ONE FOR THE ROAD !

ONE FOR THE ROAD !

pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader

summary; you’ve been finnicks since the moment you met, after your interviews you break- who can fix you better than him?

contains; ANGST/FLUFF, two idiots in love, typical thg themes- i’m sure by now you know what i mean ;(

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finnick watched you from behind the curtains of the stage, somewhere in a hallway with your face on the screen infront of you. watching you with your hand over your heart as you gushed about your faux-greatfulness to the capitol.

he watched your face drop as all of your kills were flashed onto the large screen, he watched the squint in your eyes, the way your brows furrowed, the way your jaw clenched. he pleaded now to you, through his mind- bury the hatchet sweet girl, don’t fall apart, you’ve made it this far.

his fingers were crossed his foot tapping anxiously until the milisecond your interview concluded.

your stylists crowded around the hallway, waiting to applaud you on how good you were- but finnick knew you better than anyone, he kept his distance.

your presence came with fury, tearing off your ridiculous headpiece- it falling to the ground in pieces with seconds. each step you took seemed to get angrier. your stylists behind you with a hand on their chest. something their dull minds couldn’t understand, how could she be so angry when it’s over with?

when you turned the corner and he saw you, when he saw the darkness in your eyes clouding your every move. desperate to be alone, to rot away- he twisted you around and into him.

you fought against him- struggling to release yourself from his hold. finnick only pulled you closer to him, with a tighter hold. “it’s okay, you’re okay.” he hushed into your ear, your arms softened. they found a home around his neck while your head hid away in his neck.

“no,” you only shook your head. how could he lie to you when you’re like this? “it’s not, it’s not fucking fair.”

he understand, if anyone- he understands. “i’m still me, you’re still you.” he said that and he wanted to believe it, wanted it to be true. thought maybe the cards would fall into the right lineup for him- to all be in his favor, but when had they ever been?

“no im not.” you didn’t believe him, and he couldn’t believe himself- maybe the two of you could build a city of lies in your heads.

you wanted to tell him what a monster you were, how awful you were-but he had to have already known .

he’d watched you be the most deceitful creature in the game, the most twisted, two fast creature. you’re sure he knew.

“yes you are princess, i know it’s bad but you’re safe, you’re with me.” finnicks voice always had this perfect serene pitch, even when you didn’t mean to- in a world of voices it would be the only thing you could focus on.

the tears cascaded down your face, black mascara indefinetly staining his white sweater.

he would never admit this out loud, it almost ate him up inside thinking it- and he would beat himself up for it for as long as he lived, but you were not the same- you never would be. but he could love you in any way you came.

you weren’t the same girl who would collect the seashells that reminded you of him and run up to his door with a basket full of them- you would never be the same girl who’s eyes would sparkle at the smallest conversation between you, him, and mags in her living room on a summer night. the same girl who’d laugh so hard that your stomach ached and you’d slap his shoulder.

you weren’t the same girl. and he knew that the moment your knife went for your allies neck, the way you screamed when the last cannon went off.

and you’d never say it, but you thought of him. every time someone would charge at you- desperate to hear the cannon. you thought about how all you needed to do was run home into his arm and scream at him for not letting you love him sooner.

and now, now he needed to think of you. think of your loving touch- your pure heart and the sound of your overjoyed laugh when he’d hug you too tight- or catch you off guard with a joke. he needed to think about brining all this anger- this hate, this disgust and guilt out of you- for he’d rather take it all on himself than watch it eat at you.

so he would hold you close when you woke up screaming, bathe you when your body was too tired to hold itself up, whisper sweetheart nothings into your ear as he cradles you back into a deep slumber.

-

a/n; very short, just wanted to get a lil angst out for u guys ;))

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PITY PARTY !

‟ and he loved her like he loved no one,

the way she’d laugh and hold a smoking gun. „

pairing;finnick x victor!f!reader

summary;finnick odair is a man of many fortunes, all he wish he didn’t posses- red, hot, and irate he lets it fool you.

contains; ANGST, self destructive-finnick&reader, insinuations of infidelity, acts of non-con, arguments, TW descriptive forced prostitution.

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it was your victory party, supposed to to be the happiest night since your games.

it was only the most stressful, the most draining. you hair was pulled up almost too tight you gained a headache, dress to tight you could suffocate. champagne flute after champagne flute, finnick had slid away from you- told you he’d be back nearly an hour ago.

you were struggling to stand, your arms were crossed over your indecent frame- chilly, without finnicks presence. without your finnick.

you went up to a familiar face, he was near your age- you think he’s friends with finnick? but how do you know what’s real in the capitol?

“have you seen where finnick went?” your head tilts to the side slightly, and by the way his breathy laugh reached your nostrils and the alcoholic scent burned your senses, you can tell he’s probably drunker than you.

the man has to steady himself from laughing so hard, you were almost concerned at his inebriated he was. “oh you sweet naive victor, he has quite the track record. where would a boy like yours possibly be at a party like this- i mean he’s not much of a boy after all he’s done.”

you’d zoned out halfway into his sentence, was finnick known for getting too tipsy? was there something you didn’t know? was the man you were speaking too so drunk he had lost his mind?

you began to slowly slip away from the man, slipping past people, looking for that soft, gentle, sweet face.

the air was getting too thick, your breath began to quicken, everything was moving in slow. your mind was begging for someone to find help for you, to find finnick.

you find your stylist, he was nice- you think. he’d done you a great fault with the comfortability of your get-up, but otherwise you’d trusted him.

“y/n!” he smiles, ecstatic to see you but a hint of concern in his features and he takes your glass of booze, placing it down on the table. his concern seemed too strong to be just for your alcohol consumption, like there was something else. something you didn’t know, or couldn’t know. “how are you?”

what the fuck?

“where’s finnick.” you’re feet hurt, your heads throbbing, your body is buzzing and you are so sick of not being apart of whatever’s going on.

now your stylist looks pitifully towards you, “oh honey, room five.”

your shoulders slump. was he okay? had he gotten a panick attack? you rush towards to intimate rooms, you weren’t sure if you could count to the number five right now but your mind assumed he’d be in the only closed room.

your worry is sickening, the chill in this mansion is sickening, the confusion of it all is purely- sickening. your hand twists the knob open, ready to see his tears in the dark- but you don’t see his eyes at all.

“yes! i love that finnick. i love you!” she’s under him, her skirt is pushed up- his eyes are screwed shut- his beautiful eyes are screwed shut.

who is this woman? her hair is curly, long, blonde, she seems tall but you can’t see much of her, she seems older. this seems wrong- almost. why is she saying she loves him? who is this woman, lying?

you don’t know how long it takes you to perceive it all, but she looks up and notices you- shrieking in exposé.

you just barely see his head shoot up, before you’ve closed the door. your back flies to the wall opposite of the door, you hear shuffling. you hear her asking him where he’s going.

you can’t breath.

it’s like you’ve taken a shot to the heart, and you’re bleeding out. your body can’t move, you want to run. you don’t want to know, you’re sure of it.

you’re not even sure you want to hear him speak, not for a long time. not until your world stops spinning.

you’ve just started to move, you’ve just started to escape. when the door flies open, your name is being called- no shouted.

but finnicks legs move faster than yours, longer, with flat shoes and hefty strides he’s grabbed your wrist in seconds and he’s spinning you around to face him.

you want to scream, no more, please. but your words are stolen from you, his face looks like he’s just walked in on the same thing you did.

he looks like he wants to speak, to say something. he looks into the corner of the hallway, at the light fixtures, the cameras, and the words are lost on his tongue.

it has felt like ever since finnick had won his games, there was a part of his soul you would never understand, and you thought that you would- and if you told him this, he would probably tell you it’s too early for you to know just yet.

his eyes fall back onto yours, and his eyes are frantic- switching back and forth between each eye. again, you’re missing something, there’s something you’re not picking up, and as much as you want to scream and run away from him- to cry- you stay.

“what the fuck is happening.” you’re trying to sober-up now, your hand finds your hair. and you’re taking steps away from him, your eyes are wide.

he hasn’t moved a muscle, finnick thinks the odds have never been worse for him. does he break you or does he seal your fate with a scarlet letter?

“what the fuck is happening!” you repeat, turning around to face him now, he looks back to the camera, and back to you. and you aren’t in the right state for this. “finnick!” you place your hands on either side of his face, you’re trying to tiptoe around this.

he takes an inhale, trying to find solace in your sweet smell- but all that fills his senses is the alcohol hot and heavy on your tongue. “your drunk, y/n.”

your hands fall from his face, this is cruel, the present is too cruel. and at that moment he’s chosen your fate, you break.

a cry leaves your mouth, your hand going over it, shaking. he feels sick now, his pupils are blown and he’s shaking, he swears his own heart has stopped.

you’re sobbing, and it’s because of him. finnick odair was a selfish monster. finnick odair was a liar, a tyrant. but he was your boy, the same man who spun you around when you wore long skirts just to hear the giggle leave your lips. the same man who didn’t sleep for days when you were reaped- moreso until you came out of that arena. the same man who gave everything he had just so you’d gain sponsors.

and you thought you could be that same girl for him, the same girl who held him when he cried the night before you left for the arena, unable to hold his composure for you any longer.

and now, you’re tears couldn’t stop, and his couldn’t either. you were too stunned to move, and he couldn’t stop muttering words that made no sense.

“lets just go home, please.” he pleads, he would get on his hands and knees. he’d die for you to stop feeling like this, he’d soak it all up just so you would stop.

“how many women?” you remember his own friends words, he has quite the track record- not much of a boy after all he’s done.

and his eyes screw shut once more, a look he often wears when he wants something to be over with, and quick. and you can recognize that from the scene that will forever be etched into your mind.

and he sees you, piece it together in your mind- he sees it all line up for you. he sees the red hot fury behind your lashes, he then sees it turn into an unwary look.

“who’s making you do this?”

he shakes his head, his hand running over his wet face. “stop, now.” there are ears everywhere, even when you’re the loneliest in panem, you are never the only person there.

and his heart races at the thought of how your concern for the good in him will push to your demise, how if you say the words you were never supposed to know, he may never see you again.

and when you go to speak, he slaps a hand over your mouth, he’s rough, he’s not himself. he turns you around- pushing you away from him as he rushes out the emergency exit.

you chase after him, and somehow he’s still faster than you. there’s fresh tears in his cheeks it the cold air, he thinks they’ll freeze. you’re screaming after him, he thinks it’s nothing more than a bad dream.

he wished he wasn’t there, like he was in the backseat as his body moved farther and farther away from you. a second hand perspective on himself and he didn’t know who he was.

and once more, finnick odair was a plague. a wrath awakening in every bridge he burned.

-

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FEMALE ROBBERY !

pairing; finnick odair x dist4!victor!f!reader

summary; meeting finnick at your capitol victor party, he is nothing short of entranced.

contains; fluff! just pure fluff, innocent- sweet, comforting, brief mentions of forced prostitution but no detail.

a/n; i was lowkey turning into anakin skywalker when i started writing about how much reader hates sand but it adds personality ok…

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you were shivering, teeth practically chattering. the wide doors that led to the back of the luxurious party-mansion were wide open. your dress offered little warmth and neither did the people around you- their arrogance and bright colors offered no heat, no coziness, no reminders of home.

your wearing a corset dress- low cut, your chest on great display, you feel like the short hemmed bottomed makes you out to flash everyone at this party.

your hair has braids scattered about- your original hair texture is long gone with the amount of heat styling they’ve done on it throughout your victory tour and interviews. bows adorn the ends of each small braid that lays on your now, flat- straight hair.

the meaningless conversation, and congratulations throughout this party is enough to drive you mad. you need air- oh-so cold but nonetheless you needed more air. you’re feet are moving past people- people who grab at you, yelling praises, trying to get a passing word with you.

but you’re mind is racing, you need to sit in silence and breath.

you find a garden- you don’t have enough greenery back in your district, more ocean, too much sand, too much heat.

the sand got everywhere. you couldn’t complain about the ocean- oh, how you loved the water. but once the sand got in your hair, your shoes, your towel, your clothes- it couldn’t get out. it seemed sand would never leave you alone- president snow reminded you all too much of sand.

it felt like an infirmary sentencing, a life estimation. once the words ‘capitols doll’ left his mouth, ‘desirable’, ‘young, sweet, and pretty’ you felt sick- you’d live your life in misery until another innocent tribute would come along and take all of the heat. but you’d always be in a hotel room, in the capitol, entertaining the people like a puppet on a string.

you don’t think you’ve been warm since you heard those words, you don’t think there’s been enough air- but now, in this garden, everything seems okay.

you sit on a bench, rose bushes surrounding you, a few flowers you can name but never seen- only in books.

your hands are in your lap now, fingers playing with one another- your deep breathes began to lower your blood pressure.

until you hear footsteps nearing on the cold- crunchy grass that’s been frozen over from the weather.

he’s tall- shirtless. what stylist would do that to someone in this nippy weather? but you think your stylist would send you off to these parties naked if he had no decency, too.

he’s finnick odair. even the wind flirting your eyes can recognize that. how couldnt you? the poster boy of your district, sex symbol of panem, but you don’t comprehend any of it.

“you’ve found my spot.” he’s smirking, you can understand why people in the capitol swoon over him- not even six seconds and your body rushes with warm blood.

then you process his words, slowly scrambling to grab your clutch and rising to your feet. he puts his hand up, signaling for you to halt your movements.

“it’s nice to have company.” and so you move your bag over , allowing him more room to sit on the bench.

you don’t speak, atleast you don’t know what to say- you don’t ask questions or say something stupid. finnicks voice breaks the thick barrier of silence; “nice party they gave you.”

he’s joking, and his slight laugh makes you laugh. you’d won nearly a month ago- many sleepless nights covered with makeup and fake eyelashes. “yeah, i’m so grateful for them all.” you breathily laugh off.

the playfulness of this all is refreshing. it almost makes you long forget about your grim past and even darker impending doom.

he turns his head towards you, scanning your face- then to the rose bushes surrounding the both of you- then back to your face. “too many roses every where, i’m starting to hate the smell of them.”

you pick up on his small talk, and you almost laugh a little- he’s acting like a grade-school boy. “i’m beginning to think it possibly the ugliest thing natures created now.”

“mags told me about how mentoring you went, we were all relieved when you won.” you wince when you think about that, he knows that better then anyone here. the heart sinking feeling when your brain slips up for a second- that you don’t let yourself think to hard about, nor too long.

“thanks.” he doesn’t even know you yet, but he know that even if you don’t speak too much the ones you do vocalize have meaning, no vacancy in them. “are you cold?” you can’t help but voice your curiosity.

he looks down on himself, almost as though his body brings him guilt in a way. like he’s ashamed to own it, you’re sure you’ll understand soon.

but within seconds his guard is back up, back to the capitol darling. he simply places your hand on his shoulder, he’s forcing your body to move but in the most genuine way anyone has ever done so.

you feel your cold finger tips merge with his radiant shoulder, like a hypothermic to a heater.

finnicks aura is simply heat, not a touch of coldness. you wonder if it’s his insides pouring into his physical being. does he not have any cold feelings in his heart? is he genuine? “how are you warm right now?”

he only laughs as you try to remove your hand from him in the least awkward way you can, placing your hands back into your lap. there’s so many things you want to ask him, tell him. his soul is like a confession booth, that you’ve heard before. all the secrets he knows, all of the words only he’s been told.

“does it get better? even if you’ve been told something that doesn’t make you think it will?” he can only imagine what your last words mean, and now his heart drops. no- not someone like you? so young so unsuspecting, but weren’t they all?

“if you have someone to lean on, you’ll be okay.”

you frown at this, despite your fear of making yourself seem like a complete and utter loser to the golden boy of panem- you say; “and if i don’t?” you can’t help but think about your overworked tired parents, never home, never cared too much. your friends who you don’t see all too much.

“if you don’t,” he looks up from his lap now, eyes locked onto yours, only your eyes ever- not your exposed chest or the dress that rides up your thighs. “you have me if you’re willing, i think we’ve gotten on well.”

this makes you smile to yourself, you can’t look into his eyes any longer you think you’ll get lost. you feel like a school girl, unable to breathe around the presence of your crush. “i don’t know you all that well, finnick odair.”

he shakes his head, “haven’t you read the news, y/n l/n?” he’s mimicking your words, almost in a sing-song way.

“i don’t tend to make premeditated decisions on who someone is based on what the capitol news says. i prefer to get to know them instead.”

“well, let’s get to know eachother then.” his body turns toward you. flattening his hands onto his lap. “favorite color?”

you look at the grass before you, the stems of the flowers around you, the feeble, poor excuses of barely full bushes that line the sand before the water in district four. “green, not a dark green. something in the middle.” your eyes flick back to his, almost the perfect green you were talking about. “and you?”

“blue.” his two fingers pick up the bows at the end of your hair, you almost roll your eyes at this. too charming you could laugh.

“what are you scared of?”

he thinks about this one, taking a moment to relay his thoughts. it wasn’t death, no. he wouldn’t be scared when his time came, he would just hope the people he loves would be okay, that they’d get through it without him.

“becoming one of them.” he nods his head back to the people scuffling about in frilly dresses and skirts around the main party center. “so moral-less, so demanding. so many things i don’t want to be.”

you shake your head now, “i don’t think you could ever be one of them.” to anyone else this would be an insult, being apart of the capitol was little girls and boys dreams. to live so lavishly and carefree. but once you’ve seen it all, you just want to be by the ocean- at peace, unbothered with those who meant the most to you. “you’re much too good for that.”

finnick believes you, it’s like all he’s needed his whole life was your words that had no hint of second meaning. only pure, true, clean. “if it means anything, i know you couldn’t be anyways. no matter how many bows they put in your hair.” he laughs again, that charming chuckle that sends a butterfly to your stomach. “you have a good heart, i hope that it stays that way.”

it’s all so honest , the whole interaction. but you’ve been away from your own party far too long and you’re almost scared to upset people. “i have to go. i’ll see you around, finnick.” his name is foreign to your tongue almost, but its welcome.

finnick then stands quickly, “when will i see you again?” he almost looks worried.

“soon. we live in the same village after all.”

-

inspired by my favorite, @mrsnancywheeler ‘s fic

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girl where is ur pfp from 😭 i love it

hi baby!! i just changed mine but when u had asked this, it’s a pic from a grimes music video for player of games, xx :)

FEVERS !

finnick x reader series

pre seventieth-hunger games

contains; angst, heartbreak, second perspective, little to no use of ‘y/n’.

the water is anything but a mirror of your stagnant body, the waves are fighting the shore- crashing angrily as if to make a point of the fury climbing through your body.

you’re still, despite the slight water droplets tickling your bare legs. another year, another reaping, a handful of deaths. and with reapings in district four, came finnick, finally returning from the capitol.

it wasn’t hard to go on with your life without him, the most difficult of times being when you’d wake up with things to tell him, not knowing what was going on in his life. remembering how he looked down on you, how he laughed pointedly in your face before treating you like one of his fangirls- pretentiously slamming the door in your face.

but you were fine on your own now, over four long years had passed by in a flash and you’d left him alone- though he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

you didn’t see him at the lighthouse near the pier, you didn’t hear him lauging when you’d walk to school together, you didn’t smell the sea salt whenever he’d walk into any room, didn’t feel the water spraying over you shivering body when he’d shake his wet hair out of the beach.

none of it mattered, your best friend was gone. you’d unfailingly remember the day finnick had been reaped, he wasn’t too sterling on putting on a mask back then. his eyes blown, his hesitance to step up to that stage. his eyes would’ve found yours in any crowd then. you thought you’d gone through the worst of it all losing him- oh, how you thought it was all over.

it was a dark morning in district four, you were simply just impending your attendance at the reaping to conclude, then return back to your bed, easier said than done.

your body distastefully pulled itself from the sand as the sun creeped up on the shoreline, signaling the end of your escape.

your mind was elsewhere- zoning out into your own world of issues until that familiar hue of lilacs from the hydrangea bush near your home caught your eye.

the trek from the beach was short, and your home was small. despite the fact that district four was amongst the wealthiest districts, the balance came in practical ways; enough food to go round, electricity and power for each family, but still treacherous working conditions.

finnick is standing behind the placemats of where the tributes will stand minutes from now, he can spot you in any crowd- but it scares him in a way. why can he only see you? despite the sea of girls your age surrounding you he can only see you.

the video plays, the same video that plays every year before finnick gets to get a good look at his tributes. it’s snow, he talks of war, of despair- as if the districts are a stranger to it.

usually he zones out, usually he doesn’t mind the names called. but something feels wrong about this day in particular. something that makes him easily strartled, like he should run.

you keep your eyes to your shoes, to the sand that covers the tips of them- but you can still feel his eyes, they’re burning you. not quite like the sun that scorches your eyes, but a burn you couldn’t hide from.

“ladies first!” your escorts voice is too peppy, it scratches your ears wrong. you just want to go home, more than usual. you want to close in on yourself.

the crinkling of the unfolding paper echoes through the microphone, a smile on the escorts painted lips, you almost feel like your dreaming.

you and finnicks minds are brought back to reality when your name is called. finnicks mind must have made it up, maybe hes been plagued with sun poisoning. his excuse is cut short as the girls around you form a gaping path from you to the stage, he knows you want to disappear, a part of him does too. your mother lets out a wail, but you can’t look at her- only as the peace keepers who lead you with hands on your back your back to the stage.

finnicks guilt consumes him wholly, it was surely his fault. something he did, something he said- he got your name into that bowl far too many times then it needed to be. he sees your face, he sees your tense shoulders as you walk your way up the stairs, onto the placemat on the stage. he knows you feel closed in at the stares, at the eyes of everyone- the cameras.

this is sickening, how well he can read you after all these years. how he has instantly promised to any god that was listening that he would not sleep until you made it out, that he would not quit the pleasure and charms of the capitolites until they gave you all of the materials you needed.

sickening, how your hair had waves it in- and he instantly knew it was from you taking your hair out of braids after they’d gotten wet from the saltwater. how you were slowly blinking- your dead give away at calming yourself down.

he cursed the crowd, he cursed snow, he cursed himself. how has nobody volunteered? how could snow try and hurt you after he’s spent so long shielding you from this exact moment? how could he let himself sit here and do nothing?

“and now, the boys!” the escorts voice makes finnick sick now, he swears he can feel blood dripping down his ears. the same voice that called out yours- that tried to take you to your death. “lux dagon!”

you’ve heard of him before, he’s a year older than you. he’s said to be charming, smart, likeable. all of your premonitions are proven to be true when he squares his shoulders off, a captivating smile flooding his mouth. unlike you, he doesn’t hesitate to stride up to the stage- he was a career child.

he’d waited his whole life for this moment, he was smarter, stronger, taller, and faster than you. his eyebrows were thick and dark, just like his round eyes. olive skin, and dark hair that fringed down to his forehead.

you were sure you were dead this moment, you were dead and you couldn’t even put up a fight. it was slightly enthralling, how your last bit of hope for survival was crushed at one mere name.

luxs smile reappears when he turns to you, the color was drained for your face- mouth slightly agape. he winks incredulously as he sticks his hand out to shake yours. you take it, well aware of the fact that your hand is very-likely soaked in sweat.

you can’t keep eye contact with him, all you can see is your mother being held back by peacekeepers- her face would be etched into your mind for some time. her only child, only family- you felt saddest for her most of all. because you knew this would be the last she saw of you before you’d be killed on television- you didn’t want to think about how helpless she’d feel, how she’d never quite be the same.

you try not to pay any mind to finnick as you make your way to the train car. infact, you don’t pay mind to anyone.

but nevertheless, finnick is hot on your tail- leaving no room for personal space. you’re sure it will be a long train ride, silent on your part.

the walls are dark grey, lined with gold. light fixtures decorate every surface. a plethora of food and drinks await you, none of it is fish nor vegetables. you don’t know what it is, but your stomach can’t handle the sight of it.

you sit on a red couch, gold hugs the ends of the seat. lux joins, taking the spot next to you. you don’t cause a stir when finnick sits in front of you, and certainly not when mags sits diagonal.

it almost feels like a sick joke to finnick, the idea that you’re infront of him after all these years, and not saying a word. you’re alive but you’re about to face issues larger than you’re ready for. it feels like he might never escape, like he may never rid himself of being tormented.

a voice tears him from his thoughts, “so, what can i do to win?” lux asks eagerly, his hands are clasped and his elbows are on his knees- eyeing finnick and mags.

finnick is solely not in a fit state to humor his excitement. looking to his lap with a sigh then pinching the bridge of his nose. “that’s a broad question.”

lux can’t sense the bitterness in his words, it almost seemed unprofessional of finnick. your district-mate mutters soemthing about how he’s already well equipped to kill, “water? what if it’s dry land?”

mags gets up from her seat, coughing- off to the bathroom. lux then splays his hands on his jean clad knees, and pushes himself up, irritated at the lack of response.

you can’t help but agree, if you’d really cared that much- if you were truly that desperate to win, and had been asking for advice to no avail, you’d be indignant as well.

one out of sight, finnick looks straight at you. your back is leaning into the cushion of the couch, hands fiddling. he wants to know where you are right now- that sinking dazed look is in your eyes, all he wants is to throw the rope and get you out of your head. “they love him already.”

you snap your head at his words, he doesn’t say your name- but it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice speak to yours in years. his words are covering the sweetness in his voice. you take this chance to study his face, a lot has changed- you just wished it wasn’t in these circumstances that you’d see your best friend again.

he sighs, “y/n.” finnicks eyes are pleading with yours now, “focus, if you can’t beat him, join him. we can’t have him being district fours favorite.”

your eyebrows furrow, you want to scream at him, it doesn’t feel right simply speaking to him- it felt too soon, but so long. “i’m sorry.” you let out a sigh, “can you speak in simpler terms, the poverty back home has given me brain rot- mr odair.” the ridicule in your tone has him seething, knuckles white as he grips the chair.

you’d never been one to simply forgive, you always held grudges, but never with him- it never should’ve been that way. finnick didn’t know what he expected when he thought he could simply prance into your life once more and beg for you to do as he says. he should’ve known you’d come up with a million reasons as to why he thinks he’s better than you, he knew you’d tricked yourself into thinking that he was on some sort of capitol high horse after winning.

but it’s what you’d do, what you’d always done. as if you were in a constant state of survival- this only scared him. finnick knew he’d make you a winner, no matter what it would take. he had nothing left to give to the capitol, his dignity, his body, his mind, but he swore he’d get you out of this- though he also knew the victors life would tear you to shreds.

you didn’t want to treat him this way, it was only the way he looked at you like he was high and mighty. so egotistical, nothing like the boy you once knew. as if his mind was superior to yours, like he was too snotty to be in your presence.

he sits up in his chair, running a hand through his hair before leaning close to you. “i’m just trying to help you.”

you knew this, yet you couldn’t take it. his advice burned your ears, it made you feel small. to have him try to teach you, after all that’s happened.

after a few beats of your eyes latching onto the ground- neglecting eye contact as he desperately tried to gauge your interest, he stood up, almost disappointedly. you supposed this was him turning in for the night.

the sceneries whizzed past you in the window, greens and brows in a haze. you just wanted to be back home, on the beach- far far away from the capitol. though like many things, it seemed too good to be true.

you couldn’t help but think about finnick, how all you needed was him right now- his laugh, the way he’d always know what to say. but you didn’t recognize him, the times you’d forget you weren’t friends, or even civil haunted you.

how did either of you forgive yourselves for letting things become this way, to have gone from a connection you were born to have built, to being unable to speak.

your mind blames him, blamed the fact that he’d changed and forgot to tell you, the fact that he’d slammed the door in your face. but your conscious thoughts blamed yourself, for not understanding what he’d gone through, for not being more patient.

and so you’d close your eyes, thinking of the times finnick had helped your mom cook fish- insisting to her that it’s impossible to burn fish. he wore a sweet smile then, his hair was shorter- he looked more comfortable in his own skin. you wondered when that had all changed, when things had been turned this way.

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a/n: this was just a preface! not an actual chapter. i actually hate this with my whole heart but i needed to get this out of the way so the story would make sense. trust they’ll work it out !!

masterlist

OMG what about a part 2 to “KNEW THE GAME & PLAYED IT ?” , where they’re now in district 13 and can actually be together but now she hates him and they have to work through it, like maybe him having to explain, etc.? 🥰

part two!

yalls idea are giving me a run for my money i swear. i wrote it a BIT differently but none the less- thank u for this and i hope u like it! kiss kiss.