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anatay004 · 2 days

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ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)

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 — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."

You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.

"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."

He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.

You exhaled sharply.

"Sixty seconds to launch."

You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.

"Always." He answered, a little strained.

And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.

Simple, simple, simple.

You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.

"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."

Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.

Eventually, you dived into the water.

Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water.

"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.

You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.

"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"

"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?

You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.

When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.

The other tribute had died.

"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."

Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."

You nodded.

"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.

Carefully.

"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.

"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.

And you blinked in surprise.

"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.

"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."

The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.

"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."

You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."

You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.

"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."

You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.

With Finnick right behind you.

Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.

You, yourself, didn't trust her either.

"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."

"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.

"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."

"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.

"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.

"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.

You counted three.

"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.

"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."

"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.

"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"

You, on the other hand, were not.

"Haymitch isn't here."

You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.

You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.

You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?

You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.

What about him?

"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."

"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."

"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."

Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."

"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."

Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."

You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.

"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.

"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"

At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.

Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.

"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.

"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."

Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.

You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.

One that made you look away — for some reason.

"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.

"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.

"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.

"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"

"You saved him twice."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "

" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.

"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.

"It's — just an observation." He simply said.

But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.

"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."

Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."

Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.

"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.

"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.

"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.

Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.

"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.

"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.

Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."

"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."

Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."

Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.

And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:

Remember why you're here for.

— S.

Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.

To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.

But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.

He didn’t approve of them.

How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.

With tridents, especially made for you.

So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.

You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.

One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.

But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?

You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.

No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.

And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.

Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.

“Run!” She yelled in pain.

Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”

Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.

“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.

Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.

“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.

For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.

After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.

After a few minutes, it eventually went away.

“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”

Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.

“I’ll do it.”

“I already got her.”

“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.

Giving out a warning.

The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.

“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”

After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”

Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”

You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.

And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.

Author’s Note

I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!

With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!

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

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thedelicatearcher · 2 days

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rip finnick odair you would've loved minions

#finnick odair #thg #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader

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posionhaze · 2 days

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

dollhouse

❥ summary: having to work with an old flame doesn’t exactly go to plan

pairing: finnick odair x fem! victor reader

warnings: brief mentions of prostitution | dark themes | slight toxic-obsessive behavior | some fluff!!

genre: I don’t even know

❥ words: 2k

please read at the end of the fic for more information 🫶

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It hadn’t always been so tense between you and Finnick.

You were friends before his games- and before yours. You would have been the youngest victor, just a year younger than him- but of course he got to it first.

After he came back he was different, you expected that- but he had put up a front.

He had never told you what actually happened. What happened with Snow. You found out later- you witnessed it.

With that being said, you were reaped. Mags and Finnick himself mentored you.

Finnick never told you but he wished that you would’ve died in that arena. He knew your fate would be the same as his. Even at the age of 15 during your games, he knew.

He knew how sick Snow was.

You had made it out, purely based on hiding and stealth. You did it.

It took days, 28 to be exact.

They both thought you would’ve died off either by starvation or hypothermia.

You didn’t- you almost did.

You could recall the snow surrounding you, really almost choking you.

The arena was an iceland- cold and white, nothing to it.

You remember after your victory tour Snow wanted to meet with you.

You wished you had died in that arena.

Finnick remembers when you came back to the victors village- you hadn’t spoken to him or even looked at him.

That day you were never the same- like someone took your soul, and in a sense- Snow did. He did much more than that.

Three years passed, you and Finnick had brief interactions when needed.

He was the Capitols Darling and you the Capitols Doll.

Your eyes widened- why was Finnick here?

You were at a Capitol clients party as his side piece for the night- rather his doll. He was actually a regular, he wasn’t that bad considering the extent of the situation.

You didn’t understand why Finnick was there, he could only have been invited by your client…

“Oh! And I’m sure you know Y/n!” Your client says with a wide smile, arm wrapped around your waist.

You were wearing an extremely uncomfortable dress, not that it was bulky or unnecessary- no it was quite the opposite.

Thin and revealing, a baby pink mixed with seafoam green, clients request.

Finnick had a lady at his side, wearing an equally revealing and stupid outfit.

“Of course..she’s a doll..” Finnick replies with his charming grin- you knew it was simply an act. He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to it.

You saw the flash of realization in his eyes- you both had the same fate, the one he tried to hide you from.

You give him a sweet smile, letting out a giggle at his words, “You flatter me Finnick!”. Those words never felt more sour coming out of your mouth.

After that night you both grew close again.

You were often in his arms at night, both wanting a sense of normalcy, just for a few hours.

And for a bit it did feel normal, and at some point it felt real.

It was real, you both loved each other. You couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened but you guys ended up in something more than a friendship but never said it out loud.

Now of course you couldn’t tell anyone- not even Mags.

But somehow Snow found out, you weren’t sure how but he did.

Two years of peace disturbed.

Now you figured Snow had only talked to you- only threatened you.

He would’ve killed Finnick if you didn’t comply.

You begged him not to hurt Finnick. For Finnick you sacrificed what was left of you.

When you had gotten back to victor's village, you had ended it with Finnick. That day you broke his heart. Yours was already broken by Snow- much of you was.

You and Finnick stopped talking. Well you did, he didn’t stop.

He was insufferable, petty, pathetic but most of all someone you still loved.

That’s what you hated. That you couldn’t move on.

So it was a year of no contact for you, not playing into whatever game he was playing.

Not until the 73rd hunger games. Yourself 21, Finnick 22.

You both were chosen to mentor district 4. You didn’t know why- well you had a guess.

You and Finnick had two great tributes, a boy named Bay and a girl named Alana.

Bay was shy, a soft spoken teenager who just wanted to go home- while Alana knew what she was up against, she was more insightful- observant.

Alana and Bay knew each other, not very well but close enough to not hate each other.

“Y’know..you can’t spend all this time ignoring me, doll” Finnick says, looking at you from across the table.

It was the second day at the penthouse, you hadn’t spoken to Finnick since the reaping or during the train ride, you didn’t bother.

“Yes I can” You state simply, briefly glancing up at his beautiful sea green eyes. But you quickly avert your eyes, suddenly taking an interest in the glass of scotch you had been “nursing”.

“Really now?” He says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “And do you think that’s how an actual conversation works?” His voice is still playful, but he can’t help his curiosity.

Why were you ignoring his presence, why was it so easy for you to do after everything?

You wish you could tell him, let him in again, but you couldn’t. It would have pushed you over the edge, the one you were so close to falling off of.

It was painful having to keep up your capitol act, but you had to. Over and over again, night after night, party after party.

It was that- or have Finnick killed.

“Yeah- I do” You say with a tight lipped smile, focusing on the ice slowly melting in the liquor you barely touched.

“Y/n, you can at least attempt to hide the disdain, the fake smile, and the eyes that are screaming to run straight for the hills.”

Finnick can’t help but notice how you seem to act as if you never loved him, never cared. In that moment his face softens, a rare sight.

“Oh and, let’s not forget the drinks you hardly drink!” He teases a bit, leaning back in his seat. There was the Finnick you knew- the one who would pick and prod until nothing was left.

“You are such a pain” You say with a roll of your eyes, fighting back the urge to punch him in the face- really you would never do that, but it would feel nice to, at least in this moment.

“Yeah well it’s my speciality!” He smiles, leaning over the table as he takes the glass out of your hand- he finishes what is left in one gulp, putting the glass down before leaning back in the chair.

He’s still looking at you, clearly amused by how you act- you can’t help but wonder if it all is an act.

“Will you stop staring?” You grumble out, irritation clear on your face and tone.

“Only when you look at me.” He replies, leaning on his elbows, propping his chin up on fist.

He’s staring you down, he wants that reaction. It’ll tell him everything he needs to know.

And eventually you look at him, your eyes look dull and tired. Your mouth is a straight line.

You notice how his smile has disappeared- he studies you closely, like you did all those years ago- wondering what’s actually behind your eyes.

For the first time in a while you take in his features, his golden-bronze hair, and those sea green eyes.

Oh how you love those eyes.

You let out an awkward cough, breaking eye contact after a moment, “Bay and Alana seem good..I think Alana has a good chance of making it out..” You say, trying to distract Finnick.

“You think so?” Finnick says almost in a hum of approval, a smirk etched on his face.

Your distraction was futile, Finnick is stubborn- he’d get the truth out of you tonight.

He nods, “Bay, I can tell he’s a sweetie, a quiet one- but I think he’ll surprise us. Alanna though! Oh I’m putting my money on her- we’ll see her in that arena.” Finnick takes his eyes off of you for a moment, “You should help them with the training more, doll.”

“Stop Finnick- stop whatever it is you’re doing” You say, the tone of his voice- it disgusted you.

That look, his tone, why does he keep using it on you?

“Aw am I hurting your feelings? I’m so very sorry, doll.” There’s that damn smirk again, how did he not see the look on your face.

It was as if he was teasing you, enjoying the slight torture he was bringing on.

“I just want you to tell me those secrets you’ve been hiding..”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, “Drop it Finnick”

“No.” He replies, his voice sharp and stern- he wasn’t going to let you brush him off.

He reaches for your hand, your skin so soft under his fingers, your hand so perfect under his.

He brings it up to his mouth, and kisses one of your knuckles, “Just talk to me…please…”

But you could still feel his smirk.

You’re quick to pull your hand from his grasp, a sick feeling forming in your stomach.

“I’m going to sleep” You mutter out, leaving your seat and the table, going to your room in the penthouse.

“Damn it..” He mumbles, leaning back into his chair.

He couldn’t leave it alone, he just couldn’t.

He wouldn’t let himself rest either, getting up and walking towards your room- he knew you wouldn’t appreciate it.

He stands outside your door for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts.

Before eventually opening the door and inviting himself in.

“Go away Finnick..” You mutter out, not even having to turn and look to see who it is.

“No.” He says in a stern voice, but there’s hesitation in it.

“I’m not leaving until we talk.” His voice softens as he takes a step forward, “Doll, don’t do this…”

“Finnick..” You say, pausing momentarily. Maybe it was time to let him in again?

“I can’t- I can’t do this right now..” You finish.

“Do what, Y/n?” He steps forward again, closing the distance between you and him- his hands rest on the sides of your hips, chest against your back.

You can feel his breath against your neck, your muscles tense up but he just waits for your reply.

“Just talk to me, please. Let me in, doll.”

“Snow had found out about us..” You say blankly, “He talked to me, threatened your life..he didn’t want us together..because we were so- so useful to him..”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I thought it would be better to just end it” You add on.

Your words didn’t come to a surprise, he knew Snow would find out eventually.

He’s silent for a moment, before his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close against him- he doesn’t care how tired you are.

You could feel the anger and rage building inside of him, towards Snow.

Finnick moves you in his arms, kissing your forehead before looking right in your eyes, “I still don’t understand why you never just talked to me about it…”

“I was scared he’d do something to you Finn..” You mutter out softly.

“I’m not that fragile, doll.” His lips brush against your temple, he can tell that you’re tired.

“I would’ve been fine, you know that right…”

You honestly didn’t know what to say, what could you?

“I’m sorry Finnick- I’m tired..I- I need sleep..” You say, pulling away from him. You wouldn’t let yourself go back, why wouldn’t you?

“This isn’t a good time....” You add on, averting your eyes again from him.

His grip tightens on your hips slightly- he can tell you’re pulling away from him yet again- and it’s driving him mad.

You’re refusing to let him in completely, refusing to let him love you.

“And I’m telling you- we’ll talk about this now.” He’s persistent, unwilling to be denied.

“Finnick..we’ll talk after the games, after this is done” You say, voice soft yet stern.

Your eyes meet his, both of you don’t say anything for a moment.

“Fine”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

❥ notes: hi!! so this is my first fic on this blog- I want to say I’ve written fan fiction before, so I’m not new- but I’m not the greatest either! I’m new to the hg fandom, so bear with me if my work isn’t accurate or the best! I will be making a masterlist of who I will write for soon!!

❥ uploads certainly won’t be frequent or consistent- I’m sorry to say. I do have an old blog, which I won’t be mentioning. that blog negatively impacted my mental health so I wanted a fresh start with a new fandom and blog :))

❥ once again- I am new so sorry if this isn’t accurate or not the best!! I’d love for any comments or suggestions! I was scared to post this, mostly because of backlash but I hope this was good!! ☺️

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etherealily · 2 days

Text

𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 // 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗿.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader, brother's best friend (ahhh!), you don't get it, i love this man

Warning: Cuss words .

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Finnick makes quite an impression.

"Hey, what's up, man, if you could just pack up- oh."

You don't even have to turn to know just who in the hell was standing in front of the window of your family's bakery. And this is the one day you decide not to care about how frosting-splattered your apron is, how flour-smeared your hands are. So your brother wasn't lying. He really was all buddy-buddy with Finnick fucking Odair. And this was the one Thursday you decide to actually fill in for him.

"Uh, be right out, sir."

Sir? Sir? Did you really just call him Sir? Well, I mean, yeah, he's a customer, but still... sir? That's too fake. He's going to wig out, he's going to-

"Of course. Take your time. I'm in no rush."

-Be uncharacteristically patient. Hm. Weird. Odd.

Quickly patting off the flour on your hands and watching the flakes fall onto the counter, you wipe your palms roughly on your apron, turning around.

His eyes are fucking ethereal. It's everything you can do to not immediately think of how you would go about replicating the sea-green of them into a frosting colour, or something. However, you decide, it'd be very hard, seeing as there were a kaleidoscope of other hues in there, a tinge of gold, here and there, like flecks of stardust, for one.

The muscles at the front of his arms - across his chest, as he stands - clench, as though he's tightening them. And then you realise : he's waiting.

"So sorry for the wait. How can I help you?"

"Who are you?"

What ?

"Excuse me?"

"Not interrogating you.", he informs you, raising a hand to cut you short. The fucking audacity . "Never seen you before."

"Well, you're seeing me now."

"How do I know you're not just someone stealing from the store?", he inquires, in mock concern. His eyebrows raise just slightly, playfully, even, as he trains his eyes on yours.

Does he also think about how he can replicate the colours in other people's eyes, or is he normal?

"Uh, I've got a key , for one.", you retort, jiggling the keys that you've shoved deep into your apron's pocket.

He shrugs, interlocking his fingers tightly as he cracks his knuckles, tilting his head. "Could be stolen."

"I'm the owner's daughter, Y/N ?"

"Insufficient proof of that.", he shoots back, teeth grazing ever so slightly on his bottom lip as he battles a smirk. "C'mon, do better than that. I'm this close to calling the Peacekeepers, y'know?"

"I can bake a cake?", you suggest, unsure why you're even going along with this.

Oh right, because he's Finnick Odair.

"So can I.", he replies, now resting his elbow down on the windowsill of that godforsaken window your family sold their goods from. You'd always thought it was cute, but now, with the lack of a counter between the two of you, like the normal bakeries, you were resenting the idea. "You're not really selling your identity, you know?"

"I'm literally baking a cake right now.", you exclaim, pointing at your clothes and the oven in which a hopefully delicious cake was rising. "What kind of pathetic thief would help the store they're stealing from?"

"You could be trying to blend in."

"Okay, look, I don't care what you think, Sir. I'm the owner of this place, so you either get your goods or go."

"Good.", he chuckles, softly, although his tone turns slightly, seamlessly more serious. "That's good. That's the response you give, you got that?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What?"

"If someone ever makes you doubt who you are, if someone ever...", he swallows, licking his lips for a moment, looking away before continuing, "... ever forces an identity on you. I don't care what you think, I know who I am . That's what you say."

"You came all the way here, did all that, just to... teach me a life lesson?"

"You don't like it? Come on, that was a cool segue, you gotta admit.", he asks, clearly shoving whatever else he was feeling into the back burner as he snickers.

"Threatening to call the Peacekeepers on me? Oh, yeah, that's very cool ."

"Hey, I managed to get your name, didn't I? Doubt you'd have let me get that far any other way."

Not true. You'd have given him your name. Hell, you'd have given up your last name for him, had he asked normally.

"And what do you need my name for?"

"I don't know.", he shrugs, palpably pushing any dirty responses he might've had away. "Maybe I just want to know?"

"You must have a reason."

"You know what, yeah, usually, I have a reason for everything.", he replies, giving you the charming smile you've seen on television almost a thousand times. "But this time, I don't."

That was so infuriatingly expected. Of course Finnick Odair couldn't have just fucking asked for your name like a normal person.

"Do you at least have a reason as to why you're at my store?"

"Your family's store, sweetie, and yeah, I do.", he says, pointing at a tray of half-a-dozen shimmery blue cupcakes with the number '4' frosted boastfully onto them. "Pack those up for me, will you? My order."

"Insufficient proof of that.", you reply, crossing your arms and mirroring his position from when he'd said those words. "Unless you've got a receipt, which we don't give to urgent orders so there's no chance you could have one , I don't see how you're walking away from here with them."

He laughs, heartily, nodding as though impressed. "Funny. Look, let's not make this more complicated than it should be, yeah? You're a pissed off, whiny little girl who can't take a joke, and I'm Finnick Odair. Just give me the cupcakes."

You scoff, audibly scoff at that. The nerve of him. "I'm not a little girl."

"Your brother tells me you cry when you see butterflies? Like... full-on bawl?"

You'd fucking murder your brother the next time you saw him, that was for sure.

"They're ethereal, and very rare."

"They're insects.", he reasons, shaking his head as he rests his head on his palm, tilting his head and gazing at you condescendingly, like you really were a child.

"Shut up."

He snorts, softly. "Give me the damn cupcakes, sweetie."

"Or what, you'll seduce me into giving them to you?"

His face falls, for a moment, his grin faltering. Then, with a sigh that was an infuriating mix of amused, disappointed and enigmatic, he nods. "That's what I'm known for, right? I could do it, you know? Really effectively, too."

"That wouldn't work on me."

"Give me the damn cupcakes, Y/N."

"How do I know you've paid for them?"

"You'll have to take my word for it. It's called trust, ever heard of it?"

"It's called not being a pompous asshole, ever heard of it?"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you turn your back to him, bringing the tray over to the window sill. "Brought your own bag?"

He nods, a slightly triumphant smile - that you choose to ignore, thank you very much - on his face as he hands it to you, then nodding to the bag. "It's all the rage in the Capitol, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I see the Capitol freaks with it all the time on TV.", you mutter, gently bringing out each cupcake and placing them in each indent in the box you'd brought out. "Any embellishments you want before I put them in the bag?"

"Like a bow or something?"

"Yeah, like a bow, a card, some extra sprinkles taped to the box.", you shrug, feigning nonchalance. The urge to draw him was getting way too strong, and it was the most peculiar feeling ever - one you'd never felt before. Capturing him, in a way the cameras he was always swarmed by never could, that would be perfect.

"Yeah, card would be nice."

"What would you like on it?", you ask, sliding a card over from the cardboard box overflowing with them, as you click open a pen.

He raises a brow. "Do you have good handwriting?"

You tsk, shoving the pen in his face. "Here, you do it, then."

He giggles, mischief swirling in his eyes as he takes the pen from you. "Probably best." He clears his throat, dramatically, giving you a matter-of-fact look before he begins writing. "Dear President Snow, wishing you a Happy Reaping Day, with a delicacy from District Four- uh, what do you call these, sweetie?"

"Cupcakes?"

"Something cooler." He narrows his eyes at you, tapping the pen on the counter.

"Cupcakes from the Bakery Around The Corner? Seriously, this is District Four, we're not the Capitol - we don't have fancy icing and a quirky little name for each of our orders."

"Yeah, but he does this thing where each year, you have to bring a new delicacy from your District.", he mutters, a slight scoff present in his voice. "Reaping Day special. So I need a cool name."

Interesting. That almost sounded like resentment, from the Golden Boy to the President.

"I'm flattered you consider my cupcakes delicacies."

"Okay, look, your cupcakes are good, delicious, even, but they're not delicacies.", he reminds, keeping the stream of insults you were throwing at each other going. "I just need to give him something other than seafood this year, apparently."

"Well, that's stupid. We're the fishing district."

"Like he gives a flying fuck. What Coriolanus Snow wants, Coriolanus Snow gets."

You snort, covering your mouth. "That's his name?"

"What, did you think it was President ?", he asks, still not looking up from the card as he spins the pen around between his fingers - both calloused and delicate, preserved and wild.

"No, I thought it'd be something more normal."

He tsks. "Seriously, come up with a name for these things."

"They're for you , so call them Odairs, or something, I don't know. Should stroke your ego, too, so it's a win-win."

"These are supposed to be delicacies. Like, a form of pride among our people. I can't name them after me, no matter how awesome that would be.", he adds, with a slight grin.

"Whores from District Four.", you chuckle, shaking your head. "Call them that."

"Why, 'cause I'm the 'Whore from Four' ?", he asks, smirking. "That's a no-no word, you know?"

"Yeah, well, my patience is thinning with you, Odair."

He snickers, softly, chewing the inside of his cheek, still staring at the card. "You know what, fuck it. Whores it is."

"Really? Just go with no card."

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, a card is expected.", he sighs, spinning the pen around. "I should just call them whores. But, you know, spelt with an 'h'. What's he gonna do, ask around the District 4 marketplace for 'hores'?"

You laugh. "Hey, if that works...", you salute him, nodding. He writes with soft, almost enchanting strokes, and then signs his name.

"Thanks, Y/N.", he adds, after you finish taping the note precisely to the centre of the box's lid, before gently lowering it into his Capitol bag. "If this works, I'm paying you extra."

"If President Snow comes around asking for my District-famous 'hores', I'll pay you extra."

══════════════════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════════════════

The muffled rush of the waterfall, and the feathery tufts of grass you were laying on almost help you enjoy life , for once, and help you forget that Reaping Day is tomorrow. Almost.

"You know you're not supposed to be out here, right, sugar?"

And then suddenly, the 4 o'clock sun isn't the thing that's blinding your senses.

It's him, instead.

Towering over you, almost gleaming hair threatening to spill over and disrupt the calm in the pool of his eyes, he tilts his head mockingly.

"I know."

He gapes in mock scandal. "Aren't you the little rebel?", he muses, raising a brow in amusement before offering you his hand.

You grab it, and he hauls you up with admirable ease. "Your cupcakes were a hit, sweetie. Absolute hit.", he informs, with the twinkly grin that comes with being Finnick Odair.

His mildly calloused hand still grips yours tightly.

"I see. You're welcome."

He shrugs, nodding. "Yeah, I suppose you deserve the thanks."

The silence sweeps past you, the only sounds embossed in both of your hushed breaths, in the gentle songs of birds, the faint roar of the waterfall, and suddenly, his voice, smooth as a wave embracing the shore.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"Trust me."

When Finnick Odair asks you to trust him, you do. Rule number one of the rule book of... well, life.

"If you take me to some Capitol party-"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I promise, the last place I'm ever taking you is the Capitol. In fact, it can be said I'm doing the exact opposite."

You raise a brow. "What, you're taking me in the opposite direction? As far away from the Capitol as possible?"

His eyes dart around, above, behind and beside you, before they finally land on yours, and he nods, slowly, hesitantly. "Yeah, exactly.", he muses, his words drawn out as if he was unsure of them, too.

Bad sign.

"You're taking me out the borders?", you hiss, lowering your voice and glaring sharply at him. "That's illegal, Golden Boy."

"Don't call me that. Not here, in District 4."

You scoff. The audacity running through his veins was insufferable. "I'll call you whatever I damn want to. You trying to get me killed or turned into an Avox?"

"I'm trying to show you something!", he snaps, using his tense grasp on your hand to draw you closer, so that your foreheads were borderline touching. See, this was bad, this was bad, this was-

"Just let me!", he continues, his voice almost pleading. "You think I don't know it's Reaping Day tomorrow? That you could get picked to go die in the Games?"

"No, you're just the one helping us go die."

"You shut up.", he hisses, a finger in your face. "Don't say things you know nothing about. I'm a mentor."

"Did you even try with the tributes from last year? Or the year before that? Because I heard that-"

"What you heard is fucking-", he cuts himself short, taking a deep breath. "Please. Just follow me. For the love of God.", he orders, gently tugging you along.

Not like you even wanted to pull away - this was Finnick Odair.

"What is it you love most about District 4?"

"What?"

"District 4. What is it you love most about it?"

"It's home.", you shrug. "What else is there?"

"Yeah, but I mean, with time, any place is home. Have you never wanted to leave, to explore?"

It's times like these you realize your parents' bakery isn't that important- you'd sell the whole thing to figure out what was going on in that angelic head of his. His words lilting through your senses like sea-breeze.

"I'm exploring as much as I can right now."

He pauses for a moment, turning around. Dimples. "I'm glad I can be your guide, then."

Shut the fuck up, freak of nature. Stop with your beautiful words.

You almost say that. You don't, though.

"Okay, can you jump for me?"

"Jump?", you ask, looking over his shoulder at the huge gap between the part of the rock you were on, and the one you were supposed to go to. "No way."

"Come on, you can do it.", he says, leaping over the humongous gap as if he were playing hopscotch. "I'll catch you."

That's not the part you're worried about. The part you're worried about is you chickening out in front of the Finnick Odair. The interviews he would go through.

'Oh, yes, Hunger Games or not, tragic deaths have always been part of my everyday. Just the other week, a girl I knew slipped near a waterfall and plummeted to her death. Tragic. But I got over it because I'm Finnick Odair. I'm hot. And rich. And did I mention, hot?'

The entire nation wouldn't mourn you. It'd mourn the fact that poor Darling Finnick Odair had to watch you die.

"I don't know about this, Odair."

"Trust me."

That's the second time this man had asked you to trust him tonight. Rule of life.

"I swear, it'll be worth it. Take a leap of faith. Literally."

You grimace, pursing your lips. Your eyes move-

"Don't!", he yells, suddenly, waving his hand from across the abyss so your eyes land on it. "DON'T look down. Just look at me. Leap to me."

Reach for his eyes. Those pools of moss green and cerulean blue that make you want to embrace and destroy the planet for being able to create something so perfect.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to convince yourself he'll catch you. It's an excuse to look at his muscles, yeah, but still, he's strong enough. He'll catch you.

I won't die in front of Finnick Odair.

And you leap.

Instantly, your feet slip on the wet rock on the other side, and you grip onto Finnick's shoulders as he wraps his arms around you.

"Toldja."

"Shut up. I almost died."

"So dramatic.", he chuckles, gently letting go of you as he leads you further behind the waterfall, the tufts of grass on which you lay now faintly visible through the gushing water between you and them.

"There's a tiny cave kind of thing here. Look."

You squint, kneeling down in front of the entrance.

"Don't be shy. Come in."

You crouch down, taking his hand as he leads you further into the cave, walking gingerly until you see a tiny pool, illuminated by a golden ray of sunlight spilling through from a crack in the stone above.

Good god.

And around it, as though crafted for you, placed for your perusal, were hordes of glass-blue butterflies, fragile, delicate, and oh-so-ethereal, twirling around each other, bathed in all directions by the beam of light, which flowed through their transparent wings.

Finnick Odair, marry me.

"So?", he asks, breath gently brushing your ear. "What do you think?" The eagerness in his eyes was obvious, as though he were a child showing you the scribbles he'd just made.

"I..."

"I thought, y'know, I mean, I get excited about the ocean, so there's no reason for you not to get excited about butterflies."

"How did you find this place?", you ask, breathless.

"That's a secret."

Your eyes are transfixed onto the flapping of wings, the distribution of gold, the surreality of it all. It's almost godly. It's so breathtaking, you genuinely need to sit down. He sits with you.

"Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"That's a secret."

He smiles, softly, though the sadness in his expression is palpable and inevitable. It irks you. The way he is supposed to be, according to you, is spinning around the shoreline, laughing as he dances with the waves, sand on his hands and knees, a tan kissing his skin. That's how he must remain, and that is how you will draw him, if you ever get to.

After a tiny while, though, he leans back, against the rock behind him, eyes still trained on your awe as you watch the butterflies glide around blissfully, before looking out, at the curtain of water flowing and concealing the entrance of this little slice of paradise he'd found for you.

"You know, you could just stay here till tomorrow. You don't even have to go to Reaping Day."

"Oh, yeah, because that's smart. I'll be arrested."

"Then just don't go back."

"Leave my family to get punished?"

"Please tell me you didn't need tesserae."

"Well, before you, barely anyone from our District won, and if they did, they most definitely didn't share."

He groans, running his hands over his face. "So it's not even a fair chance."

You shake your head. "It's fine, though." Has been for five years.

He scoffs, borderline laughing at you, derisively. "Please elaborate."

"If you managed to find the one tiny place on earth where butterflies still thrive, and it happened to be here, by the waterfall I spent my whole life admiring, then, there's a chance I won't be reaped."

"You're extraordinary. Genuinely. Phenomenal. Splendid. Fabulous. Amazing." Was that awe in his voice? Awe at... you? What you just said?

"Are you buttering me up because I might be picked to die tomorrow?"

"I'm buttering you up because you're incredible."

Drawing him isn't enough.

Sonnets, prose, stories, love songs, ballads.

Those would be enough.

"If I get reaped, you better mentor me good."

"If you get reaped, you'll win. I'll get you sponsors, I'll train you so that you'll be an absolute force to reckon with."

The promises are beautiful and fragile and absolutely ludicrous. But that would be the name of his biography.

"If I survive, we're coming here every day."

It's like you've already resigned yourself to the fact that you were going to get chosen.

"You're a Career. You'll be fine."

"Who are you trying to convince?"

Silence suddenly enters the cave.

"We should go."

Both of you say it, both of you agree, and both of you get up.

"Thank you, Finnick."

His name tastes oddly sweet coming out of your mouth. However, the next moment shows that his lips taste even sweeter.

His fucking dimples.

"C'mon. I think this time, leaping will be easier."

What he means by that, you don't know.

Not like you want to, not immediately. Spending your whole life trying to figure him out seemed like a solid career plan.

You leap again.

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flowersforjude · 1 day

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𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢. 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

﹙next chapter ➵ masterlist﹚┈﹙read on ao3 ➵ read on wattpad﹚

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, slight self-injury, mentions of death, etc.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.8 k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've been working on this for little over a year now. I've posted all current chapters on Wattpad and AO3. I thought I might as well post it here too. This chapter was really just for scene setting and character introduction. The juicer stuff is in upcoming chapters. Hope you enjoy!!

The crunching of gravel beneath hundreds of feet echoed through district four in a sorrowful song. Each pair of feet belonged to a different person with their own story. Each pair was distinct from the one beside them, in front of them, or behind them. But today they were all moving in the same direction, for the same reason. Today they all had one thing in common. They were all reluctantly marching towards the Justice Building because today was the reaping for the annual Hunger Games. They were hesitant, and yet everyone walked steadily on their path without complaint, as if resigned to their fate.

I walked with my mother Camilla, my father Lyle, and my little sister Shae. We are silent as we make our way to the growing crowd of people in front of the Justice Building. Today was not the day for idle conversation. Today was the day for fear or for hope. Fear that your name would be called. Hope that it wouldn't, or that some other unlucky child would be forced to go to their deaths.

This morning, as I got ready, I found myself sitting in the bath longer than necessary. I watched with blank eyes as I dipped my hand down into the cooling water and lifted it back out. Droplets of water raced down the back of my hand until they faded out like one of the many lives taken by the games every year.

The longer I sat in the cold tub of water, the harder it became to keep my mind focused on the small things. Like how shivers ran races down my spine or how my damp hair rested limply on my shoulders. No matter how hard I tried, my thoughts wouldn't stay simple for long. Soon they morphed into debilitating notions of blood and death. My mind ran rampant with scenes of tributes dying in brutal and messy ways.

Now as my feet crunched gravel under my soles, my brain created new ideas of torment. Shae turned twelve this year, and that meant it was her first Reaping Day where her name was in the drawing. It was only once, I kept telling myself. She wouldn't be picked. But the odds never favored ones in our position.

"This is where we go our separate ways." My mother said when we reached the point where we had to split up. I could see unshed tears making her brown eyes glossy as she pulled me and Shae into a hug. She kissed both our cheeks before stepping aside for our father.

"Be brave, girls." He told us and then bent down to hug Shae. When he straightened up, he pulled me in and squeezed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before he stepped away completely.

"After the reaping, we met back here, and we'll go home." My mom said firmly, as if cementing the idea that both of her daughters would be returning to her. She wiped away a few tears that managed to sneak their way down her cheeks. "We love you both."

"We love you too," I replied.

My parents went off to the area where the adults watched. Watched as two kids were chosen to fight to the death. Shae and I walked on together, our breaths shallow with fear and anticipation. As we approached the spot where our paths diverged, I turned to say goodbye. Her eyes flickered over to me as if to plead for escape. She switched her gaze to her line, staring at it like a slithering viper ready to strike if she dared take even one step closer.

"Shae?" I dropped down to her height.

She started shaking her head, and her pink lips began to wobble. "I can't, Lyssa. I'm scared."

I gave her a sympathetic look and smoothed down her hair with my hands. "I know you're scared, but your name is only in there once. The odds of you being chosen are slim."

She inhaled deeply, her chestnut eyes still wide and fearful. I pulled her close and breathed into her hair the words of reassurance that she needed. I cupped her face in my hands, gave her a gentle nod of encouragement, and watched as she tentatively stepped away from me and towards the other children. It took everything in me not to grab the back off her dress and run.

I took my place in line with the other seventeen-year-olds and watched as the people in front of me got their fingers pricked by an intimidating looking woman.

As the seconds ticked by like the timer on a bomb, it grew harder to breathe. The nerves I chained down all this morning fighting their way up. An anchor pressed down on my chest, weighing my whole form down as it rested in the sand of the sea. I couldn't look scared. I knew it made no difference whether or not my fear was visible. If my name was called, then that was that. But I didn't want anyone to view me as weak. Even if that's what I was in reality.

My feet shuffled forward as the line flowed. The girl in front of me gasped loudly as her blood was drawn. In seconds, she was moving out of the line, and it was my turn.

"Next!" The woman called. "Name?"

"Lyssa Monroe."

She looked down the list till she landed on my name. She silently held out her hand, and I held my pointer finger out to her. She pricked it, but I barely registered the small pain; I was too focused on staying calm. She smeared my blood on multiple sheets of paper; in a way, she just sighed my possible death certificate. Those slips of paper will be sent to the big glass bowl, whose only purpose was to hand out death sentences. And I stood a chance of being called. I wonder if that bothers her. That by doing this job, she's sending kids to their deaths. I wonder how she feels or if she feels anything at all. Maybe she didn't; maybe you have to be void of emotion to do this job.

When she called for the next person, I stepped out of the way and went to stand with my age group. I pressed my still bleeding finger into the fabric of my dress. It was the nicest clothing item I owned, and I hated it. I wore it on reaping day and reaping day only. The atrocious piece of material served as a reminder of the worst days of my life. Days filled with fear and dread. The only thing I felt when I looked at it was anguish.

I didn't know any of the girls I was standing with, so I searched the crowd for Shae. I found her standing between two girls her age, but she was so small compared to them.

I caught her eyes and sent her a smile and a wink. I tried to look carefree for her even if my stomach was twisting in rough knots. Something was off; I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, swirling around like unruly waves in a storm. No matter how much I attempted to convince myself otherwise, today was not going to have a good outcome. But Shae needed me to reassure her so she wouldn't break down. I knew she was scared. This was her first year in the drawing; her name was only in once, but it was that one chance that kept her up all last night.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The sharp pain of them digging into my skin was enough to ground me for now.

Sabine Glass, our district escort, strutted out from the Justice Building, and we all focused our attention on her. She had the usual bold and careless air about her as clicked her way to center stage. With each step, her dress glistened in the sun, its green sequins catching the light like tiny mirrors. Around her neck hung a necklace of bronzy-white seashells that matched her earrings, bracelets. The same shells were intricately woven into her updo. Her shoes were the same color as her dress and had heels so long that I wondered how on earth she even managed to walk on stage without falling.

She cleared her throat into the microphone, getting the attention of the crowd. "Welcome! People of District four, to the reaping of the 70th Hunger Games! I know we're all very excited to see who our tributes will be this year, but before that, we have a presentation from the esteemed President Snow!"

The crowd clapped with a small fraction of Sabine's enthusiasm. four was a career district, but only half the population fell into that category. So some of the citizens had pride for this whole charade, but the hatred and fear of the other half far outweighed that misguided respect for the games.

Two huge black screens were set up on either side of the building, and with Sabine's cue, they started to play the origin video of The Hunger Games. We were made to watch this video every reaping day, year after year. It was to remind us of the horror before the games so we wouldn't want to rebel again. When the video was over, Sabine began clapping, and slowly, the crowd reluctantly joined in.

"That was spectacular!" Sabine cheered into the microphone. "Let's begin, shall we? As per usual, ladies first!"

She walked over to the glass bowl and swirled her hand around in it, meticulously searching for the right slip of paper. The tension of the crowd was palpable. Everyone was still and the quietness was suffocating. My heart raced in my chest, like I had just gotten done for a swim and was laying on the warm sand of the beach, soaking up the sun's rays. Though even after all the time I spent out there, my skin stayed its same pale shade.

Sabine plucked out a slip of paper and pranced back over to the microphone. As she neatly unfolded it, my nails racked deeper into my palm, digging into my skin until I felt a slight trickle of blood flow down my palm. My ears clouded with the sound of adrenaline, and only Sabine's shrill voice brought my senses back to me.

"Lyssa Monroe!"

My heart stopped along with everything else as the blaring silence rang in my ears. Chills ran down my body, and the blood froze in my veins. I didn't move; I couldn't move. The girls around me murmured amongst themselves and stared at my unmoving body with sympathy and selfish relief.

"Lyssa Monroe?" Sabine spoke again, this time as a question.

The girls parted like a great wave, creating an aisle for me to walk through. The first step I took was unintentional, but it was like my body had switched to autopilot. My legs numbly carried me all the way to the stage. I didn't raise my head until I walked up the steps and was in front of the crowd.

As I lifted my eyes, the sun seemed brighter than before, momentarily blinding me. When they adjusted, my eyes met the crowd of my fellow District four members.

I found my parents in the cluster of adults. My mother had her face buried in my father's chest. Even from here, I could see her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. My father's face was set hard, but I knew he was trying to keep his tears reigned in.

I turned my attention to Shae, who had pushed her way to the front of her section. Her tiny hands held the barricade in a death grip. Her cheeks were red and stained with tears.

Sabine shoved the microphone at my face, and only then did I realize she had asked me something.

"What?" I muttered dumbly.

"I asked how old you were, dear."

"I'm seventeen," I mumbled.

Sabine took the microphone back and placed her hand on her heart. "And how lovely you are, my dear."

She turned back to the audience, clapping her hands. "Now for the gentleman." She glided over to the bowl that held the boys' names. She repeated the same swirling hand movements around the glass until she snatched up a slip of paper.

She cleared her throat before reading the name. "Hector May!"

A gasp rang out among the crowd, and even me in my numbed state lifted my eyes in surprise. Hector May was Mayor Walim May's son. Of course, being the child of the mayor didn't exclude you from the reaping, but they were rarely chosen. That's why everyone had started to murmur amongst themselves as Hector slowly made his way up to the stage.

He looked behind him at his father. The mayor tried not to show any emotion at his son being reaped, but I saw how his jaw clenched and his hands began to subtly shake in his lap.

"What an interesting turn of events!" Sabine exclaimed. "How old are you, dearie?"

"Eighteen." Hector answered in a deep monotone voice.

"And you're the mayor's son, correct?"

"Yes."

Sabine laughed almost giddily. "What a wonderful pair we have here." She motioned for us to shake hands. We both moved forward and grasped the other's hand as Sabine addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of presenting to you your District four tributes for the 70th annual Hunger Games!"

━

We were marched in silence down a long hallway, escorted by a couple of stern-faced peacekeepers. Hector and I were taken to separate rooms, mine with harsh fluorescent lights that cast everything in a painful brightness. The stark and sterile air felt suffocating as I helplessly waited for what was next. I shifted nervously on the hardwood chair, tracing small circles onto its smooth surface while my leg anxiously bounced up and down. Even pinching myself couldn't make this nightmare go away. My throat tightened in despair while tears stung my eyes.

A creak of the door handle made me jump, and I scrambled to my feet. My parents and Shae entered the room, their faces blurry with emotion. We raced towards each other, a tangle of limbs that collapsed into a heap on the floor. Someone was sniffling, and it took me a moment to realize it was me.

My father wiped the tears off my face and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Everything will be alright." He stated calmly like there was nothing to worry about.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Dad, how can you say that?"

He sighed. "I know you're scared, sweetie. But you can't let your fear control you. You're going to be fine because you're going to win."

"How? I can't–" I couldn't even finish my sentence. How could my father be so sure, so calm?

"Lyssa." My mother said, clearing the tears from her eyes. "Your father is right. I know you're scared, but you can't think about that right now."

"What do I do?" I asked helplessly.

My father was the one to answer. "Find a weapon that fits you. One that's easy for you to use but effective. Try throwing knives. You were always good with those."

"Okay." I nodded along with him.

"You have to come back, Lyssa." Shae blurted out.

I looked down at her small frame and immediately drew her to me. "I promise I will try my hardest." I said into her hair. My lips connected with the top of her head as her arms tightened around me.

The door opened again, and the peacekeepers came in. "Time's up." One of them said.

We hugged each other one last time before one of the peacekeepers escorted them out. They all called their last farewells as they were moved out of my view.

"Be brave, Lyssa! Remember what I said!"

"Win, so you come back home!"

"We love you, sweetheart!"

There was one peacekeeper left in the room with me. "It's time to board the train, Miss Monroe," he said.

I nodded and hesitantly followed him out into the hallway, where Sabine and Hector stood waiting.

"Now then, you're both very excited, I'm sure, so let's hurry along. The Capitol awaits!" Sabine sang, genuinely excited, with a smile plastered on her face. I tried to tell myself it was just because she was from the Capitol and didn't really know any better. Though, as she led a silent Hector and I away, I couldn't help but feel disgust towards her. She was voluntarily escorting us to our deaths.

My face remained blank as we boarded the train. The odds were never on my side, and they never would be.

Let me know in the comments if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this story! <3

#ˏ*ೃ➵violent delights #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #thg #thg fanfiction #fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #thg series #the hunger games catching fire #the hunger games mockingjay #friends to lovers #mentor x mentee #slow burn

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natti-ice · 1 month

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18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months

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a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

9K notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 4 months

Text

OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk - massive thank you to @motelofmermaids and @lust4lore for their help with reading and writing!!!

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

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