I Simply Cannot Decide What To Write Tomorrow!

i simply cannot decide what to write tomorrow!

pls vote!! also please use my inbox and send requests or hc u wanna see i’ll love u forever!!! kiss kiss

IF YOU BUILT YOURSELF A MYTH !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnicks failure of being able to save you and bring you to district 13 will eat away at him until he is blessed to see your face again.

contains; tooth rotting FLUFF, comfort, reunions, lil kisses but who rlly gaf tbh, slight angst at the beginning bc i can’t help myself. torture mentions but not descriptive. finnick loves reader like a dog :( as always- not proofread.

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he’s picking at his fingers, practically pulling his hair out. in a state of such worry he wishes someone was here to keep him in line. he’s waiting for someone, anyone, to come through these doors and tell him you’re here, you’re okay.

he’s sure that everyone else is fed up with his antics, they can all recall his incessant and undying persistence to see you, so desperate, so distraught.

but instead he has not moved- still desperately trying to settle the ache in his guts and mind when he thinks of you. where are you? have you called out for him? in what world would he not answer back? why hasn’t he stormed the capitol and stolen you back himself?

it is only then when he sees you, does he comprehend your state. you’re in worse shape than johanna- but not quite as bad as what he’s heard of peeta. and for that small, small victory he selfishly finds himself thanking god.

“sweetheart?” he’s scared, nervous to touch you, frightened to disturb you.

you look at him now- studying his face, his eyes. oh, his eyes. you couldn’t find a better color- and you’re sure you’ve looked everywhere to no avail.

you don’t know where you are, how you got here, when finnick had shown up, how long he’d been there, but you knew that by his shoulders not being squared off- his brows being unfurrowed, his jaw unclenched, it was by his body language that you knew you were safe.

to finnick, you looked as if you’d built a book all in your head and had been reading it upside down- like you were back in that arena, and it hurt him inside.

you’d been there twice before- and survived both times, but now you looked like you’d left something in the quarter quell. something that would make it all make sense. you don’t remember what you were doing before the 75th annual games had been announced, and you don’t know what your plans were for after. were they with finnick? did you plan to have a family?

now you weren’t so sure you wanted a family in a world where the capitol had control over each and every decision you’d make, who would do that to a child?

you remember your hands being of no use to you, you couldn’t take your shock collar off, couldn’t cover your ears from the jabberjays, couldn’t pull yourself out of the water, couldn’t fight off the peacekeepers that tormented you- but it didn’t matter now.

with your faint memory you could see finnick- you could see him and his curious eyes wanting to drink in your every thought.your hand reaches for his, and when his fingertips meet your skin you refrain from flinching- you want this, you want him back. you want to soak up his presence as if it were slipping away. you grab for more of him, more and more and more until he wearily hoists himself next to you on the hospital bed.

you breathe him in, your head pressed into his chest. You want to study the lines of his face, the way his hair has somehow grown- making it seem like you’d been apart forever, the bags under his eyes- all thanks to you.

“finnick.” you breathe out, and he knows it’s not a question, more of a statement.

you don’t want him to remind you of everything just yet- for now, you’re just making sure he’s real, that you know it’s really him here and not one of the illusions that had been forced into your mind. he kisses the top of your head, he worries. he worries for your brain, for your body, your soul, your dignity. he worries what they’ve done to you- what he should’ve been sure to prevent. he worries himself sick, but his body does not shake and hurl as it wishes to- he holds himself up on one arm to admire you. he keeps composure for you, because in this moment you are whole, heart beating, brain functioning, and hands reaching out for him- and he will not take that for granted.

he kisses the back of each of your hands, your eyes are fluttering shut. he intoxicates you- inebriated on his love and warmth you pull yourself closer into his chest- only in your silence do you heal.

he hums with your bodies melted into one another- an almost ticklish vibration from his being to yours. “i love you.” a few of the many words he had to get out. i’m sorry i couldn’t save you sooner. the fact that i wasn’t there to save you in the first place eats away at me. i am lost without you. i need you. but nevertheless he sums it up with three words.

-

pls use my inbox i need reccs my brain is empty

BABYDOLL !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnicks a tease, so mean. but there's nothing more he wants to hear in his life than your gratifications.

contains; SMUT!! pure filth, fingering, p in v, lots of tension leading up, teasing, sub!reader, a few tears shed, pet names, lmk if i missed anything!

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you knew that look, it would never fail to take the breathe from your lungs.

the look that finnick gives you when you’re rambling on and on about your day and all he can look at is your plump lips, the bow that’s in your hair, the small silver pendant that lies facetiously above your chest- so provocative, so tantalizing.

you turn your focus back to sliding the last of the clean plates into their spots in the cabinet- yet you stay leaned into the counter, still speaking.

“just been awful cold out on the water, s’been bad out.”

finnicks shows this look once more as a warning, almost. his eyes are low, dark- if looks could kill you’d been dead a while ago- though you almost are now.

he looks at you like he wants to devour you, like all he needs to survive is to worship you. “so bad.” he voice is even- much unlike your heart that has seemed to stop beating.

“hm?” his double meanings causing you to feel lightheaded.

he gets up from his spot, caging you into the counter with his arms, looking down on you now. “the weather. what’s my baby thinking about?” he zeros his eyes in on yours.

“nothin’ fin.” he hasn’t even touched you and you’re acting dumb already, your cheeks are pink, knees weak.

he turns his head- his height still opposes yours in this position- something about it makes you ache inside. “don’t lie, i thought you were my good girl?”

by this point you know he doesn’t care for your answer, he just wants to see how long you can go pretending you’re not so desperately needing him inside of you- two can play that game.

“i am your good girl, finnick.” you say, looking up to him with big eyes.

he rolls his tounge over his lips, jaw slack as he huffs to himself , moving into those same plump lips he’s been looking at for the past hour.

his lips move against yours slowly until his tongue cards though your own lips and into your mouth. even in his own desperations he is not messy, or rough, but simply passionate.

he leaves a new trail of his lips down your neck, agonizingly slow. he knows each second of this matters to you, and somehow each time he makes it feel new all over again.

his hands run down your sides, stopping on the back of your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. he allows you to relish in this new position, you eye level with him. until again his hands find the backs of your thighs, carrying you into his room- laying your bottom down at the end of the bed.

his mouth finds your neck again, it’s hot, not rushed but needy. he wanted to ruin you, to watch you fall apart as his mouth got to work on you but when you whined out an oh-so pitiful, “i need you fin.” he knew what it was you wanted so badly.

but who is he to let you get what you want just like that? he needed some more convincing. “thought you were my good girl?” finnick tuts, he’s mean, he’s cruel.

“i am! i am!” you plead, he’s got you so worked up- rutting against him and he has your arms pinned down.

“act like it, babydoll.” and it takes all of your restraint to act like it, you take what he gives you when he feels like it.

only when his index finger hooks under the strap of your top do you get your own satisfaction, his hands run along your chest, kissing, sucking. until they find the waistband of your skirt, he studies your skirt- wonders if he should leave it on, tease you for it, but ultimately takes it off aswell.

never will he fail to be enamored with your body, he has to refrain from pulling his own face in between your legs.

your free hand reaches the collar of his loose shirt, his mouth is back in yours as he lets your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt before it’s completely undone, tossed elsewhere in the bedroom.

his hand kneads the fat of your hips, earning a soft noise of approval simply by his touch.

he never wants to hear anything else in his life, he thinks. finnick chases these sounds of pleasure from you, his fingers immediately finding your warmth, sinking his own two fingers into it.

you gasp, unprepared for such an intrusion- but he just couldn’t help himself.

his fingers continue working at a steady pace- until they curl, the world spins on its axis. “right there finnick!” your mouth is hanging open, and as much as he’d like to listen in to you whisper his name breathlessly- like a prayer- he can’t help but bring his pink lips to yours again.

you writhed in this pleasure, this satisfaction only he could bring you, he knew this, he loved this. until it all stopped, finnick withdrew his fingers, much to your dismay. he licks them clean.

you whimper, tears follow with the loss of friction and he can’t help but strain against his pants at the sight.

this beautiful woman below him? so desperate for his cock? it almost seems like it can’t be real.

“just be patient, angel.” he undoes his own pants, it doesn’t take long- even he can’t hide the fact of how badly he needs you.

you both are rid of every bit of clothing you’d once adorned, he nudges at your folds. “is this okay?” his eyes filled only with honesty, pure honesty.

“yes! please.”

finnick smiles, a smile short lived once he buries himself deep into you- his ears also pleasured as you cry out, clenching around him.

finnicks hand plays with the ends of your hair as he huffs out air. “gotta ease up baby, won’t last if your s’tight.” he purrs.

you nod, you can’t even speak and somehow that drives him more insane.

he rocks into you, leaving you fully before entering you without missing a beat. each thrust your back arches up more into him, chest more visible.

his fingers hyperfixtiate on your silver pendant, the pads of his hands caressing the heart locked as he stills inside of you.

“so pretty.”

“please.” you beg him, but he only moves his hands to your face, running his thumb over your lip, trying to etch your fucked-out features into the back of his mind.

you clench around him now, making him snap in and out of you faster. “this what you want? me to use you?” he cooes, words so sharp but the voice of an angel.

you’re close and you know he is too by the way his hips stutter each time he re-enters you.

vulgar words flow out of each of your mouths like a string as you both reach your high, your face hidden in his shoulder, his lips on your forehead.

-

i’ve never ever written smut before so lemme cook ill get better i promise, as always REQS OPEN USE EM!!!!

married fluffy life with finnick??

YES! i see all of your guys inbox and comments and i will very much write this to heal you from “knew the game and played it” very sorry about that! but i very much love this idea!!!

i have a honeymoon with finnick posted but i think genuine married life w him is different.

-

married life with finnick is going to be no short of a dream, this is after the games have been destroyed, you both live in a little house by the shore. and i say little house because he doesn’t care for the glitz and glamour like the victors village did.

all finnick needs is you, the ocean, and your kids.

dad!finnick i can see with little boys, probably aged five and two.

you’ll sit in the sun with your youngest, admiring finnick who’s trying to teach your oldest boy how to surf, desperately trying to pop his little body up on the surfboard.

but earlier in your marriage, when it’s just the two of you, it’s you he’s trying to teach how to surf.

“finnick, how am i supposed to stand up on a board when it’s wet and slippery?” you whine as he has you sat on the surfboard, walking you out through the still water to the waves.

he only laughs at you, “i’m sure thousands of people in panem have figured it out baby, you will too. just go on- i’ll tell you when to pop up.” he cheekily taps your ass with a wink, sending you off once you’ve reached the waves.

once you’ve finally- somewhat- rode the wave he meets you halfway in the water, his hair is wet when he meets you. finnick pulls you into his body, “good girl, i know you’ve got it!” he kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then moves to your lips- further pulling your body into his as the water around you crashes waves.

you taste the salt on his lips, the devotion in his kiss, he kisses away all your fear- and he blesses the gods that your fear now was only of falling into the water upside down- not of death, or violation.

i also think that yes, the nightmare would still plague you the coming yours after the games ended, he’d had his fair share that you wouldn’t hug him through, whisper sweet nothings in his ear until he fell asleep, you’d tell him his worth and that nothing he’d done would define him, he had no other choice and he was just a scared kid.

you’d wake up a handful of nights screaming, hiding your muffled cries into your pillow.

he’d stretch, snake his arms around you- holding your sweaty body still as sobs wreck your soul, and his.

each cry you let out pains him, “i know baby. i know, sweet girl.” his voice is comparatively deeper due to his short awakening.

-

master list

hi queen! I just watched saltburn and I was in love with how Venetia dressed in it I’m not sure if you watched it but there are some vids on tiktok about her so I was wondering if you could do a finnick odair x fem who dresses very similarly like very 2006 like she’s super girly but at the same time not like she has black smudged eyeliner isn’t the nicest person and she definitely humbled finnick when they first met

uhm yes I CAN!!! here it is!! I tried my hardest but my brain look is not working rn but I hope I did good for u babe MWAH and ty for requesting!!

BELIEVE ME NOW ?

pairing; mentor!finnick odair x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i was trying to protect you-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“believe me now?”

-

masterlist