lifting her by her hair. Atlas couldn’t look away, mortified as he watched her spit in his face. She clearly showed no remorse, in fact she smiled as if she wasn’t risking her life. “Bite me.” “You filthy rat. Figures, with no parents around ya ‘aven’t got the brains for yerself.” He wiped the saliva from his cheek, what little chance of survival Annie had was gone. Philips’ other hand engulfed her tiny neck easily and within seconds she was gasping for air. “I’ll show you and every little pest the price of stealin’ from me.” Atlas watched the life leave her eyes, something that will haunt him for as long as he lives.

A gunshot, two, and then silence. Both bodies collapse into the snow, the blood from Philip freezing as soon as it touched the frigid air.

Soon a group of guards had come to assess the situation, Atlas kept his hand over his mouth to keep the sobs from escaping. The suffocating atmosphere became too much and he ran back to his home, he placed the bread on the table and continued to remind himself the words his parents had told him, that this is the price for survival. He kept telling himself this until the stream of tears had stopped flowing.

After news of Philip and Annie’s deaths had reached Helius, smaller islands soon got more help. They rebuilt the smaller rundown houses and gave everyone opportunities for work, children were no longer sent to search for food, but were sent to schools in bigger cities. Atlas stayed quiet, fearing the consequences of his actions. It wasn’t long after their blood was spilled that the visions started.

#original story #original character #new writer boost #fiction #modern fantasy

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