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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 15

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one is a little nerve wracking and angsty but there's a lot of fluff, too. ALSO THE BIG REVEAL.

Chapter Summary: The crowning ceremony has begun, but Snow's words drive Finnick to do something he may regret sometime in the near future.

Word Count: 5.0k

Season two is being written rn I'm about halfway through and It will be 20 chapters (I will not be posting them any time soon bc i swore i would finish some other series)

“I think that they were enraptured purely by you, Mercedes.” But your face still did not change, and he didn’t know why. Why were you so completely happy? He had known for certain from watching the games that you did not win them for glory or for stature. You won them to survive, to exact vengeance. So why were you filled with joy? “I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same.

Waking up felt achy the next morning. Like your entire body had been dragged through hell and landed in this bed, surrounded by comforts you’d never seen. It felt like you were slightly dehydrated, and most likely experiencing the strain of tight muscles from the night before. The way you’d cried, your entire body jolting like it was the end of the world, it was now affecting you.

You felt as if you were dying, but then as you came into clearer consciousness, you felt the warmth surrounding you, in the form of two arms that were tightly wound over and under your body, holding you close to his own that practically radiated heat. It was your reminder, that though you felt like dying, there was still something left for you here.

It wasn’t said that you had to be awake by a certain time, nor did anyone go over your schedule for the day ahead of you in any moments prior. It stands to reason that you don’t make any moves to get up. It’s why you don’t even stir past a few blinks of your still sleepy eyes, staring with great interest at Finnick’s resting features. He’s so beautiful and defined, but without those snarky expressions or that dazzling smile, he looks so peaceful and soft. If not for the light shining in gentle beams over his shoulder, you may not have awoken, but you’re glad you did. You find you rather like looking at him, especially so close and personally, in a way that few others have ever seen him.

After a few moments you allowed your eyes to close again, snuggling further into his chest, right between his shoulders. He had nice shoulders, you noted. They were broad and tan and strong.

He stirred not long after, tightening his hold around your body and pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. It was small and he thought that you weren’t even awake to feel it, but every time he did that you were slowly understanding why he did it. It was just a gesture, sweet and endearing, and a reminder. You’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him.

His fingers found solace in the strands of your hair, the length gliding through and falling over his palms. He came to a conclusion the night before, after the charade with the Flickerman Interview played out. He watched you go through that, alone on a stage, with only gawking capitol members surrounding you. Your trauma didn’t matter to them. To them it was drama, and they loved it… wanted to see more.

He kissed your hairline once more and started to whisper in your ear.

“We have to get up soon,” his voice was low and raspy from sleep.

You groaned in defiance, turning in his arms but not leaving them, instead pulling them closer around your front as you buried your face into his elbow.

“No we d-don’t…”

He sighed. He certainly did not want to get up. He thinks back to every moment during the games when his stomach turned with fear, his jaw staying in a state of constant tightness while watching you in that arena. His belief that you could win was never unbothered by the small voice in his head telling him you were going to die. He remembered the feeling of dread that would fill him to the brim every time he saw you close to death, knowing he’d never hold you like this. Never be able to kiss the crown of your head or pull you closer into the curve of his body where you seemed to fit perfectly.

Eventually, you both got up, because today was the crowning ceremony. The Victor was to accept her title and become the Capitol’s newest darling. You understood what came with it, and despite the horrors you knew you would face, you told yourself you were ready to take it on. This is the cost of escaping the arena with your life, when all others, including your allies, and best friend, did not.

Dalton had left your new dress and necklace in the apartment that morning, unable to stay for an interview he had himself. The stylist of the newest Victor, the current peak of popular fashion. The one who was capable of extenuating even the most desirable of the tributes.

You opened the garment bag that was hanging on a portable rack in the living room, reading the small note that was peaking through the sides.

For the mermaid… knock em’ dead. - D

You smiled and took a look at the dress, your eyes lighting up as you pulled the floor length get up out of the bag. It was a stunning turquoise with an iridescent top layer, pearls and fish beads sewn into the fabric. The edges of the bottom looked like crashing waves, and it flared out in comparison to the tightness of the top.

You took the dress back to your room, starting to get ready, but you realized you weren’t sure what to do with your hair. It was just down and around your shoulders right now, and you wished you’d had your mother’s expert hand in braiding it or twisting it into some sort of crown.

You sighed in frustration after your third failed attempt, and though you hadn’t been paying attention to your groans and noises of annoyance, Mags had, because her door had been open, right across from yours, open as well.

She leaned in the frame, watching you struggle for the last time before you threw the comb in your hand onto the vanity before you, leaning your head into your hands.

Mags stepped in right away, her silent approach calming when she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, reaching in front of you and picking up the comb you dropped. You lifted your head and met her eyes in the vanity mirror before smiling to her in relief.

“T-thank you.”

She made quick and gentle work of pulling the strands in her direction, twisting them together and taking small pins from the vanity to place them down. By the time she was finished, your hair was put into a sweet looking bun, small tendrils framing your face and behind your ears.

“It l-looks beautiful.”

She lightly patted your shoulder, helping you out of your seat and over to the bathroom to change into your dress.

Finnick had been waiting to leave for a few minutes now. He knew Mags had gone to the rescue when you were struggling with your hair, but he wasn’t sure why everything else had taken so long. Dalton didn’t usually take very long preparing any tribute that sat in front of him. He supposed it was because he had a lot more experience.

Dalton was technically not the stylist for the female tributes from four… but he was Finnick’s stylist, and friend, and when Finnick asked for him by name before the games, the man had no qualms about saying yes. He felt he would have to owe Dalton a favor of some sort, because in his mind, having him as your stylist saved your life.

He had gotten caught up in his thoughts, but turned on his heel as soon as he heard the sound of pearlized shoes clicking along the floor behind him. The dim lighting from the barely open shades provided a soft haze over the room, a glowing ambience, the reflection off the black tile allowing a certain allusion of floatation when you entered the room.

You looked beautiful, of course, but he noticed a confidence in your step he hadn’t seen since before the arena. You looked more powerful, more ethereal.

He wanted to say something when he met your eyes, wanted to open his mouth and feel actual words leave his mouth, but the longer he was locked onto you, the less his mind was able to work coherently. Words failed him completely, and rightfully so.

“I t-think Dalton outdid h-himself,” You beamed, giving a small and slightly clumsy twirl in the dress.

The first thing that came to his mind was the conversation Lukas had with Rodey in the arena, how he thought he’d fallen in love with you because of one night when you twirled in a dress, lighting up like a star in a dark sky. He recalled the exact words. Like some crazed wind turbine. You’d only twirled once, but he could only imagine it was the same as all those years ago. You had a spark of happiness in your eyes, even after everything. He caught a glimpse of your whole body before returning to your facial expression again.

“You’re beautiful,” he smiled, finally able to gather the two simple words he’d been searching for this entire time. You’re beautiful, you’re innocent, despite the games. You’re a force to be reckoned with in the best way possible. He wants to preserve this image of you, keep it untarnished, so he tucks it away in the recesses of his mind to return to in the future. “The color suits you.”

Your smile and slight giggle that erupted told him that maybe you were just as nervous as he was, and perhaps you were just more outwardly expressive.

“You look g-good, too.”

He didn’t even think about how he looked, if he was being honest. An older white knit sweater shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and embellished buttons on the side coming directly from both of your district.

“I’ve been known to clean up nice, sometimes,” he laid on the charm, trying his best to wear a facade before he even stepped outside. There was no use in keeping on in his stare like a poor love struck boy. He had a show to put on, today.

He offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation, glancing over at Mags who had only now made her presence known, following you all to the door. Arbin would probably already be at the party, knowing him. He needed to be where the noise was, the drama, and the excitement. A true capitol citizen, except for maybe he had compassion. More than any of the other higher up bloodsuckers did, anyway.

The ride to the center of the capitol was extremely wild, the shouts of fans outside the windows, they were screaming and shouting. You couldn’t bring yourself to dislike it, though you didn’t exactly throw yourself into the adoration, either. This was life, now. You didn’t have a choice or a way to change it, so you might as well just let the world go on around you.

The fanfare of triumphant music began the moment you stepped onto the concrete, the grounds and buildings around you decorated with things reminiscent of four. You were somehow always surprised when the capitol showed a new part of itself to you, as if you expected something different. They strangely romanticized the cultures of the districts, but would never even think about setting foot in any of them except for the ones that are well off.

You allowed yourself to feel important while roaming amongst the citizens. Making your way to the glorious stage, where a throne awaited and President Snow stood by. He seemed much more intimidating now that you were going to have to approach him.

The steps of the platform were steep, so you took your time going up them. You ignored the thought in the back of your brain telling you to stop stalling and to go faster, but by the time you completely shoved it away, you’d reached the top anyways.

You nodded to the man with a smile, forced. He came before you, offering his hand to be shaken. You took it right away, scared to anger him in any capacity. There was a story you’d heard in passing about the girl from last year who refused to shake his hand. She hadn’t had a happy moment since the end of her games.

“Congratulations, my dear. You are a worthy adversary.”

The cold blue of his eyes burned like ice in your veins, and you swallowed back the anxiousness that built up in your throat. You kept a pleasant look on your face but in an instant, you could tell he was reading every single inch of you, and knew what you were thinking. He knew you were afraid of him, and the smirk he wore as you responded was only confirmation.

“Thank you, s-sir.”

“You may be aware, you’ve had an effect on the people in the capitol,” he commented, turning away to take the crown of silver and pearl off of the stand beside him. If this were under different circumstances, you would have taken notice of the beautifully crafted headpiece that was made specifically to suit you. “They find you quite lovely.”

“They must have ap-pprecitated my stylist,” you tried to deflect, feeling even more the prey under a predator than before. The conversations with Finnick, the things he said you were going to be expected to do. It rushed past you, and yet… something felt stuck in your brain, because the weight didn’t hit you yet. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that as you turned, allowing him to place the crown on your head, your eyes met a pair of sea green ones, at the front of the crowd. He looked at you differently than any of these people did, or even had the capacity to. And it made you feel safe. Even in this situation of uncertainty and a path of future turmoil, he was going to be there, so you were going to be okay.

You smiled, genuinely, and for the first time since you arrived, Snow could not read you.

“I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same.

“Well,” Snow turned to catch where your eyes were locked, and now he held an even bigger smirk across his face. The information gained just from a single glance was ever beneficial to a man like President Snow. He hummed when he saw the strand of eye contact, nodding to himself. He didn’t like the way you were suddenly un-bothered by him. Perhaps there was something he could say to change that. “In any case, I hope we can be friends. Perhaps do favors for one another.”

Hearing the word favors made you still for a moment, and Finnick saw it. That was when your skin crawled, and you returned to your previous state of thinking, and feeling.

Something happened, he knew… but he wouldn’t ask. He’d let you tell him.

He just didn’t think you’d tell him so quickly. After coming off the stage, you didn’t even look at the people passing by, reaching for you and calling your name. It was all noise until you reached him. There was another venue to get to, anyway. You didn’t want to stay long in the first place.

“You alright?” He whispered, letting you take his arm once more as you both walked through the noise and back to the vehicle.

“I d-don’t know,” you breathed, trying to keep a neutral expression before anyone noticed. “I need to l-leave.”

“Mags,” Finnick turned to his side, where she stayed right by the both of you. “Help her to the car, I’ll find Arbin.”

“No,” you stopped in your tracks, grabbing a hold of his arm tighter. You were only now thankful for the loud ambience, covering the transparency of this dire situation. “Please, s-stay.”

Mags patted his arm, nodding her head back to the crowd as she dove back into it to retrieve the infamous Capitol rep of district four.

“I’m here,” he soothed, taking your hand and squeezing it as you kept moving to the car. There was a moment of tension when a few nosey Capitol citizens blocked the door he was trying to open.

“The mermaid! Oh darling you are even more stunning in person,” they rambled, reaching out to touch you, as indecent as it was. The woman’s hands found your other hand, squeezing it, but not in a comforting way like the man beside you. The woman’s husband seemed to eye you up and down from the moment you stepped before them. “Isn’t she just gorgeous?”

“Absolutely, she is!” The husband gave you a wink and your stomach turned again, the tightness in your chest was making the world spin. The moment the man placed a hand on your shoulder, you felt it ripped away, as quickly and carefully as possible.

“She’s unfortunately leaving now,” Finnick said flippantly, stepping between them and pulling the door open, making sure they were not going to touch you again. “Thanks for coming out.”

You climbed into the backseat quickly, hearing some gasps of dramatic proportion and words of contempt for Finnick.

When the door closed, you felt safer, but not safe. You weren’t quite able to decipher the quick change in your emotions. You thought you were fine, even with everything around you. Even with the thoughts of what you would have to endure… so what changed? Snow’s words were only those of confirmation to what you already knew was true. It didn’t change anything.

You couldn’t meet Finnick’s eyes anymore, and you had no clue as to what would cause your aversion to him. He’s helping you, he’s protecting you. You have no reason to be afraid of facing him.

“Mercy,” he took hold of your cheek, trying to gently convince you to look his way. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m n-not sure. Snow said some t-things. But I expected it…”

He looked at you with a sadder expression, one of pity and condolences, but that’s not what bothered you. What bothered you now was the thought that he was going to see you differently from how he did before, even how he does now.

If you were shoved into the life that he’d been forced into, would he think of you as tainted? Would he see the marks of capitol citizens and treat you as though you’re a ruined object? Surely, he couldn’t. He’s never looked at you with an ounce of contempt, not even after the arena. So then why do you feel so small and unworthy of his affectionate gaze?

“I know things w-will change,” you kept on, since he didn’t have any words to say. “I just d-don’t want others to look at m-me differently, if they find out.”

“Merc-”

“I don’t w-want you to look at me d-differently.”

Your eyes, lids and under eye coated with a pearly glaze that had been such a struggle for you and Mags earlier… it began to run with the wetness from the bleary corners and over your cheeks.

He let out a deep breath, his heart nearly shattering over how your bottom lip quivered with your stuttered words. He saw in you a person that would soon know exactly what it was like to be him, and he hated it. He tucked you into himself closely, holding onto the back of your head and caressing the exposed skin of your back.

“I know this… feeling. I used to feel it. Nothing ever made it better,” he explained, and as you breathed him in, you waited. Waited for him to tell you that there was no shame in being seen differently, waited for him to say that being seen differently didn’t change the way he would talk to you, or treat you... “But I promise you, none of that could ever make me see you differently.”

You pulled back to meet his gaze, soft and unwavering. You didn’t realize how you trembled in his arms until he ran his hands down the side of your shoulders and down to your elbows. He stilled your movement and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing with you like he did all that time ago before the arena.

“Snow has power over a lot, but he can’t change the way I feel about anyone, most of all you, Mercy.”

You smiled, the way he spoke opened a new trail of thoughts in your mind that were much more pleasant than the ones from before. How he felt about you, how did he feel about you? You assumed fondly, for the way he held you so gently… but there could be something more. Something that you never thought could be there with anyone. Your past experiences were never kind to you, but maybe this time the odds were in your favor.

“Thank y-you,” you sniffed, the smile you’d been wearing earlier in the day finally making a reappearance.

“Don’t thank me.”

“I h-have to. You’re the reason t-that I’m alive at all…”

“S’just my job,” he mumbled, but you both knew it wasn’t true. He’d never saved a tribute before. He never cared this much. And now, you being brought into this world he just escaped from, he knew what he had to do.

The scene started to return to normal when the car pulled up to the second destination.

Time for another show, but maybe this one didn’t need to end in tears.

“Alright,” he wiped under your eyes and readjusted your hair for you, making it look like nothing even happened. “I’ll stay close, make sure they keep their distance. You’re gonna be okay.”

You nodded, looking out the window at the anticipating guests of the large hall. It was like the crowning ceremony, but maybe a bit more rambunctious. The people, however, seemed a bit tipsy and unserious. It was a proper party, a celebration of their yearly tradition.

“It’s not too late t-to have a good t-time, is it?”

He let a genuine laugh escape him, and shook his head. He was still locked onto you, and a part of him didn’t even want to leave the car… but as usual, there were expectations.

“Not at all.”

He walked the halls with a chill down his spine. The last time he’d had a private audience with Snow, his life changed for the worst. This time he’d hoped to feel a bit more power at the prospect that he was the one seeking Snow’s presence. Only time would tell if that feeling of power ever made itself known, because standing before the large and ornate wooden doors, knocking rapidly, it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

The doors were opened by two house staff, and Snow awaited at his desk on the other side.

“Come in, dear boy,” he ushered with a smile, even backed by genuine joy, it looked menacing. “Have a seat.”

He did as he was told, turning and watching as the staff left them alone together, closing the doors as they left the room. The cold air of the night was seeping in through the open window, and it took everything in him not to visibly shiver.

“What can I do for you?” Snow offered, leaning back into his seat, that twisted, gleeful look never washing from his face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down together.”

Finnick nodded, trying to keep the air light, but knowing the second he started in that it would change. He tried not to grimace in the president’s direction, lord knows he wanted to.

“I have a few questions about the new victor,” he began, his shoulders turning slightly inwards and his posture failing him the second he mentioned you. He was terrified to be doing this. Terrified that it might backfire and you would be punished… but he wasn’t going to let what happened to him now befall you. Any means necessary.

“If you are wondering about any favors I may ask from Miss Blythe, I’m afraid it’s none of your concern…” Snow’s voice was solid, but not harsh. He spoke forwardly, as he always did, but he was intrigued in the slightest to hear out one of his most profitable victors. “You’ve helped her win the games and usually it is customary after that happens to forget about her affairs, so I ask, dear boy… What plagues you?”

He didn’t know if he should proceed. He was in the lesser seat, with the lesser circumstances. He always has been, victor or not. How foolish of him to think he had a chance at the upper hand. No power comes to those who sit beneath the Capitol’s boot.

He almost gave up, almost changed the subject… but then he remembered the look you’d given him just moments ago. That sweet, beautiful, shining glance you gave him, wearing a crown of silver and pearl upon your head. He will do whatever it takes to not let that gleam in your eyes be tarnished. It may have survived the hunger games, but he isn’t willing to chance putting it through years of abuse and torment.

“I know what you plan on asking her to do,” he remembers the way he was once asked, the chill again sweeping over his neck and down his back. He remembers the day it happened, at the end of his victory tour. He remembers his dread, but he continues, anyway. “I’ve come to ask if I could take her place.”

Snow tilted his head, a sort of funny expression was worn. He looked, for lack of a better word, puzzled. It was quite hard to surprise the president.

“I see.”

There was a moment where Finnick could see the gears turning inside Snow’s mind. He was curious as to the reasoning behind it, because surely, if he thought about it for this long, he would not deny him his request? Maybe he’d been returned the upper hand after all.

“I find it admirable, that you would do favors for me in place of another tribute. I do think, however, I may need remind you…” Snow leaned forward towards his desk, his eyes opening wider as to show his sincerity. “You are not quite as popular right now as Miss Blythe.”

“I’ve already taken that into consideration. I understand that a mentor’s role in a victory tour is limited, but I can change that.”

Snow’s intrigue did not fall, in fact it increased.

“Do tell, Mr. Odair.”

Finnick almost felt relief. Had the cards finally been stacked in his favor? He doubts it, because he’s not asking for just your freedom, he’s only asking to bear the task of your sexual slavery himself. There’s no such thing as ‘in his favor’ when it concerns Snow.

“I’ve been known to make a spectacle of myself, as you know. Last few years I’ve reigned it in, but I think it might be time for a comeback. Finnick Odair, the mentor who promised himself a victor, and won.”

It was an engaging concept, and a true one at that. Snow thinks he must be telling the truth, but of course, he’s not just one to assume.

“And did you?” His eyebrow raised along with his question, and Finnick got caught up in it… “Did you promise yourself Miss Blythe would win? Or just a district four tribute?”

Finnick doesn’t have an answer to that. Originally, yes, he’d promised himself any district four tribute would become victor… and after meeting the pair from the reaping, he thought it would be Lukas… but then you spoke, stuttering and stumbling through a single sentence, and his world collapsed.

“I promised myself a victor this year, and I kept that promise. Miss Blythe just happened to be the more, as you put it, popular one.”

Snow smirked, not smiled, smirked. He sat back into his chair again, his relaxed position led Finnick to believe that he was in agreement, and he was… but there were always going to be catches.

“If you can somehow outshine Mercedes Blythe on her victory tour, the responsibilities you wish to take on in her stead will resume. If you do not, you must understand it is a task for the most desired of victors to obtain,” he spoke evenly, as if this were some sort of high honor that victors were clawing at one another to have a chance at.

“I understand.”

“Good, that’s good.” There was one thing sitting at the edge of Snow’s mind, a question he was positive he knew the answer to, but wanted to hear it for himself. Words were so much more valuable to him these days. “I have one more curiosity I was hoping you could resolve.”

Finnick looked on, Snow’s position changing one last time. He leaned over the desk, holding a tight contact with Finnick’s eyeline. He was staring so ruthlessly, it didn’t even matter what Snow’s question was, he was already terrified to answer.

“Why would you, after just a year being relieved of your obligations, take up the place of the new victor?”

His stomach turned. There was no right answer here. If he lies, he looks indifferent. If he tells the truth, he’s given Snow information he shouldn’t have.

“I don’t think she can handle what’s expected of her,” he tried to mix the truth and lies. It wasn’t false, but it certainly wasn’t his primary reasoning. Snow knew it immediately.

“Mr. Odair, we’ve been friends a long time, you need not hide the truth from me… so I ask once more, why have you come to make this deal on behalf of Miss Blythe?”

“I want to protect her,” was his next attempt, but still not the answer Snow was looking for. The old man felt the boy was trying his patience, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard what he’d been after.

“Why?”

Finnick looked at the man’s eyes, cold and discomforting, despite the soft smoothness of his voice and tone. He knew that Snow already had the information Finnick tried to keep from him. He knew that there was no use in hiding it, and the only thing Snow wanted was to hear it aloud. Finnick wanted to leave this room, to get back to the celebration and see your gleaming smile again. He wanted to be in your presence and remind himself again why he was doing this. Even now, as he answers Snow by saying the words, he’s reminded.

“Because I love her.”

And Snow smiles again, the devious look and raise of his brow gives him away when he chuckles under his breath.

“Yes, I know you do.”

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

#finnick imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick x reader #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #finnick odair imagine #The hunger games #the hunger games fan fiction

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