#finnick odair head cannon

[s1ater]

the only thing that matters.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

about. finnick is the only one to have ever gotten past your quiet and stoic shell, but neither of you think it’s for the good.

warnings. eh idk

ricky rocks. the hunger games series is honest to god one of the best to ever touch screens.

johanna hated watching you and finnick. it killed her.

since day one, johanna, like all of the others were closely fixated on you and every move you made. you were alluring solely due to the fact that you were silent and completely detached from the destruction of your reality. there was a large admiration for you and whether it was due to your great skill in combat or ability to keep an unwavering face when under the worse of pressure, no one could choose. you were a mystery.

johanna couldn’t figure you out; not for the life of her, and it was absolutely frustrating. especially when her greatest competition did.

of course. of fucking course it was finnick. she wasn’t surprised the more she thought about it—finnick could get anybody to talk. so of course it had to be him who would unravel you like a ball of yarn.

he was prying, and had no problem with being a pest if that meant he got what he wanted—and he always got what he wanted.

it was astounding to say the least.

“they’re sickening aren’t they?” katniss almost jumped at johanna’s jarring words that interrupted the silence.

it took her a moment to realize that the girl was talking about you and finnick and johanna had caught her staring.

“i don’t know… i think it’s interesting,” katniss bit the inside of her cheek as she watched finnick smile genuinely while watching you speak. the two of you were the only thing keeping the group from not seeming depressive. “they seem like polar opposites and yet this is the first time i have ever seen her smile… and it’s because of him.”

once you had gotten out of the blood rain with johanna, crossing paths with katniss and finnick and the rest of their group—you had begun to clean yourself off in the water before finnick had dunked you with reunition. there was no reason, and katniss had thought you would kill him once you came back up, but there you had been; gut laughing, trying to catch your breath while also attempting to return the favor.

johanna chuckles, “he’s a fucking dickhead for that,” she tsks, shaking her head, still watching the two of you, “but i guess it’s sweet in some fucked up way. both found each other amidst of all… this.”

she hated watching the two of you, because it reminded her of something she couldn’t have, something she lost, and something the two of you could so fastly lose as well with any wrong step.

“this is where we finally die, isn’t it?” your eyes watch the calm waves as they slowly wash up further onto the shore, just enough to kiss your feet.

your words make finnick narrow his brows, almost frowning real hard as he looks over to you. you feel distant, out of body and too far for him to reach and yet you were more than close. he feels uneasy at the tone of your voice, like you were almost ready to give up.

“far from it…” he slightly tips his head to look at your face, but he sees nothing, receives nothing despite his hope that you’d be in touch and full of emotion like all other times the two of you have been together. “hey, why?”

his hand holds your shoulder, almost reaching for your face, but you meet his eyes before he could further do so. the concern melted into his face made you inhale sharply, feeling slightly bad for causing the borderline stress in his eyes, “finn, i didn’t mean it… like that.”

“you ready to give up on me?” his eyebrows raise, trying to curve his lips in a accustomed smirk, but you can still see the worry.

“not yet,” you shook your head, almost scoffing as you look back out to the sun sinking into the trees, “just thinking.”

“think more logically, y/n,” he settles more comfortably and over the panic, using his index finger to lightly you tap on the side of your cheekbone. “if i die, who’s going to be your friend? keep you alive?”

you rolled your eyes, mumbling, “we both know i’m more than capable keeping myself alive.”

“we do,” it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “but outside of the games, what’re you going to do with yourself?”

you shook your head at his silly scenarios, now looking to him with something he didn’t like, “we just try to die together then.”

“she’s the only thing he cares about,” johanna stares harder than katniss was, watching the way his hand clasps the back of your neck while pulling you closer to him. “truly.”

“this is unlike you. since when is death a concern to you?”

“since i met you,” you purse your lips, almost in shame that an obvious dent was made in your principles when you met finnick. “you make me feel so helpless.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at the words coming from your mouth that some could find offense in, “oh, i know you love me.” but it was finnick, and he knew your meaning behind them and he knew exactly how you felt.

before, you were both considered some of the capitols top killers with nothing to lose. but now, everything seemed to not be in your favor the moment you met each other. you had everything to lose now and you both knew it.

“we’ll be the death of each other, y/n.”

navigation.

@transias @cc13723things @thehuntress09 @afidiofobia @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm @demigirl-with-problems @nyx3028 @missaryasstuff @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @kayalect @mystic-writings @stitch-flo @ancientimes @s0urw00lf @straightzoinked @i44nishi @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @lupinsluvbot

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick #finnick odair head cannon #finnick odair x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x annie #hunger games finnick #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #finnick odair #sam claflin

[multifan2022]

Golden Lies 9

PART 1 PART 8

Masterlist

~

You thought it would've been harder to find the small ragtag group. But it really wasn't, the boy from 8 was loud and yelling most of the day. So loud that while they were walking, they couldn't hear you following behind them. You listened to them talk, slowly forming a plan on how to take them on. Who would suffer most and who would die quickly. 

“It's amazing, they are so oblivious she's right behind them and they have no idea!” Caesar said laughing as he watched. He had never been so intrigued by the games before. He wanted his little goddess to win, so much that he had the little butterfly sitting on his desk. This alone spoke to how amazing the people thought you were. Caesar VERY rarely every showed such blatant support of one specific tribute.

It didn't take long to learn that the only one who wanted to slowly kill Beck, was like he said the boy from 8. That solidified the plan in your brain, the two girls would die quickly but the boy would suffer. He would suffer for as long as you could stretch it. You would get revenge for Beck. 

Night fell after an entire day of stalking, they were looking for you, without knowing that you were right behind them. It was clear they only made it this far because of their alliance with the careers. A small camp fire was made as they argued about whose turn it was to stay awake. 

In a twist of fate, it was the boys turn. 

The two girls fell asleep almost instantly but you still waited. Watching as the boy's eyes opened slower and slower, until he too fell asleep. An hour or two after he fell asleep you walked slowly putting your machete away. Two of the throwing knives you had left were pulled out. 

Both lodged between the Axis and Atlas of their necks, spinal cords severed instantly. They died with very little to no pain and almost instantly. Their cannons went off and you were already standing behind the boy from 8. So when he jumped from his place, he didn't even have time to notice his teammates were dead. 

The handle off your machete slammed into the side of his head, hard enough to knock him out. You went through the bags gathered around them while you thought about how you were going to kill him.

Impalement? 

The blood eagle?

Death by a thousand cuts?

But when you pulled out a knife used to cut fish, one that had fish scales on the handle and 4 engraved into the blade your mind was made up. So you put the knife, green apples, and a few bottles of water into your bag. Cleaned off the throwing knives and put them away. Then drug the boy far into the woods, the opposite way of the cornucopia. 

You knew you were going to need a lot of space to keep the others from hearing him. Somehow you got him into a sitting position, then used a cuff knot to secure his wrists. Then another knot with a separate rope around and through the cuff knot, and over a thick tree branch. 

Hoisting him into a standing position was another challenge. But you managed to and secured that around the tree. His legs were then tied together so it would be harder for him to kick at you. When you were done you stepped back, satisfied with your work. You climbed the tree, finding a comfortable spot to sit and rest. Just waiting for what would happen next. 

~~~~

Newt Pitwillow, the district 8 male tribute, jumps awake as the sound of birds chirping near him. He's disoriented, his head hurts both inside and out. His muscles feel stretched and strained. His shoulders are screaming at him to relax but he can't. Blood is slowly dripping down his arms alerting him to pain in his wrists. 

A voice somewhere above him scared him as he looked around, finding you sitting in a tree. "Ah, you're finally awake.. I didn't think I hit you THAT hard." You smirked at him while cutting the green apple into slices and eating it off the blade. "But now that you are awake, the games can continue.. I'm sure this grew very.. boring for those watching." 

Newts breathing picked up as he watched you hop down from the tree. Every step you took towards him increased his heart beat. "Why.. Why are you doing this!? Where are the others!" He screamed as you stopped just a few steps away from him. 

"Well.. The careers are at the cornucopia, far away from us. And the two girls you were with are dead. Don't worry I killed them quickly, unlike you I normally have a conscience. "You kept eating the apple with a smile on your face as you enjoyed the panic and confusion on the boy's face. It brought you a sick amount of joy that this was going to be far more painful than what he did to Beck. 

"If you killed them like that, then why am I here!" He yelled trying to pull at his arms, but they were secure. You laughed and pointed up at the knots with your knife "You like that.. Learned it at one of the survival stations.. Don't think this is how they thought we would use it but hey.. Live and learn right?" Newt started kicking and struggling again, his legs raising combined to try and lash out at you. 

You let him continue to wear himself down, knowing that eventually he would stop fighting. And when that came he looked at you with tears in his eyes “Why.. Why do this? Why not just kill me?” Casually you tossed the apple core to the side, walking over to the bag by the tree. Drank some water before pulling the fish knife out and turning back to him. “Because.. It makes for a good show.. People like pain.” 

“Oh we are hearing the same words repeated back to him that he said to that poor little boy from 4! What a turn of events from our little goddess!”

"Shes turning into the Goddess of Death and I am. Living. For. IT." The other broadcaster said as he smacked the table to show his enthusiasm.

You watched the color drain from his face as he remembered having said that. “Only your pain.. Well.. It's about to be a lot worse than his was.” You stepped forward holding the knife up so he could see it. “Recognize this? I'm going to assume you took it from one of the tributes from 4, because it has their number on it. It's for cutting fish. It solidified my choice when I was thinking about torture methods.” 

“You see, years and years ago, a victor from 9 wanted to open a small training center. He thought because of our strength from the fields, if we could just train a little more we could have some more winners. It was a nice thought, he filled this huge room with books. Some of those books were about forms of touture our society doesn't use anymore.” 

Goosebumps raised on Newts skin as the cool metal skimmed his arms, the calmness in your voice only scaring him more. “Eventually I outgrew the normal books teens read, right? So I read up on these, the one I really wanted to do to you.. I don't think I have upper body strength. It's called the ‘Blood Eagle’. It's when you open someones back and remove their ribs from their spine, pulling their bones and skin outward to form a set of “wings,” and remove their lungs from their chest cavity.”

“My god.. That's gruesome. It would've been amazing to see, I'm so excited to see what she has planned.” 

“But like I said, I don't think I have the strength to snap your ribcage away from your spine. But I have something else in mind, something that will kill you slower. Put on more of a show, I'm sure you understand.” You said nodding with your lips pursed before smiling. You didn't know how to feel, that weird part of you had completely taken over. Maybe it was just your survival instincts on full blast, but then why hadn't you killed Newt immediately. 

Because you wanted revenge, and that was what confused you. But you boxed it away inside your head and focused on the matter at hand. “SO instead of breaking your bones, I'm going to flay you..” The smile that took over your face as you stepped towards him was chill inducing. Newt was scared, the people of the capitol were perched so closely to the end of their seats that one stiff breeze would push them off.

The mentors in the training center where shocked. They had seen a lot of things happen, a lot of mental breakdowns. But none like this, they were use to the ones where someone shut down. When they curled into a ball and cried until they died. This was scary, it was like looking at a completely different person.

Even just the way you stood was different, the tilt to your head, the look in your eye. You didn't seem like you. They were nervous that you would win, but you would be insane.

Back across town, Walking back into the groups large penthouse was Seneca Crane. All it took to convey the sucuess of his trip was a smile and a nod. The same smile that was paused and stopped on their wall. They would find a way to get this image printed and hung here as soon as the morning light filled the sky. The same smile was shared between all the men.

They had found her..

The one they would ruin.

~

~

~

@avis15 @liballer @avoxrising @notplutos @asapkyndall @wolfstarfate

#finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick x oc #hunger games finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #the hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair head cannon

[abacteral]

Cashmere lore

hi everyone!!! can anyone provide me with cashmere lore, im writing something with cashmere as a major character, and i was just asking does anyone like have head cannons or anything about her? (relationships with other victors other than gloss?)

#the hunger games #districts #cashmere #thg #fanfic #head cannon #coriolanus snow #the capital #panem #gloss #finnick odair #johanna mason #haymitch abernathy #enobaria

[melusinealarice]

This is my personal Taylor song association with THG characters

Johanna Mason- Mad woman, The last great American Dynasty, Anti-Hero, The man, I did something bad, look what you made me do, my tears ricochet, Champagne Problems,

Finnick Odair- Gold rush, gorgeous, you’re on your own kid, delicate, call it what you want, dancing with our hands tied, I know places, Mirrorball, Innocent, cowboy like me, superstar, tied together with a smile, the lucky one

Katniss Everdeen- Labyrinth, dear reader, glitch, the archer, peace, I almost do, sad beautiful tragic, peace, nothing new, run, willow, tis the damn season, long story short, evermore, breathe, the other side of the door, afterglow, the last time, hoax

Haymitch- This is me trying, mastermind, cruel summer, forever winter, this is why we cant have nice things, epiphany, back to December, haunted, treacherous, exile

Primrose- Never grow up, it’s nice to have a friend, wildest dreams, the lakes, seven, stay stay stay, everything has changed, Dorothea, the best day, bye bye baby, a place in this world, stay beautiful, safe and sound

Peeta- Lover, lavender hayz, snow on the beach, sweet nothing, i think he knows, London boy, Cornelia street, false god, new years day, how you get the girl, you are in love, invisible string, mine, ours, long live, change, state of grace, begin again, tolerate it, love story,

Katniss and Peeta’s relationship- the great war, daylight, this love, out of the woods, king of mt heart, dress, get away car, so it goes, paper rings

#the hunger games #hunger games #i love you taylor #taylor swift #finnick odair #johanna mason #katniss #thg peeta #thg haymitch #head cannon

[anatay004]

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part one) (part two)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏ�� ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

THERE WAS A TANG of venom in your mouth. You could taste it, the bitter crimson that seeped through your teeth as you chewed on the inside of your cheeks. You tried to keep your head from aching, perhaps, if you shut your eyelids for a moment — just for a second, you thought you might actually escape him.

"Ms. (Y/N), how wonderful it is to see you again," Snow spoke from across the desk, his voice was quiet but vehement— it almost made you shiver. "Please, take a seat."

Nauseously, you sat across from him.

The study ensued with a straining silence that made the skin of your arms prick with uneasiness. Snow had bothered to travel across the districts to visit your home; it could only mean one of two things: either you were in trouble or he wanted something from you.

"I won't take much of your time, Ms. (Y/L), as long as we agree to not lie to each other, this will be a short conversation, I can assure you."

I'm definitely in trouble, you thought.

"Of course." You managed to answer.

Up close, you could see the lines of evident age that marred his face. How long, you wondered, until time peels the skin off his bones clean?

"Katniss Everdeen," Snow venomously spat, and you couldn't help, but give him your full attention. "Do you recall the name?"

The new Victor from District 12.

The threat of rebellion.

"I do." You limited yourself to answer.

"Good," Snow breathed out. "You see, she is causing me quite a few problems. None of which are tethered to you, of course, but they eventually will. Unlike you, Ms. (Y/N), she dismisses the cause of the Hunger Games, the mercy that we offer by keeping one of the 24 tributes alive. She's challenging, I’m afraid."

Unlike you.

You wanted to dart him a glare; his words were a backhanded compliment. When you killed your partner in the games — your friend, you involuntarily enlightened a sense of honor in the Capitol. Your disoriented conscious due to the venom of one of the jellyfish in the arena eulogized Snow's message: there are no real allies and no true loyalty between the districts.

This was far from the truth, of course.

You never meant to win the games by killing your ally from the same district. When the dam's collapsed and the waves of water drowned almost everyone in the arena, you'd managed to swim back to the surface. But the lack of oxygen and poison from the jellyfishes had already interfered with your sanity. And when he'd rushed to help you back to your feet, you'd confused him for a Career. It was only a matter of minutes before the cannon boomed.

Your eyes glossed at the memory.

"With that being said, she, alongside Peeta Mellark, will try to seek refugee in their act of love to gain sponsors and win the games again.”

Your eyebrows knitted together.

Again?

"I want you to dissipate that advantage, Ms. (Y/M)." He must have read your expression. "I want you and Finnick Odair to annihilate their strategy by doing exactly the same thing."

You blinked in sudden disbelief.

He wanted you back in the Hunger Games. He wanted you back with Finnick Odair, with the only person he probably knew you cared the most about. You tried to quench the searing pain that was burning inside your chest. The air started to rush out your lungs, but you managed to compose yourself in time as Snow tilted his head to the side to examine you quietly.

"There's nothing between – " You tried to come up with an excuse, with anything that could've eliminated Finnick from this plan, but he raised an eyebrow in silent question and the words froze immediately on the tip of your tongue.

"We agreed to not lie, Ms. (Y/M)."

You pressed your lips together. "Right."

He stifled a faint grin. "You are the Capitol's favorites, the most beloved Victors. Even more than Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

You didn't know what to answer. His plan was already arranged, there was nothing you could say that could make him change his mind. If anything, he was merely being considerate by taking the trouble of giving you a heads-up.

"Finnick and I haven't spoken in weeks." You breathed out, which wasn't a lie. After years of breaking up and getting back together, the romance eventually ended when you discovered the sexual arrangements that had happened behind your back for years. When Finnick had decided to finally shut you out his life after he’d explained his backstory and decided you were not good together.

The slight curve of Snow's lips indicated that he knew this already — of course, he did.

"I know," Snow confessed. "but the people from the Capital don't, Ms. (Y/N). Therefore, you have an advantage at hand, you can fool everyone, make the Capital forget about the lovers from District 12, and...you will have my protection."

You looked up then and examined his face very carefully. There wasn't a hint of deception in his expression, he was being honest and that scared you the most. He promised your safety; he promised your victory.

"What about Finnick?" You found yourself asking, without even thinking.

He smiled. "You see, you almost got me fooled, Ms. (Y/LN). Imagine just how easy it would be to fool the Capitol if you could just step forward.”

You swallowed hard.

"But to answer your question, Ms. (Y/L), Mr. Odair will be protected if he succeeds in convincing me. And, who knows, if you achieve to sell your romance act, the Capitol might even advocate for two winners again. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

He was lying.

He had to be.

Hope retaliated in the pit of your stomach. "I thought we had agreed to not lie to each other."

His eyebrows jumped. "So did I."

After the conversation ended, President Snow stepped out of your home without another word as a fugitive car approached your home. Within a few minutes, he swiftly disappeared into the leather backseat and the vehicle drove off.

You tried to keep your head from reeling, but your muscles momentarily numbed as you simply stood outside, inhaling the ocean's breath. You couldn't coherent a single sentence, for a moment, you even struggled to pinpoint whether the conversation with Snow had been real or not.

What would Finnick think?

What would anyone think?

You exhaled sharply, but before you could collect yourself, Finnick's frame stumbled into your line of vision from across the Victor's Village. You faltered on your spot almost immediately, muscles wracked with evident tension — and he must've noticed, because trepidation soon glossed over his green irises.

As if he'd suddenly realized who had visited you.

"(Y/N)!" He began to call.

Instinctively, you began to retrace back your steps inside your house (in hopes to avoid him), but he was faster and twisted the polished handle before the door could even shut close behind you. You jumped in shock, a startled expression donned on your face as he invited himself in. "What happened?"

Your mouth went dry. "I..."

"— Did he hurt you?" His voice went up a few decibels, and you struggled to find the strength to open your mouth. "(Y/L), did he hurt you?"

You managed to shake your head. "No, he..."

Finnick reached for your arm. His muscles were tense, but his touch was gentle and you instinctively leaned in. "He's going to reaped us into the games, he wants us to follow the love act that Katniss and Peeta pulled."

His eyebrows knitted together in thought. "What?" He breathed out, trying to decipher the mixture of emotions that flitted across your face in a matter of seconds. Every sentiment that threatened to register on your face before Snow was finally shattering before Finnick.

"He wants to kill them off," You found yourself repeating, a hint of desperation notched down the timbre of your voice. "He wants us to take their sponsors, but he said he would protect us, Finnick. He promised he would and I – "

A sob strangled your throat, for a split second, you couldn't manage another word. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the side of your head. You immediately indulged in his warmth and your senses immediately heighten at the whiff of his scent. Belatedly, you realized it had been a while since he’d last embraced you. And it wasn't until he was rubbing your back and whispering that everything was going to be okay when you finally noticed that you were trembling.

"It's going to be okay, love." He whispered.

Love.

And then it finally clicked.

What he’d done to you.

You wrenched away from him as though his skin had suddenly torched you. You took several steps back as you tried to muffle the sob that was ripping through your lips. Finnick faltered for a second as he tried to find the right words to remedy the hurt that you felt, but when he noticed the familiar betrayal in your gaze — he pressed his lips into a thin line.

He didn't know what to say anymore.

"I need to get some sleep."

"Sweetheart, wait — "

"Goodnight, Finnick."

And with that, you turned your back to him.

#fanfic #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair imagine #coriolanus x you #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #hunger games finnick

[libertyybellls]

BELIEVE ME NOW ?

pairing; mentor!finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick odair, to love you- to protect you, battles it out with tough love that you can’t quite see.

contains; ENEMIES TO LOVERS, fluff/tad bit of angst, finnick nearly breaking readers door down, ONE singular kiss is shared 😇, unspoken feelings, death/typical hunger games violence, comfort.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you didn’t know why you hated finnick odair, but you know when it started. you knew it the minute he was assigned you mentor, the minute he put on an act and thought of himself to be better than you, and the second that he wouldn’t give you any reasonable advice before your games.

it was only when you’d won your games, did finnick finally feel for you, it ate him up inside- guilt, fear, shame, it all sickened him.

he sought death in his games, not of the other kids- but himself. but when you’re forced into that arena- when someone stronger, faster, smarter than you starts running towards you- desperate to hear that cannon sound, you fight. and he hated everything about how he fought- only to end up a possession to the republic, a slave to his own mind.

so when he saw you, wide eyed- sitting on that train- scared, unsuspecting, unprepared- he saw himself. he saw that fourteen year old boy stripped from his home, to end the game with blood on his hands.

you were older than he was then, but it didn’t matter if he was nineteen, thirty, even eighty- he’d give anything to have been lucky enough to die in that arena.

you’d arrived from your games a few days ago, only having seen mags. mags who had helped you before your games, signing to you how to find food and water, how to not get sick or hypothermic, die of heatstroke. mags, who brushed your hair after your first shower when all you wanted to do was curl in a ball and disappear, who sent you off to rest knowing if she hadn’t given you medicine you’d stay up- stuck in your head.

being in that hotel after your games was like a ghost town. all the other mentors and stylist sent home- only your own had been there. all the other kids were gone- quite frankly dead. the room next to yours vacant- your district partner, a boy you’d gotten to know quite well- someone you’d even call a friend, dead. just you left.

you’d just finished your interview, faking a smile, plastering on a look of faux happiness- preaching about how grateful you were to have made it out. dressed so extravagantly, so see-through, so indecent, your makeup so dissimilar to you- you couldn’t even recognize yourself.

you’d been rushing back to your room- rushing to hide away until you’d once more get back on the train and give a ‘victory’ tour.

finnick had been waiting for you, he had so many things he needed to say, to tell you- no, warn you about.

but as you strided towards him from the elevator, and let out a sharp; “what? here to take the credit from all the advice you gave me?” and slammed your door without batting an eye- the words were lost in his throat.

he started with knocking, simply calling your name, “can i please just speak to you?” then the knocks got harder, less distance in time between each one, then he was pounded on the white door incessantly. “y/n, open this door.”

your head was pounding, and you could care less for what glorious speech he was going to spew at you, “i don’t want your fucking pity story, finnick.” you tell back from the other side of the door- at this he pushes, and pushes the door until the lock gives.

when he sees you, your sitting on the edge of your bed- your heads in your hands, the lamp beside you is dim.

“what? what’s so important you had to force yourself into my room? do you think anything you say is going to change how you left me? you left me to die.” you were glaring at him. with so much hate behind your eyes he couldn’t take it anymore.

you thought you’d been nothing but kind to him, respectful, even after he’d won his games you still treated him normally once he’d gone back to district four- worst of all, you thought you deserved some type of help from him. but all you ended up being was dirt on his shoe?

“i was trying to protect you-“

you laugh incredulously at this, “trying to protect me? no, finnick. you wanted to protect malik-“ you waved your hand in the direction of the very empty, lifeless room of your district partner, “and look where your ‘help’ got him.”

“i mean, you made no effort to do so much as look my way, and now you want to talk? you’re of no use to me now. i already got through the worst of it- without you.” you continued rambling as you took of your necklace, your rings, your bracelets.

“trust me y/n you’ll realize victory isn’t the better option. so if you’d just fucking-“ he sighed, running his hand over his face and looking down. “if you’d just listen to me- you’ll see i’m trying to be your friend- to help you for what’s coming next.”

there’s a few beats of silence as he waits for your response, it’s deafening- you’ve completely paused in your action of taking out your earrings. “my friend?” you laugh, hair falling over your shoulders. “i don’t really like you, finnick.”

this perplexes finnick, shaking his head. “and i don’t really believe you, y/n.” he takes a step closer, breaking your imaginary bubble. “you know you were the only person who didn’t hover around me in our town after my games? the only person who never looked up to me? like i was this spectacle? waiting to see my next move?”

you take one step closer to him now, you can smell him- it’s of salt air and expensive cologne- and it’s unbearable. there’s heat emitting from his body.

“that’s called caring, finnick.” you look into his eyes now, for the first time. “and i’d only wish you’d have that same respect for me.”

there’s something he can’t understand about you, you’re constantly trying to fight back- you won’t admit defeat or accept help- just continuing your fight for survival. but he prays you know you don’t have to fight him, he only wants to help you.

“why do you think i’m here?” his eyes are pulling you in, his smell is suffocating you. it’s all a paradox. “you think im here to torment you further, y/n?”

truth be told, you don’t know why he’s here. you don’t know why he’s caring so much. but you’re here, standing inches away from him in your hotel room and admiring him- for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“snows going to do everything he can to make you feel small. he’s going to make you the capitols dream girl. he’s going to objectify you, and show you off like you’re a prize.” he takes a breath, you’re driven to further confusion- why does it look like this is hurting him too? “and you can’t fight it, because it will only have him sway more control over you. only more pain for you. and i won’t have that y/n.”

finnicks closer to you now, “i won’t-i cant have him take more of you.” from me, he wants to say, he wants to tell you that all he’s tried to do from the moment he met you as a boy, is protect you.

there it is again, that glint in his eyes- the utter, pure concern and passion, and you can’t take it. “don’t do that. don’t look at me like you care about me.”

finnicks face is not even an inch away from yours now, you can see the birthmarks on his neck- the freckles the sun has blessed him with that are so faint you wouldn’t have seen them before.

“i do.” he says like it’s the last words he’ll ever say. the air has left both of your lungs.

you keep this eye contact with him, like he can see your heart, and like you’re trying to read his mind. “i don’t believe you.” you mock his words from earlier.

he angles his head at these words, moving closer so your lips are touching-and your eyes flutter shut- but he hasn’t kissed you, not yet.

“i want to protect you until i can’t anymore. until im gone.” he doesn’t let you speak now, his lips stealing your words when they crash into yours. the movement is natural, fluid, soft.

he expects you to pull away, shove him off of you, tell him that you hate him- but you deepen the kiss much to his surprise.

you kiss him, pull him impossibly close to you until you can’t anymore- until your lungs now beg for oxygen- but all you want to do is breath him in. you pull away, and your eyes open, nearly in shock, but more in amusement.

“believe me now?”

-

masterlist

#finnick angst #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick smut

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I love writing pissed off Johanna dialogue!

Content warnings - death (it’s the hunger games)

As much as he wants to chase after you, he can’t. Katniss would kill you and he can’t abandon the plan, not until he can pass off babysitting duty to Johanna.

You spent the evening wandering the jungle, unnerved by every little noise you heard. After you left, you circled back the way you had originally come, hoping the others would carry on in the other direction.

Your arm was still bleeding but you didn’t care. It’s not like any sponsors were lining up to send you stuff. You’ll have to kill a career and steal their supplies using the only weapon you have, the arrow that landed in your arm.

A few hours after dark, the faces of the fallen appear in the sky. None of your allies are on the list so you don’t really care. It’s not like you knew these people.

You opt to go deeper into the jungle, opposite of where Finnick must be. This whole place is starting to look the same, though, and it’s hard to get your bearings.

Hours later, a gong rings twelve times. You don’t have time to ask yourself what it means as the hairs on your body stand up and a large blast of electricity shoots down mere yards away from you.

Lightning.

You have to move. Now. Your ears hurt and panic rises in your throat. They’re here to kill you. You’re gonna die.

Running, you collide with someone, another tribute. They don’t even have time to scream before your arrow is through their neck and their cannon is sounding. Move. Now.

You run until you can’t anymore, scared that something is chasing you. The game makers must have caused the lightning to force you and the other tribute closer together.

There were other canons throughout the night, but you paid no attention to them. You sat under a tree, hugging your knees, trying to ignore the burning in your dry throat and the pain in your arm. Of course Katniss had to shoot your dominant arm.

When the day is bright enough to illuminate your section of the jungle, you decide to head back towards where the lightning was. If another tribute was over there then there may be some food or water close by. Maybe they even had sponsors.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you make it back to where the fight occurred. There’s no trace of it but you know the spot. Your hair stands on edge again and you panic, knowing exactly what this means. The lightning strikes and you bolt, running from whoever must be near.

They’re going to kill you. You’re dead. You need to run faster.

You run downhill, towards what you think is the lake. Despite not being allowed in the ocean for the past five years, you’re probably still the second best swimmer in the arena behind Finnick. If you could lure whoever is chasing you into the water then you could drown them.

Your legs barely make it to the beach, completely drained from your lack of sleep and sustenance. Whoever was following you must have realized your plan and stopped. Maybe nobody followed you at all.

As you make your way out of the jungle and towards the water, you pause, spotting a large group of people a ways down the beach. It’s Finnick and his alliance. Maybe they would give you food, or shoot you. Honestly, who knows?

They spot you approaching and Katniss aims another arrow at you. You’re still clutching the one she shot you with in your hand, ready to stab anyone who comes near.

“Y/N!” Finnick exclaims as he runs over to you. “I was so worried.”

You look over at the group and back at him, silently asking if they’re ok with you being there. He sighs, realizing that Katniss probably isn’t ok with you being there but he needs you with him anyways. He can’t lose you.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. You shake your head no. “We have food and water. Oh! And some first aid stuff for your arm. Katniss is sorry by the way.”

“Skin?” you ask him. Noticing the scabs on his body and the cuts on his face.

“We got caught in some poisonous fog last night and ended up in a fight with some monkeys this morning,” he explains. “I’m alright. Nobody in our group has died except Blight. He hit the force field last night and they couldn’t revive him.”

You hum in response, catching a whiff of the fish Finnick must have caught for the group to eat. He notices your hunger and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the group close to Johanna and far away from Katniss.

“Glad you could join us feisty!” Johanna chuckles as you sit near her. You give her a shrug as if to say that you’re currently indifferent to your existence. She gets the memo.

“Nuts and Volts,” she states. “Have you met fiesty?”

The man and woman look up at the group.

“Yes,” Beetee replies. “I believe we briefly met Y/N at her victory tour celebration in the capital but it’s been many years. It is nice to see you again Y/N, although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You guys aren’t letting her stay with us, right?” Katniss asks and you tense up. They need her for their plan. You’re disposable.

“Back off firebird,” Johanna barks. “She’s sticking with us.”

“She tried to kill me!” Katniss exclaims.

“Because you touched her,” Johanna shouts. You flinch at the volume. “Rule numéro uno is don’t touch fiesty. Plus I thought you were a good fighter, Katnip. You mean to tell me you couldn’t win a fight against her? She hasn’t been outside in over five years. She’s practically harmless!”

“Let’s settle down,” Finnick states, noticing you becoming tense due to the yelling. “Here’s your fish Y/N. I’m gonna go grab you some water.” You smile at him in thanks and begin to eat the fish. The smile fades when you notice Katniss watching you eat like a hawk, so you turn around and sit with your back towards her while you eat.

You need to convince her of Johanna’s words. You’re harmless.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fluff #hunger games angst #the hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #the feral one

[sunniskyies]

𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Johanna are swamped by blood rain in the third Quarter Quell, but luckily for you, you’re reunited with a precious somebody back on the beach 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Blood, vomit, gore, cursing, disorientation. Reader discretion is advised !! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Hurt/comfort, romance, all that good stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k 𝐀/𝐍: I have a really bad habit of starting fics with a miserable circumstance… Anyway! Some of this is not quiiiiite like canon, but, y’know, *flashes my creative licence*

You pant loudly, your vision swimming as you stumble through the undergrowth. Practically walking blind at this point, you reach out and are grateful a tree is there to catch your fall.

“You alright there, Y/L/N?” Johanna says in her usual abrasive tone.

"Yeah, m’ good." You groan between gulps of air. "Just so thirsty."

You and Johanna have been leading Beetee and Wiress through this damned jungle for over a day now, and still not a drop of water. The dehydration must be setting in, your skin is tight and dry and your is head pounding. And god, the humidity is stifling. You can hardly draw breath.

Suddenly, you feel a fat droplet plunk onto your hunched back. And then another. And another. “Rain!” You choke, turning your head to the sky, eagerly opening your cracked lips.

A scream rings out, Johanna’s scream. But not before you also registered the meaning of the metallic tang on your tongue. “It’s blood!” She shrieks.

The liquid is coming down heavy now, fast and thick. It coats every inch of your body and blinds what little sight you have left. You stagger around, sightlessly pawing for Wiress or Beetee. You must keep them alive, and any mutt could easily sneak up on them in this state.

Between streams of blood in your eyes, you finally locate Wiress. Grabbing her, you stagger down the steep slope, scraping past trees. You have been staying away from the lake, wanting to avoid unwanted attention from the Careers. But you have to get this off you.

“Johanna, get Beetee!” You shout fiercely, gagging as blood floods your mouth. Wiress is writhing around in your grip, moaning nonsense. You don’t mean to be rough with her, but you’re struggling to breathe in between mouthfuls of blood and your body is threatening to crumple. So you just continue staggering desperately towards the embrace of clean water.

The rain ceases its unrelenting hammering on your skin as you eventually burst into the open air of the beach. Releasing Wiress, you practically fall into the lake, retching up disgusting clots of blood and vomit.

You feel a ragged scream peal out from your mouth, hands scratching and tearing at your skin and hair. Storm clouds of red are billowing out into the water around you, but you still can’t get the stuff out of your mouth, your eyes, your ears.

“Y/N! Johanna!” A voice oh-so-familiar yells from along the beach. Your chest seems to fill with helium at the sound. Momentarily elated, you try to jerk your head up to look, but all you see is smears of red.

“Finnick!” You cry, trying to rub the blood out of your eyes with your fingertips, desperate to see him. Soon enough, calloused fingers pry yours away from your raw skin, strong arms wrapping around you tightly.

“Y/N! Y/N, stop that! You’re okay, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Finnick soothes, a hand reaching up to cup your head. “When the wave came through and the cannon went off, I was so scared it was you.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your damp forehead. “What the hell happened?”

“The rain- it’s blood!” You blink your eyes, finally getting a good look at the man crouched in the water with you. Golden curls, warm tan skin. You can’t see those beloved dimples though, his gorgeous face too furrowed and concerned.

“I’m so thirsty, I tried to drink it, and, and-” You stammer, gagging as another wave of nausea racks your body. Finnck puts his hand under your chest, holding you above the water while you expel mouthfuls of the foul liquid. His hand rubs soothingly on your back.

“Peeta! The spile!” He yells back to the beach, the blond boy jumping to action, hammering a small metal tool into the trunk of a large tree.

You’ve stopped gagging now, exhaustedly sagging into Finnick’s hold on you. He sits back in the water, lying you between his legs and on his chest to rest while he gently massages the blood out of your hair and skin.

“M’ so glad you found us.” You murmur into his chest. You can’t see it, but he smiles down at you.

“Me too, sweet girl.” He hums, finally being able to see your hair colour as he rinses you off with handfuls of seawater.

Peeta trots over, handing Finnick an odd woven bowl-like thing. He coaxes you to prop your head up for a moment, and you eagerly down the shallow offering in seconds. Peeta willingly comes back over and over until your thirst is quenched.

By that time, Finnick had finished rinsing the blood off of you. He’s unzipped the top of your sticky suit and your skin relishes in the closest thing to ‘cool’ you’ve felt in 24 hours.

Your head has finally cleared too, the dizzy spinning that had clouded your vision gone. Reluctantly, you sit up from Finnick’s chest. Looking around, you see that Katniss and Peeta have washed and watered the two tributes from District 3, and Johanna is sitting up listening as Katniss explains something animatedly.

It doesn’t matter. Finnick is here, that’s all that counts. You turn back towards him, your eyes snagging on his sea-green ones. They are trained intently on your face, searching for any sign of distress. You feel warmth well up in your chest at the way he looks at you.

You allow a weak smile to perch on your face, wrapping your arms around his neck in the first proper embrace you’ve had since he got here. You burrow your face in the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Thanks, Finn.” You murmur.

He wraps you up tightly in his arms as if you would just float away if he didn’t. “Of course, Y/N/N.” He presses kiss after kiss into your damp hair. “I’m so glad we found you.”

The smile on your face is real now, and you look up at him slyly. “Believe it or not, I am too.”

He snorts, and you push yourself up until your lips connect with his. He tastes overly salty and you tang of blood, but it doesn’t matter. It might just be the best kiss you’ve ever had, his hands drifting softly over you and your fingers curling in his hair.

Relaxing into each other, you both deepen the kiss. For a man known to be so strong and tough by everyone else, he’s soft and pliant underneath you. His hands and mouth eagerly soak you up into every ounce of himself.

“Get a room, lovebirds!” Someone growls from the beach.

Reluctantly, Finnick breaks away, throwing a scowl and a hand gesture to Johanna, who just laughs.

Turning back to you, he flashes you a sloppy smirk. “C’mon, sweetheart. Looks like Cat-piss over there has a plan.” He stands up, water rolling off of him, and offers you a hand.

You snort, loud and unladylike, and take it.

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #finnick odair x reader #hunger games fic #oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #the hunger games #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction

[blondedmuse]

OUT OF THE WOODS

finnick odair x reader

synopsis. ꩜ you and finnick get separated during the quarter-quell, but you always manage to find your way back to each other.

author's note. ∿  i've wanted to write for finnick for like ever so. also angst and fluff

word count. ⨾ 1.9k

The sky was a grim obsidian, your muscles were aching, and your eyelids were listless, ready to close for good at any given moment. You, Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta had been trekking the jungle terrain of the arena for hours and it proved itself to be nothing less than grueling. You'd been on edge ever since the moment you stepped on the podium and even more once the countdown had ended and the game had begun. It hadn't helped your fear when Peeta had almost died, twice, before nightfall—it was a wonder he was still alive.

Now, hours later, you're still on edge and waiting for what the game makers were ready to throw at you. The group had just been gifted a spile for water and settled somewhere to sleep for the night, but you were still wide awake. Even though the water had pacified your thirst, nothing could pacify your fear.

"I think you should get some rest," Finnick said, coming up from behind and sitting on a rock next to you. You only shook your head at his suggestion and you saw his expression soften. It wasn’t easy, but he could read you like a book. It didn’t have to slap him in the face to know you were more than exhausted. You were afraid, angry, but above all else you were sad.

Finnick hated seeing you like this, especially because being your mentor, he knew the effect your first game had on you—and it felt like he was watching it happen all over again.

"Y/N."

"Finnick," You replied.

"Rest," He said seriously, but his voice was gentle. You looked into his eyes and they were begging for you to give into his request.

"Fine," You sighed. "Just...be alert, please."

He nodded his head with a sympathetic smile. "Always."

You got up from the rock and Finnick's sweet, saccharine smile lingered on his lips while you laid yourself down on a large leaf to sleep on, covering the ground.

You kept yourself close to the group, but just distanced enough where you could sleep undisturbed. It didn't take much for you to drift off, despite the pounding sound throughout the arena. You acknowledged it and heard Katniss mumble something about twelve, but after that your mind went blank, falling asleep.

Only an hour or two later were you woken up a second time by the sounds of screams—Katniss' screams. Your body jolted awake and the next thing you know you were on your feet and grabbing your harpoon, running from the poisonous fog swiftly heading your way.

The cloud had slithered its way between you and the rest of the group, who you were now losing sight of. You heard Finnick call your name and you were about to call out back to him, but you were cut off by your own scream caused by searing pain.

Finnick heard your cries and urgently called your name again but Katniss continued to usher him and Peeta in the other direction before they too could be consumed by the cloud.

The fog had only reached the heel of your foot and yet the burn was almost unbearable. It sent you stumbling forward, rolling on the ground, landing by a small creek. It didn't take much for the fog to catch up to you, consuming the lower half of your body. The agony kicked your senses into high gear and you knew you had to keep moving. You did what you could, dragging yourself towards the stream.

When your skin touched the water it was almost as if you were going up in flames. The pain heightened tenfold and all you could do was close your eyes and scream in anguish. But it only lasted for so long until you noticed its disappearance.

Once your eyes flickered open you saw the water clearing your wounds and an invisible forcefield that redirected the cloud around you. You were still alive. You were still in the game. The moment the cannon went off you could only pray that Finnick and the others were too.

Finnick's heart sank. "That couldn't have been her," He mumbled, his voice wavering and Peeta looked at him nervously.

"I mean I don't know." He shrugged. "We saw her and then we didn't."

"It could've been another tribute," Finnick reasoned while the sharp pain in his throat anticipated the welling of tears in his eyes. He really does believe the cannon signaled the death of another tribute, that you wouldn't give up so easily—not without a fight. But he also didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, because then he wouldn't know whether or not he'd be able to keep going.

"It had to be a coincide-" Finnick started again, only to be cut off by Katniss.

"Finnick, grab your trident slowly," She said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes shifting between Finnick and the monkey mutation stalking behind him.

You'd been laying in the creek for about what you thought was around a little less than an hour, resting your body and catching your breath. It was pure luck a tribute hadn't stumbled over you and you weren't going to let it happen now.

You hauled yourself up from the ground, grabbed your harpoon, and continued moving through the arena. If something hadn't killed you while you were motionless on the ground, then the game makers were going to send something your way to try and make sure you wouldn't be alive for much longer. And they did.

Seconds after you grabbed your harpoon, you noticed an animal in the distance blocking your way to the beach—and it was heading your way. You started traveling parallel to the shore, running as fast as you could but you only got so far until your feet came to a halt, another one in your way. You could see now that it wasn't just an animal but a monkey. A big, monstrous, mutated, monkey.

You were quick to stab it right through the heart, its body collapsing to the ground. However, that was only the first of many. The monkeys began appearing left and right, and while it was easy, you could only kill so many before they would start to fight back. One clawed at your side and you felt your flesh split open, your side warming with the blood of an open wound. You needed to run.

Your means of escape to the beach were gone so you kept moving parallel to shore once you cleared a way for yourself. While running you tried to recall what exactly Katniss said. "I counted 12...like midnight?"

It didn't take you long before you put the pieces together. The arena was like a clock, or at least followed a measured unit of time. You remembered the sound of loud thuds, pangs, similar to a clock when the hour hand strikes twelve. The fog was about an hour and you had been lying on the ground for maybe forty-five minutes after that. All you were sure of was that if you were right, this sudden wave of monkeys couldn't last for much longer.

With a hand on your wound, you ran until your legs grew tired, and then you ran some more. They eventually stopped chasing after you and stopped appearing altogether. You'd admit it was strange, but it didn't matter now that they were gone. Still, you kept running. You kept running because you heard a voice. Finnick's voice.

"Katniss!" Finnick yelled, chasing after the frantic girl on fire. "Katniss?"

She ran steadfast into the jungle, chasing the voice of her sister, Prim. She repeated her name over and over again as if she would be able to find her in the arena, but all she saw were squawking birds. She furrowed her brows. Jabberjays.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Finnick asked, finally catching up to her.

"Yeah, I just...thought I heard my sister," she explained and Finnick nodded, slightly distracted.

"Do you hear that?" He asked. "It sounds like...Y/N?"

Katniss' eyes widened and Finnick was already on the move, sprinting towards what he thought was your voice.

"Finnick! No! They're just-"

Jabberjays.

You hadn't heard Finnick's voice at all, only the mocking voice of mutated birds. Birds that were swarming you overhead, garbling your name in his voice and mimicking his cries. The sound of his pained voice was tormenting on its own, but it was even worse when the birds started swooping towards you.

You tried to run but you hit an invisible forcefield, not to your convenience this time. You didn't know what to do so you covered your ears and dropped to the jungle floor. You could still hear his cries, cutting deep into your heart. And you could only wait until the torture was over.

Eventually, enough time had passed and the harrowing voices of the birds subsided. Despite your body's objection, you got up from the ground and stood on your feet. You were depleted of any energy and emotion, and with every cannon that went of you grew a little sicker at the fact that it might've been Finnick. Still, you were determined to reach the beach. If you hadn't found your allies by then, you'd at least hope to catch some fish.

You trudged your way through the shrubs and trees of the terrain, holding your wound tighter as the pain became more prevalent. Regardless, you were still on edge. You had to be. Every rustle, every noise made you ask yourself, Am I in the clear? The answer never unwavered as no until you locked eyes with the man you'd been longing to find. He's with Katniss, Peeta, and a few other tributes you're friendly with, but they couldn't have mattered less at the moment.

"Y/N," Finnick rasped and rushed towards you, your bodies crashing into one another as he pulled you into his embrace.

"Thank god you're alive," He whispered while his tears soaked your shoulder and relief coasted through you like a wave crashing into the shore. You may not've been safe, but he made the monsters feel like trees.

"I'm okay," You murmured and he hugged you harder, his arms enveloping your waist.

"Didn't think I'd die on you, did you?" You joked as he pulled his head back for a moment admiring the face of his lover in front of him. It was as if he was trying to memorize you by detail, every scar, every beauty mark, and the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at him because the fear of losing you at any given moment had become a reality. And that fear increased once he felt your blood on his hands.

He furrowed his brows. "You're bleeding."

"I know."

"Can I?" He asked and you nodded, knowing exactly what his intentions were. He ripped off one of your sleeves, tying it around your waist and you winced quietly, but of course, he heard it.

"I know," He whispered, consoling you as he pulled the sleeve tight. He wiped the grimace off your face with a kiss, one that carried a volume of passion that transcended the work of the greatest poets combined.

"Never do that again," He mumbled and his tone was lighthearted but you know he meant it.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He smiled. "Now let's get out of the woods."

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #the hunger games #catching fire #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n

[wonderlandwalker]

Soon and Sooner | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick makes his way back to you after the arena separated the two of you last night. He is worried about your safety in a place as cruel as this, but he knows in his heart he'll see you soon again. Turns out it wasn't exactly the reunion he had hoped for.

Content Warnings / Tags: Angst, violence, blood, wounds, mentions of death, hurt with no comfort, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how to write long fics I'm sorry, but enjoy this piece of heartbreak that's been stuck in my head xx

Whether or not today was a good day depends on at what point of that day you asked. Finnick was alone, as alone as someone can be in the arena. He wonders at which point a greater plan is at work, and at which point it's a coincidence, but the more he thinks about it, the less he wants to. Maybe you had been separated on purpose, singling everyone out for a carefully curated show, maybe this was simply how things were meant to be. It doesn't matter either way, he tells himself, because he'll find his way back to you soon enough

The leaves rustled around him, and if he had been home the melody would have calmed him, but not here. It wasn't relaxing in the same way a breeze is on a summer day by the lakes, not serene any longer. In the arena it only put him on the edge further, dangerously close to the edge. He had last seen you yesterday, having no choice but to go in opposite directions. But that wasn't what worried him, because he knows how to find his way back, recalls the direction of the rendezvous you were probably waiting at already, all he had to do was get there too.

So he went on, only taking small breaks to refill his water, check his surroundings, make sure he would live to be with you once more. As the day passed and he got closer to his destination, he found himself growing negligent, deciding to worry later about the cut on his leg from the thick branches, not bothering to thread carefully over the ground anymore. He was growing restless, desperate.

It didn't take long for Finnick before he could already see the beach coming closer, determination carrying him far. With every step closer he couldn't deny his growing worry, his worry for you. He knew for sure you had survived the attack yesterday, your picture had not been shown in the sky and he had felt relieved, but this morning there was  a cannon, and he had no idea who that belonged to. He thinks he would know, somehow, if it had been you, that his heart was so irrevocably tied to yours he would have felt the string being cut, but that doesn't stop him from wondering, what if it had been you. What if you had been left with a fatal wound that claimed your life after hours of agony, what if there had been another attack, what if-. No, he would know, and he knows he'll see you again soon, so he continues on.

As he turned through the clearing, he could see you standing there, laughing at some joke Johanna had made. The two of you had always had a soft spot for each other, finding family in even the most dire of circumstances. As he finally saw you, the band around his heart released, no longer being tugged at with every step he took. As he finally got closer to you, he called out for you, knowing you’d reach out for him with the same amount of vigor. As he finally reached out for you, so close to having you in his arms once more, he was lost in the sight of you turning around, beaming at him, only for your expression to drop faster than his heart could. He hadn’t even seen it, hadn’t even thought about it, his sole focus on finding you. If he had paid more attention he might have remembered that he was not alone in this arena, that there were people here hunting you, that he was sharing delicate secrets by shouting them loudly, his mind too clouded by its current storm to even begin predicting the next.

He blinked once, twice, but your eyes were wide, no hesitation as you rushed forward. His mind tricking him with a false narrative of ease in a moment where he should have known better. You rushed for him, and he expected the sweet relief of holding you in his arms, but all you did was reach for his shoulders, spinning him around and out of the path of the tribute he could now see retreating back into the forest. He should have known better than to get lost in the euphoria of your presence, you’d always lecture him for it, ranting about how you’re not worth dying for. As he looked back over to you, expecting you to tell him exactly that and kiss him when he’d promise not to do it again, he wasn't smiling anymore either. His bubble shattered into pieces like the sand he was standing on, joining it in hopes that never came to be.

It was as if you hadn't blocked the hit at all, as if the dagger had found its way into his heart regardless. At first he didn't even see it, too caught up in the look of pain on your face, too determined to fix it for you, but he looked down to see he had assigned himself an impossible task.

He felt like a statue, ever forced to watch the violence of mankind without means of intervering. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and whisper assurances to you, but he was too scared that his white lies would be too crimson from the blood that was dripping down onto the beach. The beach, a place that held so many memories of the both of you, now forever stained by this single day.

Simple seconds ticked by, time he once thanked, betraying him. You dropped to the ground like a wave collapsing in on itself, holding a power too great that must now be returned. And the moment it did, the second your now limp body hit the sand beneath you, finding its final destination, he screamed once more. Maybe it was the shock being forced to wear off too soon, maybe it was the denial he didn't want to leave, but the sight before his own eyes was one he could no longer ignore.

He rushed for you, sliding onto his knees as he reached for you, shouting in agony for you to stand back up, to smile at him and cup his jaw like you always did when he was worried. He yelled at those around him, the people he called his friends, doing nothing to save you. And if he had been paying more attention, he would have heard the cannon just like them, would have heard the sound signaling it no longer mattered, because you were already gone. If he had been level headed he would have known that he was only attracted more attention from the other tributes out there, not that it would have mattered, he would have gladly stayed here for them to kill him, maybe he would have even wished for it, because his world would forever be incomplete without you. He would spend eternity searching for you even if he knew it was fruitless, because to him, you were absolutely worth dying for. Not that you’d let him, you would have never let him, you would lay down your own life before letting him sacrifice his, but he could do without the cruel reminder. 

Yes, he should have realized it was too late, but he couldn't, he couldn't hear anything other than the ringing in his ears from how loud he was screaming for you, desperate for you to comfort him, already longing to feel your fingers sifting through his hair, the one thing that calmed him down when nothing else could. He could feel someone reaching out to him, and he wished they were here to let him join you, wondering if you’d ever forgive him if he indulged the thought. But the touch didn’t bring relief, it was simply another painful truth trying to pull him into a now worthless world. 

He could hear them now, hear them talking about having to move, about getting him to move, it only made him cling to you harder. He could no longer feel your muscles confulsing in slight twitches against his fingers, the stillness was unsettling, but he wouldnt dare let go.

If only he could see the rose flush disappearing from your cheeks, the glimmer in your eyes fading to join the others amongst the stars, here you were, finally in his arms again, but he didn’t enjoy the feeling like he thought he would, here you were, reunited yet never having been able to say hello, never even being able to say goodbye. He wonders if he shouldn't have stopped to drink water from the stream he had passed, thinks about how he could have walked faster, not worried about a time limit he hadn’t even known existed, he ponders the possibilities from each and every second that had separated the two of you, every breath he took without you and every breath he’ll take longing for you now, wishing you’d be there to take it from him. Every step he took and every step he’ll be taking wishing you were at the end of it. 

He had been so sure he would see you soon, that you were still here because he could simply feel it, this time he felt it. He felt the connection being severed, and would spend the rest of his life holding on to his end of it. Would wonder for eternity what would happen if he'd only gotten here sooner.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick x y/n #finnick x reader #angst #finnick x you #finnick fanfic #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick odair #finnick #finnick odair fluff #finnick imagine #mockingjay part 2 #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair imagine #thg series #johanna mason #hunger games #thg

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.1k

Please bear in mind that this is my first fanfic. It will be multiple chapters but release dates are uncertain as I am fairly busy and also procrastination is my best friend. I am open to constructive criticism if you have any. Thanks and enjoy!

Prologue:

The moment President Snow said those words I froze. I couldn’t breathe. Because I could be going back in. Back into the arena. My breath came in short gasps and I leaned against the wall. When I finally gathered the courage to go out the others were already there, Annie, Finnick and Mags. Huddled together in the centre of victor's village, Annie’s face red with tears, Mags opening and closing her mouth in what could only be anger. And Finnick holding himself together, just barely but managing it, holding Annie tightly in his arms as if she was the only thing stopping him from breaking. 

I stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden frame of my house, arms crossing my body. None of them noticed me, I was invisible to them. I was the victor they didn't need, I was just a pretty thing for the capitol to put on display every night. Most of the time I stayed away from victor's village and none of them ever made any attempt to get to know me, I guess I just faded into the background for them. It's not really their fault, they didn't expect me to survive my games, no one did, I was just another tiny thirteen year old in the 68th Hunger Games, no allies, no weapons, no food and no hope. Just a pair of worn ballet shoes and a small bag I had nicked to keep them in. I would have died in the bloodbath had a tribute from 10 not stepped in front of an axe meant for me. I remember the blood splattering across my face as he fell onto me, I had pushed him off, grabbed his bag and ran into the forest. 

I barely managed to survive, the frozen wasteland was unforgiving, animals were scarce but there had at least been enough water. At the end of the first day there had been eight cannons, the second three, the third five, the fourth two, the fifth another two. There were four of us left, the others all career tributes who had plentiful supplies and an alliance. I was able to hide from them for five more days before they had found me. Their leader, Arion from district 2, had shot me in the arm as I tried to get away, I fell and my blood painted the crystal white snow red. They weren't smart now that I think about it, they wanted to play with me; that was their mistake. I killed the girl first, hit her over the head with my ballet shoes, the hard box disorienting her long enough for me to slit her throat with her own knife, the cannon sounded and I killed her district partner as well, piercing his heart with the same knife. That had only left Arion.

I avoided him for a few days but he found me again, probably following the trail of blood I left behind. Except this time I was ready for him. I struck first, flinging my shoes through the air, hitting him on the temple, a trickle of blood falling from the cut formed. He reacted quicker than I expected, swinging his sword wildly, but I was small and fast- like a little bird my mother always said- I threw the knife in a practised motion, letting go of the handle, spinning it slightly, my hand following the line as it hit him dead centre in the chest. He had stared at me. In shock and disbelief that I'd been able to best him. The final cannon went off and I had won. I was the victor of the 68th annual Hunger Games.

For a while it was okay, chauffeured around, fussed over and doted on by my stylists, I was living the dream of every child. But it got old, I became used to people cooing over me, patting my hair, asking me questions. And then I discovered that even if you get out of the arena, you never truly win, you always have to give back something of yourself, a repayment of sorts. You get to live and we get you was how it sounded when President Snow made me the offer. Except it wasn't an offer, it was an order; that's how I found myself as a Capitol slave at the age of fourteen, performing night and day for the rich, barely getting a second's rest. Dancing until my toes bled through my shoes, smearing red across the delicate satin. Singing until my throat was raw and I coughed up the same red my shoes now were. 

The only person who ever offered me some comfort was Finnick. About a month after my games had ended I started having nightmares, I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he would hear me and come over to make sure I was okay. We formed a kind of friendship, me thirteen and traumatised, him seventeen and still carrying on. He would fall asleep watching over me, reassuring me that I was okay, I got out. We fell into a routine and by the time I was fifteen the nightmares were a rare occurrence. Then Annie won and it all changed. She became the priority for him, the priority for everyone, she had been broken in the arena and her mind never seemed to fully return to her. I thought he would come back to me, but as I woke up screaming one night and there was nobody there to hold me while I cried, as another scream pierced the air; a door slammed open and I saw Finnick running across to Annie's house, I knew I had lost him. I had lost the one person who I had loved and who truly seemed to care about me. 

I watched them grow closer to each other. He built her up again brick by brick, unknowingly tearing me apart again piece by piece until I was nothing but an empty shell. He stopped her nightmares, whispering soothing words to her as I tossed and turned, eventually I would wake up, sweating and screaming, eyes wide and frantic as I clutched the knife I kept by my bedside. But no one ever came. I couldn’t blame Annie, she was the kindest person I knew and it wasn't her fault Finnick loved her, it wasn't her fault he didn't love me. 

So I dealt with it. I swallowed the pain that welled up in me and buried every thought I had ever had about him deep in my memory, never to see the light of day again. And it worked, I got on with life, going about my daily routine, dancing, singing, eating, sleeping, then doing it all again. I attended parties in the Capitol, laughing and smiling at people, agreeing with their every word. I wasn't happy, but I didn't need to be, I just needed to be alive.

So that was how I found myself after the announcement of the Quarter Quell, watching Mags, Annie and Finnick from the sidelines. My face blank as they comforted each other, not sparing me a second glance. They had all but forgotten I existed. I waited for them to go inside before I ran out of the large gates separating us from the rest of District 4. I ran along the cliffs, wind whipping my hair into a tangled mess. I reached the edge and stood still, staring out at the roiling ocean, grey waves crashing against the shoreline, foam spraying the cliff face. My heart was pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of the sea. The air grew cold around me as my chest constricted and I gasped for breath. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. 

Tears poured down my face as I sank to my knees and cried. Guttural sobs tearing from my throat, my chest heaving with each one as I clutched the grass beneath me. Fingers digging into the wet soil, clenching and unclenching in time with the beating of my heart as I tried to ground myself. Gradually, my heart slowed and I pulled my hands out of the ground. I breathed shakily, dirt trapped under my nails as I scratched at the skin on my wrist. I lifted it up so I could see the mark laying there. Stark black against pale skin. Forever inked on my body. A trident and a flower, interwoven with each other.  

It was a soulmark. It appeared when I turned 17, as they did for every other person. The person with the same mark is my soulmate, they could be anyone. But I already know who it is even if he doesn't. I saw it one night and then when I got mine I knew immediately but by that point it was already too late. He was already in love with Annie. I stared at it, it wasn't very noticeable, easy to hide from people; pretty as well I suppose, then again they say it's the most beautiful things that are the most dangerous. And this mark, this tiny little mark held the power to destroy me if the wrong person so much as caught a glance of it. I let out a soft laugh, how pointless it all seemed now that everything I had could be taken from me again. I had worked so hard to build up this facade, pretending everything was fine and with a few words it had all come crashing down. 

I shook my head and stood up, giving a last look to the sea as I turned and walked back the way I had come. People talking about the announcement anywhere I pass, I paid them no mind, holding my head high as my feet hit the cobblestones with sharp thwacks. 

“Who do you think will be reaped?”

“It's such a shame really.”

“We only have three victors anyway.”

I ignored them all, they pretended I didn't exist and I'd do the same for them, it's not as if they cared. I finally reached the small gathering of houses the victors lived in and stood outside the gate. The metal tarnished from years of standing in the elements, wooden stakes seeming to wilt under my heavy gaze. I reached out a shaky hand and pushed the metal forwards, opening it only slightly so I could slip in without making the usual clanging sound. I slowly walked towards the fountain in the centre of the square and sat down on the edge, trailing my fingers in the water as my gaze focused on the centrepiece. A mermaid, carved from marble, her hair flowing in the current, tail curving up to the sky, each scale distinguishable. A steely expression was painted on her face, that of a commander, a leader. An odd message from the Capitol, to show the mermaid as being powerful, to show us as powerful, and yet hidden in the water below the statue, in the basin of the fountain, laid a golden net. A message that we had won, but we would always be theirs and we could never escape. 

My hand ran through my hair as I hummed quietly to myself, my other hand drifting along the water as I sat cross legged on the edge of the fountain. My eyes wandered across to Mags’ house where they had all decided to go. They were talking amongst themselves, Mags placing a reassuring hand on Finnick's shoulder and him muttering calming words to Annie. I felt sick, all the feelings I had locked away bubbled back to the surface because why could it not be me? Why was it her? What had I done wrong? My eyes watered slightly as I tried to hold back tears at the sight of them being so sickeningly perfect for one another. Not that it should've been me in his arms but it would be nice to know someone cared enough to check up on me, help me through the hard moments in life. Once upon a time I had thought he was that person and look where that got me, in deeper pain than I had been before. 

I sighed deeply, taking in lungfuls of fresh air, and started up the steps to my house, the front porch, a few small plants in ornate pots, wisteria growing up the trellis, light purple blooms adding a little something to the otherwise grey picture. I took a last look at them across the square, smiles on their faces as if they had forgotten the news we received earlier. I guess that's what happens when you have people you can talk to, who understand and try to help. I twisted the doorknob, stepping inside, closing the door behind me, leaning against it for support. I didn't notice the eyes that watched me. Or maybe I just didn't want to. 

#finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x reader #angst #the hunger games #catching fire #fanfic #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #thg series #implied Finnick x Annie

[s1ater]

nightmares in an empty house.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

summary. after winning the games, you feel yourself going insane in victors village till a certain someone helps you cope

warnings. swearing, sexual themes

ricky rocks. this idea has been in my head for along time and i didn’t really do any of it justice 😕😭

the room smelt of bleach and cinnamon.

your hair was tied in a knot as you scoped out the entree way, dropping your luggage and belongings to the floor with the fall of your shoulders that were still tense and full of pressure in silent agony.

scoping, a lie. you hadn’t paid enough attention to consider your wandering eyes scoping. you were only trying your best to swallow whole of the situation you were presented in.. but it was like trying to swallow a whole jar of peanut butter at once; rather difficult.

you sighed, laying the palm of your cold, clammy hand upon your hot sweaty forehead, squinting at the rather bright kitchen, concealed by the dark entry way. with no lights on and no windows (aside from the small ones built into the door) you were left to the dark, allowing it to swallow you whole. and you allowed it, finally facing the fact and becoming content that you were finally and utterly alone.

you hadn’t been fully aware of it until now.

before, you used to be fully present within the close gathered district four, active and full of energy as you worked your ass off to make ends meet in order to stay afloat. you had made friends, acquaintances, and kissed more than you could count and only for it all to go down the drain.

you were secluded now. kept away from your old but happy nature, leaving you for the new one to take over without your own control. your new nature. that’s what it was. capitol parties, other victors, new acquaintances but never any friends because you could no longer see yourself get close with anyone. dresses, nice clothes, good food, riches, everything one could dream of was now open for grabs, all just for you. but you wanted none of it.

you traveled away from your luggage and out into the kitchen where you were hit with a flood of natural light seeping in through a wall of large windows all next to each other and giving you a view to your backyard of blue. 

you swallowed thickly out of overwhelm before you heard the rather obvious sound of your front door opening. the cue coming from the rust old hinges that made you jump quickly, reaching for the knife you had tucked in the back pocket of your jeans. 

you were frightful, that being the reason you had raised your knife so quickly to the person who entered into your kitchen without invitation, but the light soon revealed the face of finnick who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once upon realization you had a dagger pointed in his direction. 

“woah there, cowgirl,” you sighed, slightly rolling your eyes before dropping the blade down with the relaxation of your shoulders, cursing under your breath to his slight smile, “I see you’re settling in well.” 

you scoffed, smiling in despair as you laid your hand on your forehead, just wanting to pass on right there. he could feel it; your hurt and your pain. it was something he was familiar with. so, so familiar that his own past distress begun to resonate within his chest. he hated it.

“i just wanted to leave this for you,” he coughed, trying to drag away from the awful silence that had consumed the two of you faster than he would have liked. he shifted on his feet, leaning toward the small island that was placed in the middle of your kitchen; setting down a white lily. “a house warming gift.”

he tried his best to give you a bright smile, but a thin lipped one came out instead; filled with sympathy. it made you frown harder. you hate sympathy smiles, especially finnicks and that seemed to be the only thing you’ve been getting from him lately.

“try to get some sleep tonight,” he pressed a soft kiss against the side of your head before turning around and withdrawing.

°•

he came back the next day.

you wanted to punch him due to him walking in out of nowhere and throwing your bedroom curtains open, allowing the bright sunlight to eat at the darkness and consume all corners of your bedroom.

“you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just…” you paused, pressing your lips together, trying to rid of the burning sensation that begun to pull at your eyes; tears. “i need you to um, go.”

his eyes lightly gazed over you from where he stood by the window, his face slightly hard and stern, thinking. the sight of you practically drowning in your sheets and pillows made you look innocent and sad.

“you need to get out of bed, sweetheart,” he took a seat on your plush mattress, his hand resting on your legs through the comforter. “let some fresh air in, you need it.”

“finn, please just leave me alone,” you pressed the palm of your hand to your head, rubbing your forehead. “i just want to lay here.”

“that’s not going to do anything good.”

“yeah, and how would you know,” you sniffed, clutching yourself—feeling so cold in your bones and soul, like your whole anatomy was being soaked in ice water. nothing felt right, you couldn’t think straight.

finnick’s tongue pushed into the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to get annoyed, “i think i would know a little bit about surviving.”

you didn’t say anything. he thought about just walking and leaving you to your sleep, but he felt his chest tighten, knowing that he would have wanted someone there for him after his first games.

he got up from the bed, rounding over and leaning from the other side of the bed to where you laid. you finally saw his face and you wanted to immediately look away, a feeling of guilt and solum hitting your chest hard.

his hand grasped the back of your neck while his head dipped close toward yours, immerse you with his scent and warmth, “i know i’m probably the last person you want to see, but i’m here to help you. i promise.”

his warmth.

“help me sleep then,” you mumbled, not really thinking as your hand loosely grabbing onto his bicep and attempting to pull him closer despite the clear hesitation and resistance he held.

it felt wrong, and he didn’t want to violate a boundary, but with your hand still on his bicep, slowly falling to his hand, you were making things hard.

and he gave in, laying in your bed, right next to you.

°•

“you sure this is okay?”

oh how you didn’t know how this happened; finnick’s body pressed against yours in the foyer with nothing but good intentions that were just sinful.

“yes,” you pressed further into him, reaching for his lips with your own, hoping to drown everything else out, “just kiss me.”

he was hesitant, his eyes searching yours eagerly but he found nothing. your eyes were cold with sad outlines, making you look absent. he laid his rough palm against the side of your cheek, slowly easing his warmth onto you. he knew exactly what you felt, how lonely you were in your very own body and how desperate you were just for someone… someone’s touch and control just so you wouldn’t have to think for yourself.

your eyes fluttered shut and you once again attempt to lean in for a kiss. this time he kissed back, and it seemed like in hindsight, he needed you, not you needing him.

he wanted to make you feel better. wanted your mind to travel elsewhere oppose to where he knew it was exactly right at that moment. he felt it was his responsibility to bring you back stable, even if that required doing something far from right.

you needed help, he wanted to be that help. unfortunately, he was the wrong kind of assistance you actually needed.

his lips cluttered your face, pressing soft kisses that made your stomach twist and turn with what felt like bliss. your head dropped against the back of the wall, small exhales filling the air till you were practically whimpering with his mouth on your neck, his hands grasping every bit of you that he could.

“finn, i need you,” your fingers laced within his hair while you openly spoke without another thought, “please.”

and it was all he needed.

even if he couldn’t take away the nightmares, he could try to take your pain away for just a second.

navigation.

#finnick odair head cannon #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick x annie #finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair #finnick imagine #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #hunger games #the hunger games #thg imagine #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #sam claflin #oswald mosley #peaky blinders #mockingjay #haymitch abernathy

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (i) - You

[15 & 16] - THE CAPITOL

Pine is a simple wood. It grows in abundance, representing purity and innocence. In Eleven, it’s saved for children. Children like Cane. Only thirteen years old, but at the end of his life. He died in the initial bloodbath from a knife in the heart, you saw it yourself as you were running away. You had made eye contact with him for a split second and had contemplated waiting for him behind one of the many buildings encased by overgrown greenery. But, within the next second, those eyes had clouded over and cannon fire rang in your ears.

He looks so small in his pine casket, you note. The pale shade of his little brown face is the only giveaway that he isn’t sleeping.

His parents come to stand before him, withdrawn in their grief for their youngest child. They each place a fruit in his hand: a pear in his left, and an apple in his right. One for himself and another to share with whoever comes to take his soul.

Neem, his brother, holds up his sister Venus, the youngest girl. She is distraught, wails bouncing through the clearing. Their oldest sibling, Vera, hadn’t been permitted to leave the fields to come to the burial.

Chrysanthemums represent death, mourning, life, and goodbyes. Roses represent life, grief, and sadness. You watch as the adults of the town move in to help his family cover him head to toe in the petals. A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

You can’t help but think about how close you came to being the one under all those flowers. You imagine your mom having to place the fruits in your hands by herself. The hand on your shoulder keeps you pinned in place as Venus’s knees buckle. Your mom squeezes you to her side and you look at her tightened face. You aren't the only one imagining it.

The grave has already been dug and above it sits his headstone, a rock bigger than both of your hands combined with his initials and his age carved into it.

C. B.

13

You stare at that rock long after they put him in the ground and cover him in dirt. At the end of the ceremony, all of the children in attendance get in line to hug the family. This one is no different. You’re only fifteen, but you’ve been to many funerals. Only one stands out: your dad’s. 

You remember being ten and getting irritated at how sticky the pomegranate juice made your hands, but you preferred it to the painful lump in your throat. You had to be lifted so you could place the fruit in his cold hands and you don’t think your mom put you down after, holding you close to her chest as the town’s children hugged you.

You’re at the back of the line nervously picking at your nail beds. There’s a certain amount of guilt tied to being the one who survived, especially in the face of the grieving family. You haven’t spoken to them since you got back a month ago—it took a while for the Capitol to return his body—but you know they don’t blame you. That’s just not the way people think in Eleven. You don’t turn against your own.

You’re nervous because you have a bigger part to play other than offering condolences and you promised Cane you’d complete it.

Before you go in to hug his father, you speak.

“I, uh, have something for you.” You pull a small bear figurine out of your pocket, crudely carved from wood. “Cane, he gave it to me to give to his family the night before we went into the arena. Just in case I managed to come back.” Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally. 

And now he’s home.

And that’s what cracks them, you think. His mom’s lips quiver and his dad makes a pained noise when you place it in his shaking grip. And Neem, who has tried to stay strong for his family, gasps around a sob. Venus pulls you into a hug, tears dripping onto your neck.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

-

“Your accent is just darling. Say something else, say something else!” The woman in front of you exclaims. You can’t remember her name, but you’re pretty sure she never introduced herself to you anyway. In fact, you don’t think anyone has introduced themselves to you.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead. "Oh, that is just a treat."

You've officially been the winner of the sixty-seventh Hunger Games for six months and thirteen days. It's the end of your Victory Tour and all you have to do is tolerate the Capitols poking and prodding at you until the night is over. Though, that's easier said than done. 

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

Your dress cinches at your waist uncomfortably. The heels you were forced into press painfully into the calluses on your feet, and you've eaten so many pastries that your jaw aches. Foreign hands pat at your hair, stroking and pulling at the curls as you recount for the fifth time how you escaped the tributes from District Five. 

"I climbed to the top of a building and jumped between rooftops while they looked for me on the ground—" 

“Skip to the part where you get your scythe!” Someone yells from the crowd, cutting you off. You purse your lips and bite your tongue so hard that you taste metal.

"Alright. Two days in, I was…gifted a scythe from a sponsor—" 

"And you used it beautifully!" Another person calls from your left. 

"Yes, that move you pulled off against that poor boy from Nine was simply marvelous!" A voice shouts from behind you. You remember him. How could you forget? The "move" you pulled off wasn't intentional. As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife. 

He was the first person you killed in the arena. The first thing you had ever killed.

You bite into a muffin, and it tastes like ash on your tongue. 

You try to ignore the multiple hands on your shoulders, arms, and neck; all moving to touch any bare skin they can reach. But it's hard to ignore soft hands that have never known a day of work. Much different from your own calloused palms, made rough from your days of harvesting crops and climbing high in trees to pick fruit. 

You keep quiet as they talk at you, never actually trying to engage you in the conversation. You grimace as a hand touches your face. 

"God, you are stunning—isn't she stunning?" A taller man smiles down at you with golden teeth, moving your face this way and that with his sharp nails. 

"Oh, just gorgeous! Who knew they were hiding such a diamond in the Agriculture district, of all places?" The group breaks out in howling laughter, as if the very notion of something worthwhile coming out of District Eleven is outlandish. Somehow, both a joke at your expense and one they expect you to join in on. 

You're willing to bet all of your earnings that none of these people have the slightest idea about life in Eleven, what it's like to be truly hungry. Children are being hung for stealing food and here they are, gorging themselves just to throw it all up. You're shaken by the thought that you are completely alone here. Forced to endure the abrasive attention of the Capitol residents until they grow bored with you. You contemplate how easy it would be to escape. You aren't sure how much longer you can go with people petting you like a domesticated animal. Maybe, if you make yourself sick from drinking those vomit-inducing drinks, you could make a strategic retreat with minimal fuss. "Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen," a smooth voice breaks through the crowd before a lithe body follows. The man—or boy, rather—is tall, all tan skin and sun-bleached-hair. Every eye falls on him as soon as he steps up, and you can understand why. Finnick Odair. He's objectively attractive; beautiful, even. You can tell from the brazen way he holds himself that he already knows that. Pink lips are settled in a smug smirk, but they don't take away from his eyes. If you were a writer, you could have authored a thousand and one poems about those eyes alone. "You wouldn't mind me stealing tonight's guest of honor for a dance, would you?" It's quiet, and the crowd looks at each other. They clearly don't want to give you up—their brand-new toy. But who can say no to Finnick Odair? Exclaims of oh, certainly and of course are called out before he comes to stand in front of you. Someone pulls the saucer of miniature cakes and cookies from your death grip and you feel bare before him. You had seen him two years ago during his games. Then, six months after that he came to Eleven for his Victory Tour, apologizing to the families of people he didn't know nor care about. He was just another pretty Career laughing and being gushed over on Caesar Flickerman's couch, pretty low on your list of priorities. But now—well, it was one thing to see him on screen, it was another to be in front of him. It's a lot like standing in front of the ocean, you imagine. You had seen it secondhand, through train windows and simulated in arenas, but nothing could prepare you to see it in person. He doesn't push you to take his hand, just holds it out in front of him like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows you'll take it, eventually. The temptation to reject him is strong. You’d pay money to see the look on his and everyone else's faces if you said no and walked away. 

You reach forward and a callused palm meets your own. You trust him as much as you do everyone else vying for your attention here, but he's the lesser of two evils. You tense up as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself to be surrounded. But he doesn't lead you to the center of the dancing mass like you thought he would. Instead, you both linger on the edge, barely close enough to be a part of the crowd. He faces you and asks, "May I have this dance?" Overly formal in a way that nobody else here has been with you. 

"We're already here, aren't we?" You say as if you weren’t just contemplating leaving him behind. You step closer to him as the band starts a new song, your right hand holding his left and the other on his shoulder. His free hand lays on your waist, a fraction above the slit on the side of your dress. 

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down. 

You narrow your eyes. “What’re your thoughts on lying?”

He inhales slowly, head tilting side to side contemplatively. “Depends. Am I the one lying?” You shake your head. He shrugs. “Then, I hate it.”

“Then, I won’t answer,” you shrug back. He lets out a puff of air from his nose, a laugh?

"I'm surprised Seeder isn't here with you. She talked you up a big game, you know. Very confident that you'd win." His eyes sweep over the crowd of dancing couples before settling on you. “Guess, I should have bet on you too, huh?”

You don’t know how you feel about that. Why would Seeder be that confident in a semi-malnourished fifteen-year-old with no combat skills? 

You definitely wouldn’t have bet on yourself. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve put money into one of the Careers. Maybe that one girl from Two—perhaps the most muscular person you’ve ever seen. She was benching at least twice her body weight in the Training Center, but you think it was just an intimidation tactic. Though, a pointless one, since she didn’t even make it out of the Cornucopia. You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. “I wouldn’t have if I were you. But now that you've actually seen me, do I meet all the expectations she set?” You partially joke. Partially because as much as you hate to admit it, you are curious. Why you’re curious about what he thinks of you will remain a mystery. “Now that I've actually seen you? No,” you look up at him in shock before he grins like a shark, teeth on display. "You exceed them. Don't get me wrong. You were beautiful on screen, but the TV doesn't do you justice." He does little to hide the once-over he gives you. It was meant to be caught. You don't know what to say. You've been excessively complimented and fawned over since you were reaped, but somehow, it felt different coming from him. His gaze felt different. Like he actually saw you. You throw that thought away. Finnick is a known flirt—a playboy. He means nothing by it and neither does the look in his eyes. "She's pregnant. Seeder," you clarify, abruptly changing the topic. “About seven months along. She's resting at the hotel.” Traveling for so long had taken its toll. Not to mention the stress of just being in the Capitol. Snow, the bastard, wouldn't let her stay behind, even though Chaff was willing to take her place as your mentor on the tour. "Ah, congratulations are in order then."  

"Please,” you scoff. “I'm sure you didn't come up to me just to talk about Seeder." Your gaze bounces around his face as you do everything in your power to avoid eye contact with him.

“Why not? I can’t ask about a good friend?” 

“If you’re such “close friends” shouldn’t you have already known she was pregnant?”

“Touché.�� He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means. “I came up to you because you looked like you were one more scone away from using it as a weapon." The laugh you let out is a surprise to you both and you have to bite your cheek to stifle it. You haven’t been doing a whole lot of laughing over the past six months.

"Was I that obvious?" He's quiet for a moment as he stares at you and you don't dwell on it. Instead, you focus on the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. 

You're only a year younger than him and, yet, there's something about him that feels far older than any other sixteen-year-old you've met. The way he carries himself—something sharp-edged hidden under indifference, an alertness in his eyes that you're sure mirrors your own. "To anyone who cared to look," his voice deepens as he hums. It really is smooth. "Definitely." "Am I supposed to believe that the Capitol's darling cares about little ol' me?" "So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. “Who doesn't?” It’s been two years and people are still talking about his games. And for good reason, you have to admit.

"Touché...again.” He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve—” "Seriously, what're you hoping to achieve here? You've gotta have a motive. Everyone does.” You push, cutting to the chase and sounding more accusatory than you meant to. But, he’s a victor too, right? Maybe you can toe the line here without repercussions waiting on the other side.

"Hmm, blunt. Even you?" He questions, continuing when you nod. "What's your motive for dancing with me, then?"

You could have said no to this dance, but that would’ve meant staying surrounded by them. This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

"I'd do just about anything to escape those vultures," you pause. Then, feeling emboldened, add, "And I guess you're not terrible to look at." If you were going to be forced to stay here, you might as well find your fun where you can. And talking to Finnick is fun. Undoubtedly, the only fun you've had all night.

"Oh, thank you," he laughs, mirth coloring his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "You know, I was worried about that." 

"Is that so?" You smile, trying, and failing, to not step on his feet. 

"Definitely," he pauses for a second, seemingly deciding on something before answering your question, "It’s just that—you remind me of someone. They got wrapped up in the Capitol; thought they could handle the…” he makes a wide sweeping gesture to the gluttonous pageantry around you and you get it. The extravagance, the theatrics, the Capitol of it all. “But the Capitol asked for more than they were willing to give. And, well...I couldn't save them." His eyes look glazed as he trails off. His face is grim, his smile gone so fast it's almost like it was never there to begin with. You find that you want it back. "And you want to save me?" You guess, heart in your throat.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The people here? Every single one of them wants us. They want to talk to us, touch us, sleep with us," you swallow at the look in his eye. "But they don't see us as people." He leans towards you and you freeze. For a split second, you think he's going to kiss you. That doesn’t scare you. Instead, he hovers by your ear. What would you have done if he had kissed you? You don't think you would've moved away. That scares you. "Me and you," he hums, lips against your ear, "Well, we might as well be a completely different species to them. We're lesser than. Beloved pets at most, tamed beasts at least." 

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You live in Eleven, after all. There’s a reason no one goes looking for the kids that go missing from the fields. According to the people in charge, there’ll always be another to take their place. You sigh through your nose and turn away, but immediately turn back to Finnick when you make eye contact with the smiling man with gold teeth. 

He shakes his head, lips curled into a frown of disgust, "Look at them, the way they linger at the edge of the crowd." The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back as he spins you. "You see how desperate they are to get in your good graces?" You peek over his shoulder at the people watching you, teeming with anticipation. 

"Is that not what you're doing?" You ask, your cheek pressed to his. "Trust me, sweetheart. If I was trying to gain your favor, it'd be somewhere a little more private with a lot less talking." He doesn't give you enough time to reply, not that you know how, before continuing. "I'm doing the same thing I've done since I was reaped," he lowers his voice, almost like he's imparting some kind of secret. To the right person, maybe he is. "Surviving. I'd suggest finding your allies now if you wanna do the same." And then he turns to place a chaste kiss against your cheek. To anyone watching the two of you, it would look like he's just flirting with you. You shiver as he pulls away from you, taking all the warmth with him. He looks down at you for a moment longer, locking you in his gaze. You had never really seen the ocean, you remind yourself, but, through him, you're staring at it now. Vast and limitless. All-consuming. He brings your knuckles to his smooth lips, and he smirks. The urge to shiver is alarmingly strong as his mouth moves delicately against the skin of your knuckles as he begins to speak. "Until next time." You catch the shimmer in his sea-green eyes. It has to mean something, something worth pursuing. You've never known the ocean, but as you watch Finnick walk away into the crowd of adoring Capitols, you think you could grow to like it. There's a drive in him that's rare to see outside of Eleven, let alone in the Capitol, and it further proves your assumption right. There’s a kinship between the districts that only the victors are privy to—you and Finnick might be cut from the same cloth, and that’s made even more apparent by the way the masses move in to surround you both. You jump as trumpets sound around you and a spotlight shines on the balcony. You missed your chance to escape. It's time for Snow's speech. 

Present (I) - You

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

It’s winter in Eleven. There’s little worse than winter in Eleven. You must have forgotten to close your window when you left in a rush because the air in your room is practically crystallized, and you mull over the idea of igniting your fireplace but decide against it.

Normally, you would go to the Capitol after being invited to a party, your prep team would scrub and shave you from top to bottom, and Snow would introduce you to your client for the night. Then, you would stay in your hotel room and have time to recoup before you left. But, this time, there was no party. Only a very important partner of Snow’s who is not a patient man. So you left in the early morning and made the trip back the next day as the sun was rising. Seven hours there, seven hours back. You’re dead on your feet and your bed has never looked more tempting. You stand before your vanity and grab a makeup wipe, dragging it over your face and revealing the bags under your eyes. You're tired, bone tired. You kick your heels off. You unzip the back of your dress and let it fall to the ground. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you press on one of the bruises littering your neck. You follow the trail to the top of your chest, breast, stomach, and hips. You frown at yourself. What a pitiful painting you make. "It's starting!" Your mom calls from down the hall and you sigh, looking at your bed mournfully. You'd usually avoid Snow's announcements like the plague, you don't want to look at him more than you already have to, but it's different this time. It's the Quarter Quell. The last Quarter Quell had double the amount of tributes, and Haymitch told you how he only won by the skin of his teeth. So, despite yourself, you're curious to see what kind of nightmare Snow comes up with. There's also something else driving you. A man you met in passing at the party. Plutarch Heavensbee. He was strange, but a different kind than you were used to from the Capitols. He's taking the place of Head Gamemaker after Seneca Crane's untimely death. He spoke in riddles, always hinting at things of importance without saying anything at all. And there's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind surrounding something he said. "I understand that there’s a certain kind of…job that President Snow has employed you for. If I told you there was a chance to put an end to it, what would you say?" "I'd say you should cut back on the Morphling." "I assure you, I'm sober," he laughed, "I can't go into detail right now. I just need to know, when the time comes, that I can trust you to fight." Fight. It’s an interesting term, but you wonder if it has the same definition for him as it does for you. You doubt it. Very rarely is there ever any overlap between the way of thinking for Eleven and the Capitol. The people of Eleven fight every day and you’ve heard the other districts have finally picked up on the habit. Riots upon riots upon riots and it’s all thanks to the kids from Twelve. You still can't decipher what he was telling you and you’d usually chalk it up to the regular Capitol jargon. But there was something, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on. 

You throw pajamas on, something soft that won't irritate you, and walk to the living room. "Here: sugar, berries, and licorice root, just the way you like it." Your mom hands you the cup and pretends she doesn't see the marks on your body. You're thankful. She looks tired too, older. "Thank you, Ma." You say, for more than just the tea. "Of, course. Now, sit, sit. He's walking out." You settle gingerly on the couch beside her, sorer than you thought, and pull your legs under you as Snow stands behind a podium. He lets the audience quiet down before beginning. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." You drink carefully from your cup as he continues, steaming liquid burning the roof of your mouth. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," you place your cup on the table and fidget with your bracelet as Snow pulls a letter from an envelope, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped—" "No." The hairs on your arms stand on end. You brace for the blow. "—from the existing pool of victors in each district." "No. No, no, no, that's not, that's not right." You shake your head. It doesn't take long for your mom to start sobbing beside you and you…you can't breathe. 

You suck a breath in and it feels like it's being funneled through a filter. Not enough, not nearly enough. Your heart's beating fast, faster, the fastest it’s ever beat and you're getting lightheaded. You stand up on shaking legs and stumble to the door, glass shatters as you knock a vase over in your pursuit. You need more air, you need, you need—you step out onto the snow-covered porch, submerging your bare feet in the white powder. It’s odd, it rarely snows here.

You kneel down and grab fistfuls of snow, smearing the ice on your face and grounding yourself. You breathe and you rationalize. You can breathe. You're taking in frigid lungfuls of air and you are breathing. You stare down the long walkway leading to your home, covered in both ice and snow. Across from that walkway is a cow pasture and past that pasture are woods. Vast and open and if you will it, no one would be able to find you. You wouldn’t be able to leave, not with the giant electric fence surrounding the district, but they wouldn’t find you. 

But Snow could find your mom. 

You stay out there until your feet and hands go numb. And then you stay until it hurts to move your fingers and toes, the skin of your shins and knees prickling with the temperature drop. You stay until your mom drags you in herself. "Let's warm you up." She says, but she's mostly talking to herself. She wraps you in a blanket and sits you on the couch. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with a fresh cup of tea. Saliva gathers in your mouth at the thought of drinking anything, so you use it to warm your hands instead. 

“Oh, look what you’ve done to yourself.” You look to where she’s hovering over the carpet. Red footprints lead from the door to where you are now. You must have stepped on the broken pieces of the vase. You wait for the sting of pain to come now that you’re aware of the wound, but there’s nothing.

“I’ll go get something to clean you up with—”

“Can you just…can you just sit with me?” You ask and look away when you catch her frenzied gaze.

“Yeah, of course, baby. Of course.” The couch dips with her weight as she sits beside you.

By now, Caesar Flickerman is recapping the announcement to the audience with his cheery co-star. You can never remember his name. You're as still as a statue as Caesar goes over a list of remaining victors. You don't move when your mom holds onto you. She holds you and she holds you and she cries for you. You don’t think you have any more tears left in you.

“Now, it always hurts to say goodbye, Claudius, but I can admit there are a few lovely victors I’m particularly attached to.” Oh, you think, that’s his name. Doubtful that you’ll remember it.

“Yes, Caesar, I completely agree. Here’s one of mine now. From District Four: Finnick Odair!” Your eye starts to twitch, lower lid spasming. They play clips of him. Finnick waving to the audience as he walks on stage, Finnick posing for the camera at a photo shoot, Finnick walking down the red carpet at a movie premiere.

You imagine footage of him being reaped for the Quell and saliva is gathering in your mouth again, stomach flexing as you gag. You double over, nausea washing over you as you try to keep what little is in your stomach down. Absently, you feel a hand rubbing your back in wide, soothing circles that aren’t doing a lot to soothe you.

You were wrong. You do have tears left in you.

-

A/N: 1.) your arena is inspired by Valle dei Mulin in Italy 2.) The people of 11 all have farm and gardening-related names. (Neem tree, venus flytrap, aloe vera, Mass Cane) 3.) Cane had a crush on the reader similar to Peeta's initial crush on Katniss 4.) Each district has a different accent depending on their geography

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐻𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁

Summary: The after math of your confession to Finnick and how true your words meant when you promised to bring him home.

Pairing: Finnick Odiar x Reader

Word count: 927

Warnings: Death and angst.

A/N: read part 1 here

Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, as he has Finnick in his hold, the knife in his hand is close to Finnick's neck. You think quickly grabbing the knife on your belt and throwing it through the air in a matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. He releases Finnick and Glass drops dead and a cannon blast. 

You run straight to Finnick. " Are you okay!?" you lift your hands and examine his neck and body making sure he was not injured. Once you knew he was okay you pulled him into a tight hug. " I thought I was going to lose you fin" You hug him tighter, and he wraps his arm around you "I'm not that easy to kill" he chuckles. You pull back and look into his eyes and you can see something changing in them, his eyes hold a loving gaze, the gaze he gives Annie. " Never scare me like that again" 

Finnick was about to say something when a movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next. You see Cashmere throw a spear your way. 

 "Finnick!" you push him out of the way and he falls. Before you could throw your knife Katniss was on it. She buries her arrow in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her. 

A cannon blasts and you look down to see Cashmere’s spear impaled in your abdomen. You drop to your knees. " fin" you call weakly and he's there in a seacon. " Shit, Y/n" he moves you lay in his lap and you pulled the spear out. " It's okay" he tries to reason with you but you can see the fear in his eyes. Kathiass and the others join you as Finnick holds you. " I kept my promise fin, You'll be okay" You reach your hand up to cup his cheek as you feel yourself slowly slipping.

 " Don't say that, you'll be okay. I'll get you home" Tears began to spill from his water line, and you rub them away with your thumb. " I love you Finnick Odair" You smile one last time knowing now it was only a matter of time before it would be all over and Finnick would be safe. You see the light fading and your hand goes limp against his face falling to your chest.  

Finnick panics " No! Y/N! Stay with me please! Please godman it!" he cries as he leans down rocking the both of you. tears soak his face as he watches your lifeless body in his arms. " We have to move," Kathiss says with a broken voice as she witnesses yet another one of her friends die due to snow. Finnick looks at her heartbreak written all over his face, he knows Katniss is right but can't force himself to leave. He looks at you one last time as he moves to lay you down. " I love you too, always" he whispers as he closes your eyes and places a kiss on your forehead. 

When Finnick opened his eyes he knew he must have been dreaming because the last thing he remembered was one of the mutts draining him back down into the water. The remaining mutts end up overwhelming him and devouring him, and then Katniss uses the Holo's self-destruct. 

He moves around to see that he is somewhat familiar but can't pinpoint where, he moves to sit up and looks around the room and then it hits him. He's in your room but it can't be because it was been nearly months ago since you died in the arena in his arms. He hears movement from downstairs and is quick to get up and exit your room. 

He hears your voice coming from the kitchen, when he turns the corner he loses his breath at the sight of you. "Y/N?" he questions softly. Your head turns to the sound of his voice " Finnick?" you drop the dishes and move toward him. " are you real? Is this real?" he questions as you look exactly how he remembers. " I could say the same about you" you question back walking up to him, hesitantly placing your hands on his face. "You are real, this is real" You begin to cry and you pull him into a tight hug. He doesn't hesitate to hold you close to him.

" h-how is this possible you died, I saw you die in my arms" his voice breaks remembering that day. You pull back cupping his face in both yoru hands wiping his tears. " I did die, but if you are here.. that means you died as well. That's the only way to explain why you are here with me" You smile sadly at him. It makes little sense to him, he's sure there was no way of saving him when the mutts got him.  

" Is this heaven he questions?" you laugh at his question. " in a way it is here it is more peaceful, no war, no games just peace, but it gets lonely" You look up into his eyes and see that loving gaze again, he pulls you close to his face, his lips connect to yours and it's as if everything is where it's meant to be he pulls back smiling at you " Let's be lonely together" 

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #finnick angst #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick fanfic

[finnickfan8]

Sad Girl

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort (I love these)

Warnings: Suicide attempt, Cannon Typical Violence, alcohol use

You clutched the purple berries in one shaky hand. It was just you and Finnick. You and your best friend, Finnick. Your thoughts were fixated on the memory of the two of you on your happiest day.

The two of you had just bought some treats from the local bakery. The day before the reaping was your annual beach picnic with Finnick. The two of you would save up on allowance and lunch money for months to afford the finest delicacies that District 4 had to offer. With your assortment of meats, baked goods, and sweets, the two of you would walk hand and hand to the salty shores of Panem.

“To the 65th Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” Finnick toasted with a chocolate chip cookie. He was mocking your escort. Both of you dug in, leaving nothing but crumbs as evidence of your feast. Finnick being a fourteen year old boy had eaten most of it but you were satiated so it never perturbed you much.

“If I ever got chosen for the games, I’d definitely win by playing dumb.” You proclaimed. Finnick laughed at your antics. You knew the severity of the Hunger Games but never really felt that you would be the one picked.

“Well, I think they’d take one good look at my dashing face and declare me the winner.” You grinned at his cocky statement. He wasn’t wrong, he was probably the most handsome boy in Panem. If not, the world. “And of course when I would win, you’d be at my side throughout my Victory Tour. Together forever?”

“Together forever.” You repeated, leaning your head on his muscular shoulder.

“Even after death?” He held out his pinky for your signature pinky promise.

You locked your pinky with his outstretched one. “Even after death.” You never broke a pinky promise.

Now here you were, about to leave your childhood crush so he could live in luxury for the rest of his many days. You wouldn’t really be breaking your promise because you would be with him just not physically, you thought.

You took a deep breath. You felt your breath skid over the surface of your anxiety. Resulting in a shaky breath to slip past your quivering lips. Your now quaking hand raised the Nightlock to your trepidatious lips. You set an image of Finnick in your hazy mind to remember why you’re doing this.

Before the purple fruit could pass the wall of your lips a tanned hand slapped them away. You opened your eyes to stand face to face with Finnick Odair. The way his sea green eyes locked with yours was evocative of home and your life before.

“You tried to break our promise?” A deluge of melancholy tainted his typically mellifluous voice. Tears moistened your despondent eyes. You wrapped your arms around him as if he was your last hope. It was just you and him in the arena, just as it felt to be only you two in the world at that moment.

“I need you to win.” The river of tears broke the barricades of your face in a violent crestfallen storm. “I’d die a million agonizing deaths for you.” Finnick cupped your cheek with one hand. He pressed his velveteen lips to your dehydrated ones.

The alarms signifying a winner blared at the two of you. What you hadn’t known was that the Capitol audience had threatened to refuse viewing the next games if their favorites died. Snow eventually gave in to their effervescent demands.

Now you were on your 5th yearly victory tour with Finnick. You had found sollis in pretending to be sick so you could sneak away to drink and smoke. Your relationship with Finnick had prospered since the games and you were more in love than ever with the coastal boy. That didn’t mean the trauma didn’t stab itself in to your mind, carefully weaving itself in to your every thought.

You were now cradling your vodka bottle, sipping as if it was water from an oasis in a sweltering desert. You knew Finnick had been through more than you in the past three years and he wasn’t drinking. You were supposed to be his rock but you were more of a mess than your beloved.

Finnick was birdwatching with Mags, something Mags loved. Mags would point out different birds and have Finnick name them. When she was still able to speak, she’d taught Finnick the names of the birds. The memory of the names now eludes her. Mags gestures towards the direction you shuffled towards after feigning illness.

“Don’t worry, i’ll go check on her.” Finnick patted Mags reassuringly on the back. Mags just nodded in response. Showing that she approved of his actions. Mags cared for you in every way she could. One of those ways was Finnick.

He got up from the cushioned windowsill that he was sat upon. His shoes moved silently against the carpet floor that covered the train. His fingers traced the mahogany doorframe before twisting the metal doorknob.

When he entered the room, your face dropped. All you could do was hide the bottle behind you like a child who just got caught disobeying their parent. You knew he’d see your partially emptied bottle of vodka and your chest dropped in despair. You were to be there for him and here you were; drunk out of your mind.

“Honey,” he stepped in to the dim lamplight of the bedroom. “what are you doing?” You saw how disappointed he was with you and it was like his eyes had pierced your chest. His words drug the knife down, splitting you open. While your own guilt gutted you from the inside out.

“I’m” was all you could manage to spit out before crying in shame. “I’m sorry.” He took another step towards your vulnerable body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” You screamed, rocking back and forth. You felt like you were in the games again. You just constantly held Finnick back. You snapped back when your shoulders were grabbed.

“Look at me, Honey.” You followed his order. “I’m going to get you some water and a snack. Once you’re sober, we are going to talk about this. Okay?” You only nodded pathetically at his response. He hurriedly fetched you water and some crackers. He set them down to the left of you before plopping down next to your goodies.

“Kiss.” You demanded in a drunken slur. You puckered your lips at him and leaned in to his side before he deflected your declaration of love. He had turned his head and your lips made contact with his ear. You picked your saggy head up just enough to pout at him.

“I’ll give you a kiss between every time you take a sip of this water.” He shook the bottle at you for emphasis. “And eat this cracker.” You snatched the cracker that he was dangling in front of you out of his hand. Before shoving it in your mouth barbarically. You wash it down with a gulp of water.

“Kiss.” You demanded yet again, but this time it was more agitated. Finnick smirked at you before giving in and pressing his lips to yours for a second. “Seriously? A Peck?” You pouted. In defiance you shoveled the entire pack of crackers in to your mouth, chomping aggressively at them. You then chugged the entire bottle of water. “A real kiss Bitch.” You glared at him menacingly. Or so you thought.

His soft hands collect your face as this time he pulls you in for a real kiss. He didn’t mind that you cussed at him or glared at him. He actually found your attempt at vitriol rather endearing. After many “I love you Finnick”s, several “You’re so pretty”s, and a lot of cuddling, you sobered up.

“Welcome back My Love.” You begrudgingly groaned in response. You had been force fed (lovingly encouraged) water and various foods. You snuggled up against him. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You were numb at this point to your fears. You knew Finnick would protect you. “I can’t deal with the nightmares.” You admit. “The screams of the District 2 girl I stabbed after I called her my ally ring throughout my head. And her blood feels like it’s permanently splattered on my hands no matter how good I wash. She’s there, she’s haunting me.”

“She probably understands, Love. What the Capitol does is vial. They bloviate about their cushy life while we starve. Then we have to fight to death in the arena and die inside to be physically alive? She would know that you had to.” Finnick always eased your usually sullen mood. You wished he’d let you in when he felt like this but he would rather be there for you. You needed him to be there for you even if it made you feel like the weight of the world was with you.

Finnick was your haven. Finnick was your person and you were his. He protected you now just as he did in that arena. His Love, his Baby, his Sugar, his Honey, his Shell, his Y/N. He’d loved you for what felt like forever now and he’d love you always. In every universe you’re his soulmate. If in any universe you’re not, he’s bound and determined to change that.

Finnick gets flashbacks too. Except, the only comfort he needs is to see your shining face when he gets home. He loves his girl.

You love your Finnick

#the hunger games #hunger games #finnick #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #hunger games finnick #mockingjay

[moethewriter]

You are an absolutely sensational writer!! I am obsessed with all of your fics rn, so amazing!! :)

If possible, please could you write a fic with the angst prompts 6, 20 and 22, with Finnick?

If not no worries! I look forward to reading all your future work <3

Of course I can anon! This one is a long one and almost made me cry, so buckle up and I hope you enjoy! TITLE: The things we love, always sting the most WORD COUNT: 2.3k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Possible character death, talks of killing another person, angst, poison, the whole works! TAGS: Lot's of angst, canon violence, possible poisoning, fighting, possible character death.

A/N: So this was a sad one to write my friends! I hope you enjoy, not beta read as always and I take constructive criticism as per usual! -

You were breathless as you headed towards the jungle with Katniss, Peeta, Mags and Finnick. The fight at the cornucopia had been brutal. Weapons had flown from every direction, and you had fallen into the water. You weren’t the biggest fan of being wet but there wasn’t anything you could do about that now.

You were lost in your own thoughts as you walked further. You had just watched people you had known for years fall in seconds. People you had been friends with … your district partner, Hyvar, had died. You hoped that Johanna, Wiress and Beetee were safe, somewhere they could regroup and find their way to you. You had watched people you had known for years fall in seconds. You just hoped that Johanna, Wiress and Betee had all found one another and were safe as they could be.

The sound of the cannon going off made your body shrivel, almost as if it had transported you back to your own games. You had been sixteen and forced to kill people … kill other children, and that canon was a stark reminder that it wasn’t over yet. It would never be over.

At least you had Finnick, the one person who kept you sane throughout everything. You hadn’t watched his games, your mother not allowing you to watch such senseless acts of violence, she had always been against the games. It was strange to stand side by side with him in this, but you were grateful for his presence.

Another cannon went off.

“Well I guess we're not holding hands anymore.” Finnick chuckled, a small smile spreading across his face. 

“Finnick.” You snapped, trying to shut that thought down. 

Those people were the few in this world who understood what it was like to be a Victor, a pawn for the Capitol. Some of them had been your friends. 

“You think that's funny?” Katniss questioned him, a passive look on her face. You couldn’t quite read her yet, but you knew that she wasn’t happy. 

“Every Time that cannon goes off it’s music to my ears.” Finnick said, as though that should be obvious. He was steady, not swaying, clearly in game mode. “I don’t care about any of them.”

“That’s-” You started …

But Katniss pulled a sword from its sheath.

“Good to hear.” She said, simply, face remaining unchanged. 

“No.” You said raising your hands between them, you were all supposed to be allies … fighting together in this moment. There needed to be some semblance of peace, even if it was tentative and rocky. “We may not like this, but we're allies, right? So let’s act like allies.” You felt as though you were parenting two young stubborn children.

For the first time in a long time you didn’t understand what was going through his head, what was his game here and why hadn’t he talked to you about it? You had been together since you were both eighteen, now twenty four, and while this situation wasn’t ideal … you felt as though he flipped a switch in his mind. This side of him wasn’t something you particularly liked, and you certainly didn’t want to play peacekeeper if they were going to be at each others throats.

“Right.” Finnick said. “Besides, what would Haymitch say?”

“Haymitch isn’t here.” Katniss gritted her teeth.

“Let’s keep moving.” Peeta spoke up, starting to move from his spot.

You were thankful that someone else was level headed.

You all moved deeper into the jungle, silence falling over the group. The sound of crunching leaves, and dirt being the only thing filling the air. Your games had been in a desert terrain, so you felt out of your element. You were used to sand, rocks and dunes covering the earth around you, not thick and lush jungle. At least the trees provided better cover than some rocks, though water was proving just as difficult to find.

After long hours of walking you had found a place to secure Mags so everyone could go off and find some food or water. You weren’t particularly fond of the thought of splitting up, not trusting that Katniss and Peeta would come back, and not trusting yourself alone with Finnick, you were still angry about the interactions on the beach.

You walked with Finnick in silence, eyes and ears peeled for the sound of moving animals or the possible sighting of berries. It felt awkward to be alone with him, but … you loved him, you couldn’t deny that.

“Hey.” Finnick said, grabbing your hand lightly.

“Don’t touch me.” You snapped, anger in your voice. “What the hell was that? Treating Katniss and Peeta that way? Talking about the other tributes like that? They’re our allies, Finnick, don’t fucking play coy with me here. I’m not an idiot and neither are you, maybe try harder?” You sucked in a breath, hoping to calm yourself down,

“Y/N-”

“No. Finnick I love you, I do … just try harder with them, she’s distrustful and we don’t need that.” You said, finally looking at him.. “We don’t need to talk about this right now. I just … just give me some space. I’m angry. I don’t want to be angry with you.” You told him, pinching the bridge of your nose.

The Capitol was watching, Snow was watching. You didn’t need Finnick or yourself sorting through emotional baggage or providing entertainment by fighting for the world to see.

Finnick had a persona, that was something you knew. But that wasn’t Finnick, and what you couldn’t understand is why he didn’t want to be himself. Was it the sponsors? Was it the fact that everyone could see your every move in here? You hadn’t been able to talk much before entering the arena, so you only knew the basis of what he was going to do, and the plan Haymitch had told you.

Gods above, that plan. How in the hell were you going to make sure that Katniss and Peeta got out of this alive if they barely trusted you? There was so much that needed to be done in here, and you couldn’t do it alone. But Finnick was not helping in the slightest, or that’s what you felt like. ,

“Listen …” He tried.

“We should get back to Mags, there isn’t any food here … hopefully they found some water or something.” You sent him a small hopeful look, before turning back towards where you came from.

–

Peeta almost dying was not something that you had accounted for. The forcefield had shot him back out of nowhere, and the amount of time you had all spent desperately trying to help him breathe again had been agony. 

This game felt far worse than anything you had gone through before. It was clear that something was off about the whole arena, you just weren’t sure what it was yet. 

“Do you hear that?” Finnick whispered, looking towards the trees. 

You hadn’t, but you immediately jumped into action and grabbed your sword. You were always on high alert, and you weren’t going to let anything touch anyone here. 

“I’ll go check it out and meet you guys back here, later.” You said, moving to stand. You needed some time to breathe, and protecting everyone was the main priority. In your mind this was a win-win situation. 

“You can’t go alone.” Finnick, protested standing to go with you.

You held up your hand to stop him. “Finn, stay here … protect Mags and everyone else. I can handle myself.” You told him.

You weren’t sure what was out there, no one was, but you had your chosen weapon and a spiteful rage deep within you. You were sure you could handle what was to come.

“Y/N-” He tried to protest again.

“They need protection. I’ll be fine.” You told him, heading off towards the woods on your own. 

You kept low as you crept through the jungle, looking for what could have alerted Finnick. Your eyes barely adjusted to the darkness that surrounded you, a stark contrast to the bright lights of the fire you had been in front of just moments ago. You kept walking, caution lacing every move you made. 

The jungle felt far too quiet as you made your way towards a clearing, how far had you gone from camp? Nothing around you seemed familiar anymore and you weren’t sure why … What the hell was going on?

“Shit!” You felt a small sting in your leg, and looked down … had something stung you? 

You felt dizzy as you braced yourself against a large tree trunk, you couldn’t feel your hands … you couldn’t feel anything?

Your eyes dropped slowly as your body slumped down towards the ground and darkness finally took over

–

“I say, we take them out next.”

“We can’t just do that … they could prove useful … I mean have you seen them with a sword?”

You awoke with a start, heart racing as you looked around … where was Finnick? You moved through the moss and spotted them all around a fire.

“They are useless to everything … the rebellion. Kill them and we get ourselves out of here. They are collateral damage.””

You felt your heart stop …that was Finnick’s voice … and he had to be talking about you, there was no one else you could think of.

“Y/N!”

“That’s smart.”

Peeta? What was going on?

“Good then when they fall asleep tonight that’s when we strike, they won’t know what hit them.”

Finnick’s smirk sent chills down your spine, how could he be doing this? How could he even think about betraying you … didn’t he love you?

“Y/N!”

–

Your eyes fluttered open and you let out a loud scream, throwing yourself away from the blonde man in front of you. Your body was hot, everything around you felt like fire and despite what people thought … you weren’t going down without a fight. Not against anyone, even Finnick. 

“Y/N?! What’s going on? We searched for you all night …we lost Mags … there was fog …” Finnick rambled, his eyes wild and bewildered at the sight of you. He looked like had been crying. 

You knew he was trying to distract you … he had to be. There was no other explanation after what you had seen. He was trying to manipulate you with the use of Mags and the pathetic way he stood. 

“I don’t know who you are anymore, Finnick Odair.” You spat, holding out your sword, stretching it forward as far as you could. “But I heard what you were talking about all night, and I am not going down without a fight, you think I’m going to sit here and talk about bullshit then you’re so wrong.” Your hands were shaking, your whole body trembled in fear.

Your head hurt, and your body felt light … something had happened in the forest and you weren’t sure what did … but there was no way you were losing your life to someone you thought you loved, and who you thought loved you.

“Y/N? What the hell is going on? What happened in those woods?” Finnick questioned, a look of concern filling his face.

“Like I’d tell you anything!” You snapped, raising the sword a little higher. “You proved last night that you didn't love or care about me! You just want me dead!” You cried, tears falling from your eyes

“What?! Of course I love you! We came to find you, you had been gone for an hour! I was worried. Finnick cried, his own tears falling down his cheeks. “We only just got to you because last night we were chased by swarming monkeys and almost died due to poisonous fog?! How could you have heard anything we said, you were miles away! We searched high nd low!!” Finnick cried, trying to reach his hands out to you.

“Any closer and I’ll put this sword through your heart.” Your own heart was racing, unsure of what to believe anymore … you felt dazed and confused and disorientated, nothing felt real anymore. 

“Don’t you trust me?” Finnick whispered, heartbreak lacing every word that he spoke.

“I don’t know.” You sobbed.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every inch you moved was agony … you were going to die in here whether it was by Finnick or something else taking you out. You weren’t going to make it to the rebellion.

Loud sobs echoed through the forest as you dropped to your knees, body finally giving out on you.

Finnick was over to you in seconds, not caring if you fought him off with knives or threats of violence. He pulled you to his chest and you trembled against him, sweat lacing your brows.

“It’s okay … It’s okay. I got you.” Finnick whispered, rocking you both. “God Y/N I can’t lose you in here, I can’t. I lost Mags already, you have to fight whatever happens. You have to know that I love you.” He sobbed, holding you as close as possible. 

“I can’t” You thrashed desperately trying to pull away from him, out of fear or something else, you didn’t know. “I can’t!” 

“Please.” Finnick begged, keeping his grip on you.

You stopped fighting in that moment, letting yourself fall against him, your body felt numb and you didn’t think you had it in you to keep going. 

“Y/N?”

The sky seemed bluer in that moment as you looked towards it, it was gorgeous as the sun shone through the trees. Finnick’s face filled your vision and you felt a warmth overtake you … you were safe … you had to be … he didn’t really want to kill you did he?

“I love you.” Finnick said, voice hoarse as his hand traced the edges of your face. “Please stay.”

“I love you.”  You told him.

The jungle was quiet again, too quiet despite the long eventful night and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of cannon fire in the air.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games #writing #moeswriting #poison #possible character death #angst