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bruisedboys · 5 months

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jealous finnick?

jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!

finnick odair x fem!reader

Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.

“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.

“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”

Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”

Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil.

Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.

“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”

Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.

He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.

You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”

You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”

Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.

“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”

You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”

Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.

Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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mayfieldss · 5 months

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Labyrinth - Finnick Odair

Warnings: mentions of blood, trauma and abuse.

Summary; when you're name is called during the reaping, Finnick promises to stay by your side till the end.

"I thought the plane was going down. How'd you turn it right around?"

Finnick Odair woke up in a different bed that morning than the one he would sleep in tomorrow. Not that he'd be doing much sleeping either way. He felt as though he never slept anymore, not since he was 14, not since before he knew how to kill.

It was engraved in his mind, and when he looked down, if he stared at them long enough, he could still see the faint outlines of blood on his hands. It would darken the more he watched, fingers flexing with the red paint that had once been a part of someone. But he always managed to look away, to push past it. He'd made it through and never had to go back, except in his nightmares and memories.

You had never once been in the games, and you never wanted to be. It was every logical persons fear, and even with a district full of careers such as the one you lived, you never saw the nobility in killing. In being killed. Finnick Odair was a victor, someone who too young, had done what you'd never dreamed of doing. He'd had his time in the games, and he'd made it out the other side, and just as the capitol had done, you fell for him. You hadn't intended to, and when he returned from the games you never thought to bat an eye at the boy, but he'd sought you out, and won your heart in some way.

And so began a semi-secret relationship full of late nights, long talks and long kisses. Finnick waking with shouts, sweating through the sheets, each dream he had plagued with the memories of what he'd done. Years finding themselves passing before you managed to get Finnick to open up about what happened in the games, and what was still happening now that he'd won. But on occasion things were sweet. Sunny mornings with Finnick's arm around your waist, his lips on yours and his signature smile shining through.

It was a similar warm morning on the day of the reaping. The reaping you still had to participate in, for one more year. The reaping Finnick never had to be a part of again.

The sun was beating down to your surprise, and there wasn't a cloud to be seen, unlike in previous years. It was as though the earth was giving you a sign, "you'll be fine, it won't be you, one more of these inhumane assemblies and your name will be gone from that stupid glass bowl."

That's what Finnick had said to you more or less. He'd gone to every reaping, even after he was safe from the things, and had kept an eye on you, like a guardian angel. It was almost as if when he was there, your name couldn't possibly be read out on that stage. Almost.

Finnick is more than sure his chest has just been torn open, the words a hatchet to his heart, digging deeper and deeper as the seconds fly past. He's bleeding out, metaphorically, on the stage at which he stands and never more than now has he wanted to burn said stage to the ground. He watches, for mere moments as you wander up the steps to meet him, the tears on his cheeks matching the ones on your own. The one he loves chosen as tribute for the games he had yet to escape. The games he'll never escape. He wants to shout protest, he wants to grab you, pull you away from all of it, but as the salt from his eyes meets his lips, he can only mouth simple words to you. 'It's going to be okay.'

He can't stop any of this, can't pull you from the games, but he can take the only risk possible. The one he was trained to, but never had to take. So when the name of district fours unlucky boy is called, Finnick volunteers. He still has a year of eligibility left, just as you do, and the tears that flow from him when you scream can't be forced to a stop. You're shouting as he steps up beside you, beating your fists against his chest as he pulls you in.

"What are you doing?" it's half scream half sob, your voice cracking with heartbreak as a man at the microphone announces the end of the reaping. "What are you doing—no, no he's not a volunteer, it can't work like that, it doesn't!" Your shouts are piercing, frown deep and secure, vision blurred by tears and pain. But Finnick has volunteered, and as the capitols golden boy he has no doubt Snow will allow the engagement. The president had been selling him off for support for years, and there was no way the white haired man was stopping now.

The peacekeepers by the edges of the stage moved forward like zombies, attempting to pull you from Finnick's grasp and take you to your next destination. But Finnick isn't ready either.

"Don't." His voice is full of force when the peacekeepers lay hands on you, "Give us a minute, just one." He doesn't expect it to work, you're still on the stage with him, the scene a public spectacle, though many of the people are being escorted away by now. Finnick doesn't know if the broadcast is still going, if the capitol can see just how much pain he's in, just how much hurt they've all caused. He can't bring himself to care either way. The peacekeepers, to his surprise, have taken a step back, though they're still close by. The doors to the justice building stand open, a dark yawning mouth waiting to be entered.

"I wasn't going to let you go in there alone." his voice is gentle, and he can feel his hands shaking as you pull back from his embrace. Your eyes look empty, broken in a way he's never seen them before.

"You made it out once, they won't let you do it again." your chest heaves with heavy breaths that you don't bother trying to suppress as the man you love brings a hand up to your cheek.

"I'm getting you out of this alive, I don't care how I get it done." it's a hopeless thing to say, Finnick knows that even if he were to get you out alive, you would still be subject to the suffering that comes after the game itself. "And when you get out," He's lowered his voice to a whisper only you can hear, his forehead pressed to yours. "you're going to get yourself far away from here. You're going to run and never look back. Don't take the house in victors village, don't take the money. Just run. You're going to run."

His muscles are tense and his heart pounds as your arms slide back around him. He hasn't lost you yet.

"We're getting out of this together, or I'm not coming out of the games at all." You mumble, voice still shaking against his shoulder. He hates the way you say it, like it's a definite that you'll both survive. That hope—the hope you give him—is deadly. But he runs with it anyway, despite his doubts and fears. It's all he has left, other than you.

"Together?" He tries for a smile, but it dies on his lips as the peacekeepers shuffle forward once more. Time is up.

"Together." You whisper back.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu @hiya-itsamber

HUNGER GAMES TAGLIST: empty

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bonesandchalamet · 4 months

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in this world, it’s just us — Finnick odair

masterlist | pairing: Finnick odair x reader

summary: in a world where hunger games don’t exist anymore it’s just you and Finnick

warnings: fluff

a/n: finally writing for finnick 🤭

you can hear his breath escape his lips, it’s faint, but it’s all that matters. he’s alive in your arms and in your bedroom.

nights were never the same, consisting of some form of him muttering incoherent words, legs thrashing, and thick sweat glistening against the sheets. the hunger games haunt him, even in a world where he’s safe.

there’s no president snow, there’s no more kids being hunted by others. the odds were in everyone’s favor, and people could sleep well again. except those in their respected districts victors villages.

the soft grunt that escapes his lips indicates he’s awake now. he rolls carefully onto his side, almost like he doesn’t want wake you, but you’ve been awake for some time. reflecting on what the nights could’ve been if finnick never was picked at such a young age.

“you’re doing it again.” he mutters, you feel him shift closer to you, his warm clammy skin pressed against yours, “you’re thinking about the if’s.”

he tsk’s you, and yanks the covers off your bodies to reveal the cool air of the house. it feels nice, after tossing and turning in the heat trapped sheets, you allow yourself to stretch out against the mattress and watch finnick rise for the day.

no day was ever the same, but finnick needed a new task everyday, or else he’d go insane. he needed to occupy himself from the loss and maybe even the ache. you never knew, he was a closed book about his experiences.

you watch him gather around to fish, a typical morning routine despite the overflowing amount of food in your house. you never objected or asked him not to go, it was the one thing finnick enjoyed and he could now do so freely. who were you to stop him?

“can I join you?” the words slip your mouth without a second guess, and he’s stopping in his tracks. you’ve never taken up much of an interest in fishing, not since you didn’t have to do so anymore, but you loathed sitting around waiting for him to return. plus, it gave you something to do as well.

“you better hurry.”

scurrying out of bed, you find yourself rushing with the sunrise and finnicks personal clock, but by the time you’re down by the water, no one else is even there and the sun is just starting to rise.

“what’s the plan?” you ask, turning to face him he’s got a trident in his hand, his typical choice of weapon that somehow made it back to district four along with him.

“we hunt, we go home, and then we eat.” he says offering a small smile before moving carefully and slowly into the water. he moves with such precision, careful not to alarm the fish. any movement and they’ll scatter along. you watch him hunt for awhile until it’s your turn, you don’t come up as lucky as he does, but he still applauds the three fish you killed.

“now we eat and save some for dinner.” he smiles, content with the couple hours of work done. without telling, it’s most likely noon and your stomach was reminding you of the lack of food in your stomach.

the hike home doesn’t take long and Finnick is cooking while you shower. the warm water trickles down your back, soothing away the morning worries. you take longer than you normally do, just to enjoy the silence your mind finally gives you before turning off the water.

emerging from the shower, he’s leaning in the doorway. a cocky smile against his lips that if it weren’t for his beauty, you’d attempt anyway to erase it.

“you think about me in there?”

“never in a million years would I think about you in my shower.” you pick up a soft towel, running the fabric all across your body and through the ends of your hair. out the corner of your eye, you can still see that smile. the smile that every girl falls for when finnick would enter a room. he’s easy to like, bright eyes, beautiful smile, golden blond hair, and an ego so big sometimes it’s adorable, other times? not so much.

“you’re awful at lying. it’s actually one of your worst traits.”

“and you’ve got an awfully big ego, it’s one of your worst traits.” you fire back with a smile on your face leaving him to roll his eyes and tell you lunch was waiting for you.

In this world, it's just us

You know it's not the same as it was

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair blurb #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fic #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games fic #the hunger games blurb

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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He Knows Better | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick tells himself not to get close to you, because what is the point? But when you survive your games he finds that he can't stop thinking about you. When he finally comes to see you, you're in pieces, and he swears to himself he will put you back together, no matter the costs. Find part 2 here: Should've Known

Content Warnings/Tags: Mentions of prostitution/sex trafficking, angst, Finnick deserving better, crying, bad representation of a panic attack, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by Anon: I loveeeee love love love your Finnick fic. It was the perfect mix of sweet and so angstyyyyy !! I'm having constant Finnick brainrot 😭 I was wondering what you think about writing a finnick × reader fic sort of loosely based on Hozier's "It Will Come Back" where reader is maybe a tribute or another Victor and the first person to show Finnick softness and kindness without asking for anything in return in so long and he's like "dont let me in with no intention to keep me" and "dont be kind to me" and he just is totally feral and obsessed with the reader ? You're such a talented writer !! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: There is this Dutch expression which goes ‘the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ loosely meaning the hidden meaning is revealed and I couldn't for the life of me think of the English equivalent that made sense to me, so, well, I hope the story is coherent. As usual, divider by @saradika

He remembers first seeing you, you were so young, but to be fair, so was he. In previous years he had always become quick friends with the tributes he was supposed to mentor, how could he not? But it didn't take him long to figure out that they never made it back, and while the company was nice for a while, the hurt in the end wasn't worth it anymore. There's something about you that he can't quite place, but it doesn't matter, because he's not going to get attached. When you first stepped into the training hall you didn't look scared, you didn't even look excited, no, you looked like you had made peace.

He didn't get to talk to you much, you spend most of your training with Mags, not learning how to fight, but learning how to survive. And every time he watched you, he watched how your eyes lit up when learned how to filter water, he watched how proud Mags was of you each time. And he felt something tugging at him, he felt a need to get to know you. But he knew better.

Because what were the odds, he had seen this before, he had done this before. No, he shouldn't get attached to you. And yet, for the first time after returning from his own, he found himself watching the games. Watching the tributes become fewer and fewer, hoping, praying, that you'd make it through. The fewer left the more desperate he became. You've gotten this far, don't let the luck run out just yet. He saw how your last opponent fell, and he saw your face in the centre of the screen, of virtually every screen. And once again, you didn't look excited, you looked like you had found peace again, and maybe, just maybe, he let himself believe he could too, that you could show him.

He didn’t go see you after, it wouldn't be of any use. What more did he have to offer you, you did not need a mentor anymore. He had made peace, he had made peace with never seeing you again. So what was the difference if you were alive or not? That's what he thought, if he gave in now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go, it would keep coming back.

It wasn't until a few months later when someone knocked on his door, and in a sleepy haze, he opened it without thinking. He had spent the night at the capitol, and he never managed to get much rest after. Usually, when he had been gone for the night, Mags would come to check in on him, and have Valerian tea with him. He doubted it actually worked, but the effort was enough to brighten his day. So he opened the door, but it wasn't Mags, it was you. Your face was fuller, it had more colour, but the bags under your eyes were still there. Would Mags bring you Valerian tea as well? No, no he needed to stop thinking about you. The last time he had actually seen you was when you won. He had forced himself to avoid you ever since, he hadn't been completely sure why anymore, but now he knew again. The way you looked at him gave him hope, hope he couldn't afford. “What do you want” he asked, he sounded upset, and in a way he was, but the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed made him regret it.

And so he opened the door further, stepping aside, and you didn't need more of an invitation before you walked in. You took a seat at his small kitchen table, and he decided it would be impolite not to join you, so he sat down as well. He was about to talk, but you beat him to the punch.

“Snow came to see me.” There is was he thought, the reason, everyone always had a reason. Still, he found himself allowing you to continue, wanting to hear your voice again, even if it brought bad news.

“I talked to Mags about it, but she said I should come see you, so here I am.” You chuckled, but the situation was not something that asked for it, must be nerves, he thought, but why were you nervous, surely he didn't make you nervous.

“Look, I don’t want to bother you with my problems Finnick, I know you're dealing with enough yourself, but I don’t know what else to do.” Your eyes glossed over, and you looked like you were about to start crying, but you didn't. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but what was there to say? And so you two sat in silence, he was looking at you, he was memorizing your face. This was the last time he would let himself see you. He didn't want to get close to you, and with how mesmerizing you were to him, he knew better.

And yet, as days passed, he found himself thinking of you. Whenever he needed comfort, he thought of you, the way you smiled at him when he told you a nervous joke. He could get lost in the memory of your eyes, and more often than not, he did. Every day he spent without seeing you made his heart hurt.

Without thinking, he found himself walking to your door. It was like he wasn't in control of his own feet. He was in constant agony with himself. He wanted to be with you, but your kindness was one he couldn't afford, because it had the power to break him. He knocked on your door, not even aware he was doing so until he heard the sound echo back to him. He heard rustling, but he didn't hear you approaching the door, so he knocked again, and for good measure, he decided to call out. “Y/n? It’s me, it’s Finnick”. He heard someone approach the door at that, and a little bit of hope sparked inside him that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, but he knew better.

The door opened, but it wasn't you that he came face to face with, it was Mags. She was standing in your hallway with a sad smile on her face, and she didn't say anything, but she looked to the stairs on the right end corner. He didn't need any more encouragement, and he sped up them, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door he was in front of, but there wasn't an answer. But when he listened more closely, he could hear crying coming from the other side. You were crying. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but whatever it was that had caused this, he swore to himself he would fix it, even if it broke him.

And so he entered the room, opening the door softly so as not to startle you, but it didn't matter. He saw you in the corner, you had pulled your knees to your chest and he couldn't see your face from where you had hidden it, but his heart broke over it nonetheless. He walked towards you, testing the waters, testing his luck. He was scared for you, but mostly, he was scared you wouldn't want to see him. When you heard him, your head shot up to look at him. The way in which your eyes were bloodshot and swollen made him want to punch a hole in the wall next to you. The way your voice cracked when you said his name made him want to curl up right next to you. he got closer to you, kneeling down in front of you. Allowing you to take the next steps on your own time.

After a few minutes, you had slightly calmed down while he was tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You spoke to him, but you didn't look him in his eyes.

“They’re bidding on me Finnick, they’re bidding on me like I’m something to possess”

The feeling of dread that came over him was something he had never felt before. He thought he had gone through all someone could. He thought there was nothing that could hurt him anymore in a way he didn't already, but he had been wrong.

He was willing to do anything for you to be spared from this, but he knew it wasn't any use.

He knew better. And so he did all he could, taking you in his arms and whispering reassuring words, until your crying and your shaking stopped, and you seemed at peace again.

He had tried himself to get away from what snow had wanted, what the capitol had wanted, he tried everything he could think of, but he couldn't get away from it. He had made peace with the fact that people always wanted something from him, and maybe that's why he couldn't get you out of his head, because you were the only person that was at peace with him, without anything more, just him. So he told you the only thing he could. He told you he’d be there for you, that you’d get through it together. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he knew it was what you needed to hear, it was what he had needed to hear, except there had been no one to tell him. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if you needed him.

But he won't shut you out again, he knows better.

Part 2: Should've Known

#finnick odair angst #finnick x reader #finnick angst #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #hunger games #hunger games angst #angst #finnick odair fic #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair sad #finnick odair imagine #finnick fic #finnick fanfic

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venuslore · 3 months

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finnick who is possessive and overprotective and needs to let everyone know that you’re his ! finnick who leaves trails of hickeys along your neck in places you can’t cover up to purposely do so ! finnick who will hold your hand the second someone so much as looks your way ! finnick who questions everyone’s motives and intentions towards you because he knows you’re beautiful and that people like to take advantage of that ! finnick who practically shoos off unwanted company so to not waste your time ! finnick who will do everything in his power to make sure you are provided and cared for ᰔ

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#finnick odair ᰔ #finnick odair concept #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fic

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irissfoot · 4 months

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actually devastated sapphicdrpepper’s acount got deactivated and on christmas two

#finnick odair #pomegranate seeds #finnick odair fic #finnick odair x reader #sapphicdrpepper #finnick pomegrante seeds #finnick odair pomegranate seeds #reactivate sapphicdrpepper

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raeofsunrise · 2 months

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hey!! can i request finnick enamored with a reader who plays hard to get? and she’s desirable like finnick and they met in the capitol after snow tried to push the image of them being king and queen with equal levels of desirability? thanks!

showing my cards ☆ finnick odair x f. reader

summary: never would you let someone like finnick odair into your life, but finnick odair was an exception.

warnings: mentions of sex trafficking, finnick’s trafficking, no use of y/n, poorly written dialogue, capitol issues, first meeting cliche, reader’s hard to get, mentions of alcohol, i dont know if i love this or hate it

1k words

~・☆・~

you’d never liked it easy. whether it was intentional or not, you always found a way to make things harder then they had to be. maybe it was your upbringing, maybe it was just the way you were, but you never found the right person.

even as queen of panem.

it wasn’t anyone’s fault, truly. growing up was about survival. the games and everything after that was about survival. but god, how you wished that you could love someone.

it wasn’t like your life was incomplete without love, but you’d never found that someone to love. it was never…right. always some downside to the person.

it didn’t help that you changed your mind right as someone’s hand found their way into yours, or someone’s lips found their way to your lips. you wanted to live in it, to revel in the feeling of passion someone was giving to you, but it never clicked. and you hated it. it made you feel uncertain.

you never let that uncertainty show though. that’s how you got your title: “the poker faced jewel of panem. never letting her real feelings thorough. so misleading. so mystical. so hard to get.

and you played along. better to let them think you’re a person who leads another on because of no particular reason than to let them see through your facade you’d put on for so many years.

unfortunately, wittiness and mysteriousness can also earn you another title; desirable. and no urge is too nauseating to fulfill in the capitol.

parties, where the drinks tasted like a perfume your stylist had selected for you that evening. dinners, where even outside of a camera’s view, you had to entertain. to put on a performance.

it was at one of these parties, though, where you’d been invited with no certain reason why. the only other victor at this party was the only one in the capitol who was as beloved as you.

it had been four years after your “victory” in the hunger games, so you knew everyone fairly well. you just never got around to introducing yourself to finnick odair. seemed odd enough too, seeing as you were neighbors in district four. he was rarely home, though. a situation you knew all too well.

you decided tonight could be the night. as good as any other capitol party. you waited for when he finally got out of the grasp of a very handsy customer, who looked like she’d been downing glass after glass of alcohol.

you turned around, preparing yourself to walk up to him, only to turn around and be met with the sight of eyes that could make the waters part.

and for a split second, it felt like this was how you were supposed to live. in each other’s presence.

you decided to speak first. “hello, odair.” you say.

“looking for some fresh air tonight?” he asks, walking towards the entrance of the building.

strangely, you already felt comfort in his foreign presence. feelings of an unknown name started to bubble up, and you couldn’t allow that to happen.

“why? trying to get me alone so you can dazzle me into dating you?” you reply, having absolutely no idea where the cold undertone came from.

finnick knew of your repuation, but he also knew that every victor has their role. whether it be the crazy one, or the one with nothing to lose. it was something he knew all too well. but still, hearing your sarcastic remarks and replies made his heart flutter a little more each time. so he kept pushing.

he put a hand on his chest, feigning injury. “ouch,” he says. “seems like someone’s enjoying the party.”

you let out a scoff. “yes, absolutely ecstatic about my being here.” you say, walking ahead of him and outside.

you make your way to a sort of balcony, overlooking a garden in the gorgeous front yard of someone’s mansion. you pitied the person that would have to clean up after this.

finnick walks up next to you, leaning his arms against the railing, mirroring you.

“what is the queen of panem thinking about?” he says, sarcasm and humor delicately laced into his voice.

you turn your head to look at him. you were about to speak, but the sight that was in front of you was jarring.

you knew finnick was gorgeous. it was a known fact throughout panem. but cameras did not do him justice. you never understood why he needed all the fancy lighting the capitol provided. the moonlight cascading down his face and drawing out his features was certainly enough for you, you thought.

remembering the question he had asked god knows how long ago, you brought yourself back to reality. “she thinks about why finnick odair is asking what she thinks about.” you say, turning your head away from him and looking down.

he laughs. “touché.” he says, trailing off.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh. you don’t know why, there’s just something so intimate about the whole interaction.

you decide it’s your turn to ask a question. “how’re you enjoying the party?” you ask.

“party? could’ve sworn it was a funeral with how many people there look like they could’ve witnessed the rebellion.” he says, earning a laugh from you.

finnick swears that making you laugh within the first ten minutes of your meeting is one of his biggest accomplishments. he’d been enamored with you since he’d heard your laugh that night.

you’ve never known what it’s felt like to have someone go this far without making you change your mind, so you let the conversation happen.

you’ve heard of finnick’s reputation. his alleged personality, his habits. you’d never let someone like finnick into your life. but finnick himself could slide.

maybe, just maybe, you’d show your cards for finnick odair.

hii!! really hope you like what i did with the request! i tried to put in every component but i may’ve gone a bit astray! please leave feedback it’s greatly appreciated ☆

#sunrise writes #finnick odair #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fic #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine

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inkluvs · 2 months

Note

xoxo - send me a little concept / thought with a character i write for and i’ll expand or write u a blurb

omg finnick with a golden retriever reader who spends all day on the beach collecting pretty shells and rocks for him while he swims … and when he comes ashore theres a huge pile of treasures waiting for him 😭

omggg i’m imagining r bringing a little bowl w them to the beach to collect shells and little pearls and u try to hide it under ur towel and he’s like, “honey what’s that?” and ur like. nothing <3 so he lets go of it knowing u can’t keep a secret for long anyways <3 and all day ur roaming around the beach and bringing ur bowl with u <3 collecting oysters and shells, taking care to wipe them off and make them all pretty and shiny <3 and it gets to the point where the bowls like overfilled so u have to leave it in one place and come back to it w the shells you collected <3 and when finnick comes ashore he’s running straight for you, picking u up and spinning u around, laughing together as he asks u what you’ve been up to <3 so u pull out the little bowl and his grin gets wider, all teeth and pinched cheeks <3

#i love him can u tell #ivy’s inbox 💌#mal <3 #{kisses for 800}#event.xoxo #finnick odair (ivy’s version)#thgluvs #ivy is writing !#finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair headcanons #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fic

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captainlunaxmen · 4 months

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All for the Cameras

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fic #the hunger games fic #the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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thinking about finnick odair and casual dominance !!

him taking your jewellery off for you before you sleep because you always forget to, and even if you do remember he’ll always offer to help. (he likes how his fingers on your skin always result in goosebumps and a shiver you can’t quite hide.)

him retrieving things off high shelves when you can’t quite reach them, a hand on you lower back as he stands behind you, easily snagging whatever you wanted and handing it to you with a lopsided smile. the soft “thank you, finnick,” you give him is enough to make his heart swoop.

him making sure you’re eating and drinking properly, and then making you something to eat if you haven’t. speaking of, he always wants to do all the chores while you “sit there and look pretty for me, sweetheart.” and if you try to help he’ll just manhandle you back to your seat, hands firm on your shoulders. “do you ever listen?” he’ll ask you, a brow quirked, something like affectionate amusement in his smile.

he’s a little bossy but only because he cares! and you don’t mind it very much (or at all, really) you kinda like when he tells you what to do <3

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lucy-gray1075 · 3 months

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finnick and annie probably had their own “you love me, real or not real moment” before he was stripped away from her.

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after.

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here?

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy.

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena.

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.”

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep.

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open.

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead.

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so.

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you. He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot.

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft.

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out.

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you.

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him.

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it.

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark.

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless.

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face.

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?”

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't.

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

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destourtereaux · 2 years

Text

home is a person - finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

summary: Y/N and finnick have been best friends since birth. when both your names are drawn for the third quarter quell, you must figure out a way to survive, or if it comes down to it, for finnick to survive.

wc: 2.4k | see request details here.

follow @lovebirdupdates to join my "taglist"!

GIF by @thranduilsperkybutt

a/n: kinda inspired by my dear olive (@retvenkos) bc she is just a superb writer for SO many fandoms. how do we even compare?

Some people believe in soulmates. Others don’t. But you? You had already found yours: goodness in the shape of a human named Finnick Odair.

The two of you had been friends since you were born and Finnick was two. Your mothers had been the best of friends and it had simply passed onto your generation. You and Finnick had grown up together, standing by each other through thick and thin. His sarcasm was never lost on you, and your wit made him every time.

When Finnick had to go to the Games, you were hysterical – screaming and sobbing, kicking and punching at the Peacekeeper who had to come escort you out of the crowd. And when he came back, you thought the worst had passed, that everything would go back to normal again, and it had… but only for 5 years. Then your name had been drawn, and Finnick had hugged you so tight it took three Peacekeepers to pry him away.

But you had survived too – emerged victorious. But at night, the memories came back. Endless nightmares that plagued your sleep, refusing to let you rest as the screams of those you killed tormented you. The only thing that helped was the weight and warmth of Finnick’s arms – almost like a shield against your trauma. He understood you wordlessly, and it had always been like that. The two of you against the world.

A year after you returned from the Games, your friendship evolved into its final stage, and feelings that were originally completely platonic slowly morphed into butterflies in your stomach and blushes on your cheeks. And when Finnick had asked you to be his girlfriend, it felt like you could finally see the sun again, like the clouds were clearing up and you had been given something to live for. Until now.

You turned the TV off once the dreadful Capitol reporter had finished announcing the theme for Panem’s third Quarter Quell: a Hunger Games between victors. You were silent in your disbelief. Not once had you ever thought you would have to return to the arena, and so soon, too. You were barely twenty-one, and you had won the games when you were seventeen, just four short years ago, not even half a decade.

Your family turned around to face you, their eyes melancholy, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel much of anything to be honest. You should’ve known the Capitol wouldn’t let anyone escape their twisted little games.

Without a word, you ran outside, shoving open the door to your house. Finnick was already there, having hurried over as soon as he heard to check on you. When you saw him, you burst into tears, as if his very appearance had broken apart the dam holding back your fear. You collapsed onto him, shoulders wracked with your sobs.

“Y/N. Y/N. Look at me. It’s likely they won’t even pick us. Our District has a number of victors to choose from. Don’t be so scared, darling.”

He reaches a hand to your trembling cheek, wiping away the tears.

“But Fin… I can’t go back. I can’t- I just. And I can’t lose you either. Not an option.”

“I know, love, I know,” Finnick replies, as you nestle your head into the crook between his neck and shoulders. The two of you stay there for hours, as you cry yourself out and Finnick strokes your hair gently. “And remember,” Finnick whispers quietly so no one but you can hear, “I’ll always be with you. No matter what happens. You’re my forever.”

******

It was as though life thought you two had had it too good these past few years - and now you needed to pay it back in bad luck. Both yours and Finnick’s names had been drawn consecutively.

But even as you felt your world crashing down upon you, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing you and Finnick would still be together.

And you knew — if it came down to it, you would kill yourself so he would live.

******

The interviews were over, and you felt the shock reeling through you from the victors’ shared display of rebellion. You let go of the hand belonging to the tribute on your right with a solemn nod, but you grasped the one in your left hand even more tightly.

“Princess, I’m losing circulation here,” Finnick teased, earning a glare from you as you wrenched your hand from his grasp.

The young man chuckled at your displeasure, pulling you into his side and muffling your protests. “I’m kidding. Please hold my hand again — come on. You know I was kidding!”

If only moments like these could last forever.

******

You wondered why the gods were so cruel. The arena turned out to be a clear lake surrounded by woods, putting you and Finnick at a distinct advantage. At best, you would gain the jealousy and rage of other tributes, and at worst, it would end with the two of you, each unafraid to self sacrifice for the other.

At least you had allies — Katniss and Peeta, who reminded you a lot of yourself and Finnick, and Johanna. But even though the group of you were relying on each other at the moment, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that an alliance could only last so long in the Hunger Games.

Your combined sponsors had sent you five a number of gifts, including food, and a spout for water from the trees. You had to give Katniss credit for figuring that out — she had definitely saved your lives.

Day after day, you count the cannon booms, until there are only 10 tributes left. Beetee and Wiress had been adopted into your group, much to the distaste of Johanna. The seven of you had grown closer over your time together, you and Katniss especially. She felt like a little sister to you; an extremely independent and brave little sister. You two would often share stories about your district and your families. It helped a lot, being able to talk to someone who understood how you felt.

When you and Katniss had your talks by the beach, Finnick and Johanna were off on their own. He told you he was finding water, but you knew they were hiding something.

******

On Day 15, you could tell Finnick was nervous. His whole demeanour had changed. He went from a solid cornerstone to a ball of restless energy.

“What’s wrong, Fin?” you probed, “you need to tell me. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I love you, Y/N. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that. I love you too. But what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“It’s better if you know as little as possible. You’ll be safer. Trust me, love.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed, but you did trust him. That much had always been true.

For the rest of the morning, the alliance works together on building Beetee’s trap, hoping it would take care of the District 2 tributes.

Suddenly, a dagger whizzes past your year, forcing you to take a gulp of air as you dodge. Panting, you send a signal up into the air — meant to alert Beetee. But when nothing happens, you realize something has gone very, very wrong.

You send a spear soaring back to where the dagger had come from, slamming deep into a boulder. A scared Glimmer jumps out from behind and grins smugly at you.

With not a moment to spare, you sprint toward Beetee's hideout and spot him bleeding out on the forest floor, a red smile across his throat. You let out a scream — a mix of grief and rage. And that’s when it happens: an enormous explosion, red hot and booming, rocks the arena, and a hovercraft descends from the clouds like a gift from god.

I’m dead. They’re taking me to heaven, you think.

The last thing you remember is Finnick jumping into the hovercraft and pulling you up. You’re clawing at his arms, desperately trying to get on, before a pair of stronger arms yank down on your airborne legs, dragging you all the way down to hell.

******

And hell you entered. When you woke, gone were the scorching sun and shimmering waters of the arena. It was replaced by a glaring white room; even your clothes were pure white. You lifted yourself out of the hospital bed and made your way to the window on your left. There, in the neighbouring room, was Johanna, but she was almost unrecognisable. Her hair had been torn out in patches and her skin was a pale, ashy grey. You audibly gasped, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of your friend. It would be you next.

******

Finnick was beside himself with anguish. How could he have let you slip from his grasp like that? Slip right into the clutches of the demons from the Capitol. He clenched his fists so hard he drew blood, crescents of red on his palm that reminded him of his failures.

You were his person. You had been his since he was a tiny little toddler watching his mom coo over you in your mother’s arms. From then to now, the two of you had always been inseparable. He had protected you from the bullies at school and you had always taken good care of him when he didn’t care about himself.

He had let you down. Why had he been so focused on the stupid plan? Curse Haymitch. The world be damned. All that mattered was you. He should’ve saved you first.

The next day in the District 13 cafeteria, Finnick pushed his grey slop around in his bowl, avoiding eye contact with Katniss.

“Look up, Finnick. Now,” the girl suddenly commands, her voice the most authoritative he had ever heard.

He looks up instinctively, eyes catching on the TV screen. It was you. You and Peeta. You were in a white frock, legs crossed and an arm on your chair. Your lips were locked in a sickly fake smile as you delivered your message: “Katniss Everdeen. Finnick Odair. District 13 cannot and will not protect you for long.”

“Surrender, and you can still see the light of day,” Peeta adds, his words stilted, almost as though it pained him to speak.

As the screen began fading to black, a scuffle broke out. Your face, pale and frightened, gazed directly at the camera as you forced out a final message, “District 13. Here today, dead tomorrow.”

A crack was heard as you fell to the ground, and the signal cut off once and for all. Finnick was left staring at his own reflection in the dark screen, tears streaming down his cheeks.

President Snow, however, wasn’t affected by emotion, and she took your warning seriously. Ushering everyone down into the deeper floors, she shut the bunkers down completely and braced for impact.

By morning, more than 10 bombs had hit the District — each rattling the rooms. But Finnick paid all this no mind. He was too busy replaying your brief appearance on the TV. How skinny and sick you looked. The dark circles under your eyes were telling, and you looked so scared. It killed him. He didn’t deserve to live, while you died slowly by the day.

******

Every day for the next month, Finnick and Katniss got up early and knocked on the President’s door. He pleaded with them to please send a rescue team. To get you and Peeta and Johanna out of there. Out of hell.

On the last day of the month, the President agreed. “If this is what it takes for our little mockingbird to perform again, we’ll do it. But you’d better perform, Everdeen, once we save your little boyfriend.”

******

Both Finnick and Katniss were deemed unfit for the rescue team. Something about psychological and emotional instability. Finnick raged against this, but was drugged by a sheepish Gale. “We’ll be back before you know it, man. And your girl will wake you up.”

Finnick held onto those words like a dying man as he slipped under.

When he woke up, the compound was a mess of noise. Shouts came from everywhere. “Get the stretcher!” “Get me more of that endorphin!” and finally, “Y/N’s up. Someone! Go and find Finnick. Now.”

At this, Finnick jolted upright, jumping off of his bed. He rammed the door open and ran into a doctor coming to get him.

“Mr. Odair, I must warn you. Please don’t be so brash when you’re with her. Ms. Y/L/N has been through a lot this past month. You would do well not to alarm her.”

Finnick nods, breathless as he speeds up his pace. He turns a corner, then another, and there. He sees you at last. Your hair strewn across the pillow propping you up, a doctor examining your irises.

He stops out of shock for a second, before rushing to the door of the facility. The doctor accompanying him swipes a card to unlock the door, and within a second Finnick is at your side, down on both knees and cradling your hand.

You glance at him in surprise, before recognizing that it’s him. It’s your Finnick. He’s here, in the flesh.

“Fin? Is that really you?” you ask, in such a weak voice that makes Finnick want to sob.

“I’m here, darling. You’re safe now. We’ll never be apart again, my love. I guarantee it,” he chokes out, each word threatening to make him cry.

“Oh, Finny. I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy. I missed you so much,” you respond, in disbelief still.

The tears come silently this time, streaming slowly down your cheeks and falling into your hair. When Finnick sees this, he quickly gets up and embraces you, careful not to hurt you. Pulling back, he brushes your hair out of your face and wipes away your tears.

You’re reminded of a similar moment that happened just three months ago, although it seems like so much longer.

When Finnick places a gentle kiss on your forehead, you finally manage to process where you are. I’m home, you think. Because home, for you, is a person.

****** interested in other works of mine? see my masterlist!

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venuslore · 4 months

Text

𖥔 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐑 𖥔

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒

coming soon !!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒

coastal aesthetic

slowburn friends to lovers

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐒

finnick deserves love

protective finnick

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒

coming soon !!

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

coming soon !!

back to main masterlist ᰔ

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moonslesbology · 11 months

Text

The Lucky One I

prologue - next chapter

YEARS HAD PASSED AND NOTHING ABOUT FINNICK ODAIR REALLY CHANGED, ALWAYS REMAINING THE KID WITH CUTS ON HIS HANDS AND HIS HEART ON HIS SLEEVE. Though, he was always annoyed at Eleanor for taking longer shifts than necessary at St Magdalene Rossetti and exhausting herself to an unneeded extent. That was his only complain, though Eleanor didn't care though. She preferred the serenity of a doctor's office over the dead silence of a house. Yes, she was only seventeen, but doctors in District 4 were a rarity, not to mention the teenager had been learning all you can about anatomy since she was eight.

She had decided that her potential future as a doctor was much more plausible than becoming a career, fully leaving the academy after Finnick's games just two years prior. Though both Annie and Finnick were annoyed at Eleanor, they both understood why she made her choice.

So, instead she traded her knives and spears for needles and a pair of surgical gloves, content with a life of service to her community. Every year she watched as innocent children were saved in reapings, and while she couldn't save them from the games, she could save them from the grief and guilt.

Eleanor Eves, District 4's local sweetheart, was nothing short than a gentle being with a softness for children, flowers, and her best friends, Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta. If she wasn't working in St Magdalene Rossetti, she was always seen with them, mostly her and Annie tackling Finnick whenever they had a chance.

There wasn't a single bone in her body that allowed Eleanor the ability to take a life.

Breathing in heavily, Eleanor rubbed her eyes as she opened the door for Mr Ives, an older man with greying hair but warm eyes. Everyone knew of his unlucky streak down at the docks, always managing to cut his hands with the knives he weaved through the scales of fish caught at sea.

Mr Ives, a man who seemed to have a streak for always cutting his hand whenever he cut the fish, seemed overtly fond of the brunette for her sweetness. Men from The Quay had brought him in just fifteen minutes before and he had adamantly insisted only Eleanor stitch up his cut. He had known her since she began working properly and trusted her to work on his wounds after she had expertly patched him up after a nasty cut on his hand, something her mother's unsteady hands struggled to do. At the time, the thirteen year old was figuring out the busy environment of a doctor's office, and watched as her mother struggled to steady her hand over Mr Ives' bleeding wound. Eleanor had logically gone and took the instruments off her mother, patching him up quickly and without many words. Ever since then, it was always Eleanor who helped him.

"You know Sweetheart, you have a real talent," Mr Ives had remarked, wincing as Eleanor injected the Morphling into his arm. She unwrapped the cloth that had been tied over the cut, immediately wiping away any of the excess blood. She grabbed onto the thread, tying it to the needle, before exhaling as she began sewing up the cut.

Eleanor gave him a small smile. "Believe me I wouldn't be this good if you didn't get injured this much, Mr Ives." She laughed apologising as she saw him wince slightly from the sight of the needle. "How's Martha and the baby?"

He gave a laugh. "The little lady's getting proper done with the kid, I'll tell you that." Mr Ives was a sweet man, Eleanor always thought so. He had always given her family extra fish whenever he could spare some. He was eternally grateful for her mother helping his wife get through a nasty case of the flu two winters prior and by association, was in debt to Eleanor. "She keeps demanding I wash in the garden since she pukes whenever I'm near her after my shifts."

Eleanor shook her head. "She is seven months along now and fish does smell bad when it's on you." Eleanor ignored the playful glare Mr Ives gave her. She decided on changing the topic. "Do you guys have any name ideas?"

"None Sweetheart." He shook his head with a laugh. "Wanted to call her Eleri and Martha nearly throttled me. She said that name made her feel sick as a fish." She laughed as he rolled his eyes, mimicking Martha's thick District 4 accent with a shake of his head. Martha Ives had come from The Cove, a region seemingly alienated from the rest of District 4. Their accents stood out like sore thumbs and Martha's was thick and rich, something Mr Ives adored.

Eleanor grinned, finally finishing off the stitches. She finally cut away at the thread, patting down on the stitches before pulling out a bandage. She wrapped it carefully around the hand, finally nodding up at him as she finished. "There, you better go home now." She told the man with an authoritative tone. There was a hint of playfulness in her voice as she instructed him. "No fishing for at least a week. Keep the stitches dry and come back in about a week. Mary'll remove them then." She pulled Mr Ives into a hug, laughing as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Sweetheart you are an absolute gem!" He laughed. He reached into his pocket, trying to pull out any spare change he had, only for Eleanor to shake her head at him. "Oh come off it, it's the least I can do."

She shook her head adamantly. "Policy is policy, Mr Ives. We don't care about money here, we aren't struggling for it at all. Now go, I don't want to see you until Martha has the baby."

He kissed her on the cheek once more, getting up and leaving the room. Eleanor sighed heavily, grabbing the cup of water which sat on the desk and taking a sip. She yawned, rubbing her eyes slightly. Then, she finally heard his voice and sobered up, blinking quickly to wash away any feelings of exhaustion.

Finnick Odair despised the days where Eleanor worked longer than necessary. Sometimes, his hatred took the literal form of him storming into St Magdalene Rossetti, just like today. As much as he tried convincing her otherwise, often using the excuse that he misses her way too much, Eleanor always found herself spending most her days cooped up with foolish men who injured themselves down on the docks. It wasn't a bad job per say, just tedious with how frequently the same men came back constantly.

As Finnick walked in, Eleanor exhaled heavily.

There were several ways in which Finnick Odair could be here:

A. He's injured.

B. He helped someone get here injured.

C. He simply wanted to annoy her.

Most the time, well at least nowadays, C was always the most logical and most likely explanation. "I swear to god, Finnick, you better not be injured again!" Eleanor raged as she walked around the room, pulling out bandaids and gauzes. She could already hear his choked laughs, rolling her eyes as she finally got off the ground. Finnick was stood in the centre of the room, holding a bouquet of tulips, scratching his head with a bashful smile. Her eyes softened, a blush already brewing on her cheeks. "Flowers?"

"Tulips," He grinned as she finally stood next to him, Finnick moving to smell the tulips and sighing breathlessly. He watched with fond eyes as she grinned at the bouquet, clearly not expecting the gesture. "My favourite which should be your favourite."

Eleanor grinned, a small blush already coating her cheeks. She couldn't help the way her heart fluttered as she took the tulips, holding them up to her nose and smelling them with a sigh. She wondered if flowers meant anything to Finnick, and if so, did they mean anything because he was giving them to her?

"Flirt with me when I'm not working, Odair." She rolled her eyes as he audibly groaned, quickly moving to grab a vase from the window. She gave the flowers one last smell, placing them in the empty vase and turning to see Finnick simply grinning at her. She gave an exhausted smile, hoping her cheeks weren't obviously red. She hoped she could just pass them off as a small sunburn if they were. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"Can't a guy miss his best girl?" He gave a lopsided grin, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Bother Annie, I'm sure she's not busy." She sighed, placing the bandaids down on the desk. She could feel Finnick's eyes on her, those stupid sea green eyes fixed on her figure as she finally took off her scrubs. "Don't tell me, you can't find her."

He nodded. "She's a good hider." Finnick scratched the back of his head with a bashful grin, watching Eleanor with a warm gaze.

"We always did beat you at hide and seek."

Finnick's eyebrows furrowed at Eleanor. "You mean, Annie, always beat me. You just followed her." He gave a laugh as Eleanor pushed him a way, scoffing in offence. Finally though, he held his hand out to her, looking at the clock momentarily before deciding for the both of them what they'd do next. "Come on, you're taking a break. Tell Ida and Margaret you're clocking out. You need a break."

Eleanor shook her head. "No, I've only got," she paused, looking at the clock before counting in her head. "four more hours." But it seemed as though Finnick wasn't having it, grabbing onto Eleanor and dragging her out, much to her protests. It seemed as though both Ida and Margaret were elated seeing the pair, waving Eleanor off with grins. "Finnick!"

Finnick grinned back at her, practically skipping alongside her. "You've been working all day! Have some fun!"

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